Chapter 4
An hour later and with Em fully up to speed on the love child goss, she appears at my door, resplendent in a metallic silver dress and platform heels.
‘Holy smokes!’ I say, immediately regretting my choice of jeans and a plain white tee.
‘Wear the dress is my new philosophy,’ Em’s saying. ‘Like, there’s no point keeping your favourite clothes “for best”, right? What even is best? If you love it, you should wear it.’
I listen carefully and reach for some massive earrings to pep up my outfit.
‘You’re so wise.’
‘Yes, I am.’ She grins. ‘Love those. Ready?’
Fresh from her power nap, Stella has changed into another killer outfit and is also raring to go, but as I grab a key card my phone starts ringing.
This is awful timing, I think, seeing that it’s my editor Bryan from the Carpston Courier . I immediately press ignore. Not today, Satan! But eagle-eyed Stella notices.
‘Work call on a Friday night?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, I’ll, erm, call him back on Monday.’
Stella and Em exchange a look.
‘It’s not like you to ignore work calls, Jessie,’ Em points out.
She’s not wrong.
‘Well, it’s the first night of our holiday and frankly, I refuse to be interrupted,’ I hedge.
‘Ooh, peppy!’ Em beams. ‘I like this attitude, Jessie! It’s new for you.’
I bury my phone in my giant clutch bag and hustle everyone out the door.
It’s just a short walk back to the main hotel, where the restaurant is, but it takes us an age because the sun is setting and Em’s decided that the lighting is perfect for a photoshoot. Allegedly, our skin looks amazing. By the time we arrive, my stomach is rumbling loudly.
Stella goes to find the toilets while Em and I are shown to our seats in the grand restaurant. It’s so plush. There’s a huge, circular bar as you enter with a massive selection of drinks in a central column, bar staff buzzing around it shaking cocktails. Beyond that, we clack along the tiled floor past elegantly laid tables with white tablecloths, sparkling cutlery and a little velvet lamp on each table, emitting a warm glow. They’ve really leaned into the history of the original building in here with the décor, which screams old money.
‘Shall we just get champagne?’ Em suggests.
‘I mean, it’s all included so it would be rude not to,’ I say and Em nods enthusiastically. A waiter brings a bottle over and is pouring us three flutes when Stella bursts into the restaurant.
‘I HAVE WALKED THROUGH THE OPEN DOOR,’ she shouts, striding past the bar and over to our table, ignoring the fact that the entire restaurant is now staring at her. Our waiter, hypnotised by this beautiful and extremely noisy woman walking towards him, keeps pouring. Champagne flows over the glass and onto his feet. He mutters apologies and, after one final longing look at Stella, scuttles off to deal with the spillage.
‘Have you also lost your mind?’ I ask as she sits down, triumphantly.
Stella shakes her head. ‘No, Jessie, I have walked through the open door.’
I shoot Em a look, who shrugs at me.
‘Emerald!’ says Stella. ‘You should very be pleased with me. I’ve just achieved exactly what Zodiac Divvie told me to do today.’
‘Zodiac Girlie ,’ corrects Em, cocking her head to one side. ‘And, let me get this straight, are you taking today’s astrological advice from the app literally?’
Stella pulls up her phone and shows us the notification.
‘Look. “Walk through an open door,” it says. Mission accomplished.’
‘Oh yeah, me too!’ I chime in. ‘Mine said something very similar, actually. About climbing through windows? I stuck my head right out of the car on the way here and I must say I really did appreciate the fresh air.’
Stella high-fives me.
Em sighs. ‘Obviously both of your astrological guides for the day are actually suggesting that you should take advantage of opportunities. They mean you should be alert to chances and openings. You know it’s not literal, right? Literally walking through a door and then shouting about it is not going to connect you to the cosmos, Stella.’
Stella and I share a look.
‘Obviously!’ Stella grins.
‘You’re teasing me.’ Em scowls.
‘Only just the tiniest bit,’ I say.
‘I thought you’d be pleased that I’ve at least downloaded the app,’ Stella adds.
‘And I am,’ says Em. ‘It’s a great start even though clearly there is work to be done. But do you know what? Our Saturn Return is happening! Let’s cheers to that.’
She holds up her glass and we clink them together.
‘Guess what I brought,’ I say, picking up my oversized clutch.
‘Ooh, I love this game. Is it a spare tampon for one of us, even though you’re not on your period?’ asks Em.
‘No wait, a packet of tissues “just in case”.’ Stella grins.
I pretend to huff. ‘Both of those things are in here, obviously, that just makes good sense. But no.’
‘Is it drugs?’ muses Emerald, eyes wide. ‘Because that is very off brand for you.’
‘Why does everyone think I’m on drugs today?’ I squeak, askance, before pulling out our university yearbook.
‘I’m dead,’ Stella announces, her page of the yearbook open in front of her as she snorts with laughter into her glass of wine. ‘Most likely to make Forbes 30 under 30? Who wrote that?’
‘We were all thinking it, Stell,’ I say as our main courses arrive. ‘Even back then you were so driven and determined. And just look how successful you’ve become.’
I’m not too hot on job titles for any industry that doesn’t immediately make perfect sense to me, but Stella’s basically Head of Everything at the charity she set up that looks out for single mothers from low-income backgrounds. She makes a ton of money by raising the charity’s profile, fundraising, hosting events. You name it, Stella seems to do it. It makes perfect sense for her to be in this job because of Stella’s own upbringing, I think, my thoughts immediately going to her mum.
‘Stell, how’s Jacqui?’
‘Ah, Jacqui. She’s actually all right at the moment,’ Stella says, but there’s a new tension in her voice. ‘She’s been sober for about a year now. Luke and I are so used to her falling off the wagon that I almost can’t feel upbeat about that, but, you know, I will because I know that every day she doesn’t drink is a massive achievement for her and another step forward.’
I’m so relieved to hear that Jacqui is in a good place but I also feel on edge, and it’s not just because Stella doesn’t sound upbeat. Stell had the hardest time growing up trying to be a mother to her own mum, and to her little brother, while Jacqui would be away drinking for days at a time. They have a difficult relationship to this day, and Stella feels a lot of anger towards her mum for not being present.
When we met at uni, Stella told some of us about her mum’s past struggles with alcohol but in our first year, she’d got herself clean. And I suppose that I thought that was going to be it. I was so naive, but I hadn’t known anyone struggling with alcoholism before that. Then in our second year, Jacqui fell off the wagon so badly that she ended up in rehab.
I blame myself for that.
Jacqui had come round to our flat when Stella was out and she’d asked me for money, and I didn’t stop to think. What an idiot! I just handed over the ￡10 note I had in my wallet and I actually thought I was being really mature, lending money to my friend’s mum. I have replayed that moment so many times since, so angry with my past self for being so foolish. I should have been suspicious. Why had she popped round asking for money? Why did I hand over a tenner to a woman I knew had issues with alcohol in the past, without at least asking questions first?
But the fact is, I didn’t think. Three days later, Stella told me her mum had relapsed. She’d been off grid for three days straight until Stella found Jacqui unconscious at home in a pool of her own vomit. The look on Stella’s face when she broke the news to us. Harrowing. Like all her hope had been crushed. I’ve gone to tell her about it so many times but Stella never wants to dwell on her mum, so I’ve never been able to admit what happened. I still feel like I need to do it. I need to apologise to my best friend.
‘Son of Hades.’ Emerald interrupts my thoughts with a dramatic whisper. ‘Is that Dita Ortiz?’
Stella and I follow her gaze to a woman being escorted into the dining room.
‘Oh my god, yes!’ I hiss back. ‘She looks even more incredible in real life.’
Dita Ortiz may well be one of the biggest stars on the planet.
‘Have you seen her latest film? She spends the entire time with her hands all over Paul Mescal. I’m literally so jealous.’
‘No! Is it worth a watch?’
‘Mescal gets naked and there’s nothing meh-scal about that.’ Emerald grins.
I laugh. ‘I can’t believe she’s here.’
‘And looking so beautiful. If I look that good when I’m approaching fifty then I can die happy,’ Stella says.
Stella’s not wrong. As Dita walks slowly through the restaurant, she gives off this glow. Her skin shines. Her hair is pulled up in a sexy chignon. Her lips are burgundy red to match the red velvet suit she’s wearing with nothing underneath – well, that’s what it seems – what a look!
‘She’s got the sexiest accent too,’ adds Stella.
‘Isn’t she half German, half Spanish?’ I ask.
‘Yup.’ Em nods.
‘She’s been in so many amazing films.’
‘Nothing more amazing than her own private life,’ Em says admiringly. ‘She’s my inspiration. She’s dated literally everybody!’
‘I definitely would,’ Stella purrs.
‘Do you think she’s staying here?’
‘Well, Luke did mention the hotel’s soft launch,’ Stella reminds me. ‘It’s all celebrities and influencers here this week. And us!’
Oh yes, Croissants .
‘Shall we see what the yearbook had to say about me?’ Em asks, flicking through to her page and then starting to laugh. ‘Omg, most likely to get a criminal record? I’d forgotten that, how rude!’
‘You did take the wheels off your course tutor’s car because he gave you a low grade in first year,’ Stella reminds us as I chortle.
Em cracks up at the memory. ‘And then he pulled all the boys on my course into his office to try and figure out who’d done it, because the idea that it might have been a woman didn’t cross his tiny misogynistic mind, remember?’
‘You had tyres in your room in halls for weeks.’ I laugh.
Em’s dad is a Formula One enthusiast and the family had spent a season on tour with McLaren. Naturally Em didn’t just sit on the sidelines being all glam, she actually became quite the car mechanic as a result. It’s one of the many reasons why I love her.
‘Your turn, Jessie.’ Em hands me the book, and I feel my stomach flip. It’s been ages since we looked through this old thing. As I flick through the pages I am amazed again at how the photographs we chose are so hilarious, the hairstyles and outfits looking like a style moodboard from ten years ago. So much shiny lipgloss! I find my page and a much younger me stares back, a happy smile on my face. The page is graffitied in large, looping handwriting by Stella and Em, allowing not much space for our wider group of uni friends.
I scan to the bottom of the page.
‘Most likely to … own a bookshop,’ I read aloud. I didn’t really have to read the yearbook to know it. After years slogging away in the Courier newsroom, I haven’t forgotten my teenage dream. I’ve always imagined running my own bookstore with a café serving good coffee (essential), little reading nooks (welcoming), and the whole place would smell like well-thumbed books (like a home from home). Bliss.
‘Yes! You wanted somewhere people could go to let their imaginations run wild, right? You were always jotting down some story or other of your own, too,’ says Stella. ‘Living in a dream world where everyone had secret, thrilling alter-egos. What happened to the bookshop, Jess?’
‘Yeah, and how’s work, babes? You’ve not mentioned it yet …’
Eek. My stomach lurches at the thought of work. We’re only on day one of our holiday and there’s plenty of time to talk about it all with the girls. Right now, I just want a blissful night of not thinking about the Carpston Courier .
‘Oh fine,’ I say breezily. ‘You’re always teasing me about telling the same stories over and over again anyway and there are way more important things to catch up on tonight …’
Em looks thoughtful. ‘I do love the one about the giant marrow at the town fete, though. We’re not really teasing, Jessie.’
‘Nah, it’s cool. Reporting for a small-town newspaper isn’t nearly as thrilling as what you guys do,’ I say with a shrug. ‘And you’re right, the bookshop dream still looms large. I did actually ask Bryan if I could become books editor for the Courier a while back. Built a whole page for the website to show him what it would look like and everything.’
‘Omg yes, I can see you writing book reviews.’ Em beams.
‘Me too! But he didn’t go for it so …’
‘Why’s Bryan always cock-blocking your great ideas?’ Stella asks, brows furrowed.
‘Anyway,’ I rally, sliding the yearbook back into my bag. ‘Work can wait. How’s Fran, Stell?’
Stella lets out a low, slow sigh and tiny alarm bells ring in my mind.
‘Okay,’ she replies, which is the most tepid thing I’ve ever heard Stella say. I reach across the table and grab her hand, concerned. ‘A bit mad at me right now.’
‘Why?’ Em reaches over and grabs Stella’s other hand.
‘Work’s been so manic recently and I’ve been getting a lot of flack from Fran about the long hours, but I think it’s about more than just me working late. We’re at a bit of a crossroads.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Basically Fran wants to be a mum, and she thinks we should start considering our options right now. And I’m undecided.’
‘Oh Stell, that’s a tough one,’ I say.
‘Do you mean undecided about kids, or undecided about Fran?’ Em asks.
‘Oh kids, for sure. Fran is definitely my person.’
‘Phew,’ I whistle. Stella and Fran have the dream relationship as far as I can see. So together but also not in each other’s pockets. A joy to be around. ‘You guys are adorable.’
‘I suppose we are quite cute.’ Stella grins. ‘And I’ve never met a woman who wears jeans and a tank top so bloody well.’
‘I totally agree,’ Em says. ‘On the jeans and tank thing, but also on the fact that you guys seem to have a great relationship. I’ve been thinking about relationships a lot recently and I think what works for you two is that you’re actually not two peas in a pod. You’ve both got your own stuff going on, your own likes and dislikes.’
‘Yes!’ I chip in. ‘Exactly that.’
‘She definitely puts up with my crap. Like when I missed our three-year anniversary because of work.’ Stella winces. ‘Oh, and by the way, thank you for texting Fran that night, Jess. She really appreciated it.’
‘Oh, no prob. So does this mean you two are arguing a lot?’ I ask, worried.
‘We’re not arguing, but we are definitely in a constant state of disagreement. She’d have a baby yesterday if she could. It started last Christmas, when Fran became an auntie, and suddenly cradling this baby in her arms changed her entire outlook. I mean, I’ve always known that she wanted kids but since then there’s been this urgency to it. She keeps sending me links to sperm donor clinics.’
‘Fran’s the same age as us, right?’ says Em. ‘Classic Saturn Return behaviour!’
Stella looks a bit exasperated by this so I step in. ‘And you’re not sure if motherhood is for you?’
I watch my best friend exhale, clearly in turmoil about it. ‘How are you meant to know? When is the right time? It’s a lot.’
‘It is a lot.’
‘And I think my own upbringing hasn’t helped. If I’m going to try and be a mum one day then I’m going to want to absolutely ace it.’
‘Of course you are.’ I smile fondly.
‘I can’t be doing a shit job like Jacqui. I’d want to give it my all and at the moment, I give my all to work. How do you find a balance?’
I shake my head. I’ve no idea.
‘Parenting is a two-way street, babes,’ Em says sagely. ‘You share the load, right? So maybe there will be times when you have to prioritise work, and that will be okay, because Fran can take the parenting lead. And sometimes it will be the other way round.’
Stella mulls this over. ‘Sometimes, Emerald, you are quite wise.’
‘I totally know.’
‘Let’s keep talking about this,’ I say. ‘Because it’s not nice to feel burdened by a big decision on your own. If we can help in any way …’
‘Just being together is helping,’ Stella replies. ‘I love you two. What’s going on with your love life, Em? Did you bang that rugby player you messaged us about?’
‘Which one?’
‘How many have there been?’ I splutter.
‘Maybe two? Or was it three?’ she says, looking skywards for the answer. ‘I forget, but there’s nothing big to report in the romance department from me.’
‘What, not dating another Henry?’ Stella smirks.
I snort. Em has a history of dating only men called Henry, or occasionally Harry.
‘Oh ha ha.’ Em rolls her eyes. ‘Come to think of it, one of the rugby players was called Harry.’
‘Course he was.’ Stella chuckles. ‘We’ve lost count of how many Hens and Hazzas you’ve smashed.’
‘Oh god, same.’ Em smiles cheerfully. ‘The amount of times I’ve sexted the wrong Henry. But not anymore, my friends! I’ve actually done quite a bit of soul-searching about relationships of late. It’s all part of my Saturn Return no doubt, we all come to big crossroads at this time of our life.’
‘Do we?’
‘Don’t be such a Debbie Doubter, Stella.’ Em pokes her. ‘You can’t argue with the alignment of the planets.’
‘Well, no, but you can argue with whether it has an impact on your own life.’
Em scrapes the last of her plate clean then waves her hands at the rest of us. ‘Saturn is a fascinating planet. She’s associated with time, and she symbolises hard work and accolades but she can also be harsh and unforgiving. There’s no coincidence that we’re all approaching major crossroads in our lives with Saturn back to her original spot in our skies. This is a time of radical metamorphosis for us, babes. We’re learning lessons, sometimes the hard way, as we transform into true adulthood. Speaking of big things, how’s Orgasmic Otis, Jessie?’
I almost choke on my seabass.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Em!’ Stella tuts, slamming her cutlery down on her plate. ‘They broke up months ago!’
‘Oh my god, what ? I’m so sorry!’
I’m busy insisting that she must not apologise while Stella asks: ‘Do you not read your messages on the group chat, Emerald?’
Em looks terribly guilty. ‘Life has been so hectic and I may have skimmed through some and oh no! Jess, you poor thing! Are you okay?’
I brush this away. ‘I’m honestly fine, Em, seriously,’ I insist before I start chuckling at Em’s nickname for my greengrocer ex. Otis owns a fruit and veg shop in town called Organic Otis and when we got together Em took it and ran with it. ‘I’d totally forgotten you called him Orgasmic Otis.’
‘Physical connections are so important,’ Em muses. ‘Are you still getting your orgasms in, Jessie, post-split? They’re, like, vital for positive mental attitude.’
I look around to make sure no one can hear this embarrassing line of chat.
‘Um, well, it’s not like … He never really made me … I didn’t …’ I splutter, flustered.
‘Don’t tell me he never made you come?’ barks Stella, so loud that actual Dita Ortiz has turned to listen to us. I cringe from my toes up.
‘Shh! And … no, not really. Poor Otis.’
‘POOR OTIS?’ Stella is practically booming now. ‘Are you kidding me? All this time I thought, okay, the man’s a total dullard, but our Jess likes him so he must be doing something right. Maybe he comes alive in the bedroom, I thought. And now you tell us this? Honestly, Jess! You dated for, what, almost a year? And he never … in all that time …’
It’s not often Stella is lost for words but it appears that we have finally found what makes her speechless. My lacklustre sex life.
‘Do you want to come to a sex party?’ offers Em. ‘Because I’m hosting one in a couple of months.’
‘Erm,’ I squeak.
‘Of course she doesn’t,’ replies Stella. ‘She’d combust in embarrassment.’
‘So, hang on, when did you break up?’
I recount the whole sorry tale for Em’s benefit. How I’d been increasingly concerned that there had to be more to my romantic life than Otis, a man who once ranked aubergines above me on his scale of affection. How whatever bit of spark we had very much went once I realised that he could spend entire mealtimes telling me about the specific soil profile for a good carrot crop (neutral to slightly acidic, in case you were wondering) and yet not manage to ask one tiny question about my day. How I woke up one day and couldn’t for the life of me remember why we were together in the first place.
‘So I broke up with him,’ I wrap up. ‘It was awful, Em. Dramatically awful. He kept clutching at his chest and shouting: “The heartache!” I did feel bad.’
Stella tuts. Em’s mouth is hanging open.
‘You know what, Jess? I’m proud of you for doing that. It takes guts to see something for what it really is, and even more guts to break free. Omg, did you kick him out and throw his clothes out the window? Send him packing with gusto?’
‘You can take your vegetables and stick it!’ chips in Stella, grinning.
‘Ha yes. Stick that cucumber where the sun doesn’t shine!’ Em laughs.
‘Beet(root) it, Otis.’
‘Oh good one.’ Em grins. ‘It’s bean good but I’ll pea happier once you’ve moved out.’
They’re laughing so hard at their own jokes, with Stella punching Em lightly on the shoulder because she’s so impressed with the vegetable puns, that they almost don’t hear what I have to say next.
‘Well, guys, funny story …’ I begin, still chuckling. ‘He’s actually still in my flat!’