Chapter Sixteen
I blinked like a mole as I descended the short flight of steps and left the dwindling light of early evening to slip into an interior that felt like midnight in contrast. I paused by the doorway to allow my eyes to adjust and wished my pulse would do the same. I was nervous, and I had no idea why.
I’d spent countless evenings in bars, pubs, and clubs with Jackson, although admittedly Mel had usually been present too.
Tonight, it would be just Jackson and me, a fact he’d been very clear about when he’d messaged to invite me out for a drink.
I could only assume Mel had filled him in on my unexpected visit to her home two weeks ago and that she still didn’t want to see me socially.
Even though I’d heard from her several times in the interim, it had only been in connection with the Florrie’s project, when she’d needed a question answered or more information about something.
‘Mel’s definitely not coming?’ I’d asked Jackson, hoping the wistful note in my voice wasn’t as noticeable to him as it was to me.
‘No, Ells. It’ll just be you and me. That’s okay, isn’t it?’
‘Absolutely fine,’ I’d assured him. At least fifty per cent of my friends were willing to forgive me for ignoring them. I was just going to have to work harder to win the other half over. All I could do was hope I’d banked enough good friend credits in the years before I checked out of the group.
I straightened my spine and stole a quick glance in the enormous smoked glass mirror by the doorway.
My hair was loosely styled in beachy waves and my make-up freshly applied after work.
The jeans I was wearing were so new they still crunched when I sat down, but they went well with the black halter top I’d teamed them with.
I drew in a steadying breath and headed into the main bar.
One of the servers directed me towards the booth at the back of the bar which Jackson had reserved.
‘The other member of your party is already there,’ the waitress told me with a wave of her hand.
I zigzagged through tables to reach the booth, a smile and a greeting already on my lips. Both froze as the shadowy shape waiting for me in the booth looked up at my approach. It’s hard to say which one of us looked the most surprised.
‘Jackson,’ Mel said, her voice practically a growl.
I was just as quick to put the pieces together. ‘He’s not here, is he?’ Though it wasn’t really a question.
‘Of course he isn’t,’ Mel said, squeezing out the words through lips pursed tight in irritation.
I held up my hands in defence. ‘I knew nothing about this, Mel. He told me it was just going to be him and me.’
‘Ditto,’ Mel said. If she was a cartoon drawing, there would be steam coming out of her ears right now.
I was still wondering what to say next when both of our phones pinged simultaneously.
‘Don’t be mad.’ Mel read the words on her screen out loud, even though the exact same message was on mine.
‘It was the only way I could think of to get you both on neutral territory,’ I completed.
Our eyes met and locked.
‘Interfering, meddling little busybody,’ Mel muttered furiously, setting her phone down on the table.
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ I said, unthinkingly sliding into the seat opposite her.
Both our mobiles chimed again. Mel glared at hers as I read our incoming message.
‘So now you can both bitch about what a pain in the backside I am, and then, when you’re done with that, for fuck’s sake get over yourselves and kiss and make up. This nonsense has gone on for long enough.’
‘Un-be-liev-a-ble,’ Mel said, dragging all five syllables out of the word.
I huffed out a laugh. ‘He’s not changed much over the years, has he?’
‘He never could stand conflict,’ Mel agreed with a sigh.
I looked up when a shadow fell across the table as a waitress carrying a tray of cocktails came to a stop beside our booth.
‘These are from Jackson,’ she said, sounding a little bemused. She frowned as though trying to remember her next line. ‘He said, “Don’t throw them at each other.”’ She set two margaritas down in front of us.
‘As if,’ Mel said, sliding a glass closer. ‘I hope he’s left a sizeable amount on the bar tab.’ The waitress backed away with a slightly nervous smile.
‘So, what do we do now?’ I asked, still unsure if Mel intended to get to her feet and leave.
‘I guess we stay,’ she said, lifting her glass from the table as her phone pinged.
She read the screen and her eyes flickered with an expression that looked troubled.
‘What did he say?’ I asked, as my own phone had remained silent.
‘Talk to Ellie. Tell her what’s been going on with you.’
My eyes probably held a thousand questions as they searched her clearly distraught face.
My phone dragged my attention away.
Mel looked up, waiting to hear the latest missive.
‘Don’t screw this up, Harker,’ I read in a deadpan tone.
‘What did Jackson mean? What is it that you’re not telling me? Because whatever it is, I want to help.’
Mel was biting her lip, drawing the sensitive skin back and forth until it began to look painful.
‘Not having you around to talk to was always going to hurt, but you unknowingly picked the worst time ever to go AWOL.’ Her chest gave a tiny hitch, and I could see how close she was to tears. ‘And that’s been hard, because I could have really done with you being around these last six months.’
I wanted to get out of my seat and put my arms around her, but had I lost the right to offer that kind of support? Wasn’t that reserved for friends who know what you’ve been dealing with, because they’ve been right there beside you, helping you through it? Whatever the hell ‘it’ was.
Throwing caution to the wind, I reached across the table and gripped her hand. She didn’t pull away.
‘I don’t know what’s happened. I don’t know what you’re having to deal with, but please, Mel, let me help you.’
There were tears running slowly down her cheeks as she looked up at me. She looked tragic and ethereal and incredibly beautiful.
‘Whatever is wrong, let me try to fix it.’
‘You can’t,’ she said softly, her lips managing to summon up a sad smile.
I was frantically rifling through ideas of what was troubling her.
Was Steve the one who was sick? Were they in financial trouble?
Had he lost his job? Was he cheating on her?
The last seemed almost as ludicrous as imagining anyone ever cheating on Rhys.
Steve and Mel were one of the most well-matched and in-love couples I’d ever met.
‘At least let me try to help,’ I implored.
‘It’s not possible,’ she said, reaching up to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand. ‘Unless you’re willing to have a baby for me. Because it turns out that’s something I can’t do myself.’
It took half an hour and another round of margaritas for her to tell me everything I would have known if I hadn’t dropped off the radar and devoted all my time to nurturing my business instead of my friends. How could I have got my priorities so badly screwed up?
‘As far back as two years ago we suspected there might be a problem,’ Mel confided. ‘We’d always been a bit hit-and-miss with birth control and when we abandoned it completely, I imagined I’d fall straight away.’
That would have been my worst nightmare, but Mel was different; for her it was a perfect fit.
She would glow throughout pregnancy, she would blossom, she was a natural-born earth mother.
But it seemed nature had no intention of making it that easy.
Mel and Steve hadn’t got pregnant. ‘And let me tell you, it wasn’t for want of trying,’ she said, colouring in a way that brought some much-needed pink back to her cheeks.
‘I tried homeopathic remedies, crystals, herbal therapies, anything I could think of to work with my body in a natural and healing way.’ She looked across at me, one eyebrow half raised. I knew what she was waiting for, some reaction of cynicism or disbelief. I showed nothing.
‘Wow, you really do feel bad about ghosting me, don’t you? That was great bait, and you didn’t even take a nibble.’
‘I’m a changed woman,’ I said, but now wasn’t the moment to tell her why or how. ‘And besides, I know absolutely nothing about fertility. If dancing naked in a meadow under a full moon helps . . . then you should definitely give it a try.’
Mel’s lips twitched and I was so grateful to have made her smile I almost cheered.
‘Obviously we did try that. But nothing,’ she joked, before her face sobered again. ‘So, then we turned to conventional medicine.’
I drew in a deep breath. I knew how Mel felt about doctors, hospitals, and medical technology.
It was a hang-up from losing her mum so young, but hospitals terrified her.
For Mel and Steve to embark on the kind of journey they’d been on – were still on – spoke volumes about just how much they wanted this.
I should have been there, giving her whatever support she’d needed. But instead, I’d taken my eye off the ball for so long the game had gone on without me.
‘We’ve had two failed attempts at IVF now,’ she admitted sadly, telling the fabric of her skirt rather than meet my eyes. ‘And that’s all we’re allowed on the NHS. From hereon we’ll have to save up and go private.’
‘Oh, Mel, I’m so sorry.’
‘I wanted to cancel our trip to New York, cash in the tickets, but Steve insisted we needed some time away from doctors’ appointments, hormone injections, and temperature charts.’
I nodded wisely as though I knew exactly what they’d been going through, but she was speaking the language of a country I’d never visited, nor one I’d ever particularly wanted to see.
‘It’s wearing. It takes it out of you. And it was starting to become all we ever spoke about. That’s not healthy.’
I shook my head and squeezed her hand. ‘No. It’s far better to obsess about how many likes your latest TikTok got, or how many properties you currently have listed on your books.’ I gave a humourless laugh. ‘That’s way healthier.’
My eyes went to hers and I tried to convey the depth of just how sorry I was that I’d failed her. It was the first time our friendship had ever been tested, and I’d flunked the exam.
‘I could have reached out to you,’ Mel said, with a graciousness she didn’t need to show me. ‘I guess I just didn’t want to admit I was so rubbish at doing the one thing my stupid body was built to do.’
‘I won’t have you speaking about my friend like that,’ I said, injecting a small dose of humour into my words. I sobered for a second and bit my lip uncertainly. ‘That’s if I’m still allowed to call you that.’
In answer she looked up at me through tear-spiked lashes. ‘Who else would put up with you? Who else would stay up all night talking to you when you have a problem?’
I was glad my face was partly in shadow so she couldn’t read the expression on it. If she had, she’d have known about Rhys. Don’t ask me how . . . but she’d have known.