Chapter Thirty-Seven Clara
Chapter Thirty-Seven CLARA
‘Morning, Enya!’ I greet her cheerfully from across the kitchen, but she raises a finger, a signal for me to shush. She’s writing something down, her phone talking in front of her.
Whoops, she’s obviously working. I can’t remember what she does for a job – or maybe we’ve never actually talked about it – but she looks deep into things right now. I head to the sink and find myself picking up Enya’s dishes to wash up. Yuck, Jemma’s had too much of an influence on me.
‘Sorry, babe!’ Behind me Enya stands up. ‘I was just listening to my gal pal’s voicemail! She goes on and on, and I forget everything I need to reply about, so I have to make notes. Like a voicemail agenda.’
‘I totally do that!’ I tell her enthusiastically, scrubbing at some kind of dried oaty mess. See, Enya and I have stuff in common after all! Maybe I could stay here a bit longer.
‘So!’ Enya’s voice is breezy with an undertone of awkward. ‘You’re really back! I thought you were in the UK for good.’
At the sink, I nod. ‘I sure am! I’ve really missed New York.
It’s the vibe, y’know? It can’t be beaten by stinky old London.
Who needs all those buildings over fifty years old and stiff upper lips?
I can’t wait to, like, catch up with everyone!
’ My voice is hollow. I want to mean all that but I just…
don’t. I haven’t missed being here and I don’t want to catch up with anyone.
‘That’s awesome!’ she says with enthusiasm in her Texas drawl.
‘We should hit up the clubs to celebrate. I’ll get us on some guestlists.
’ She pauses, then adds a little coolly, ‘And obvs bring Brandon since you guys are back together.’ I turn to grin at her excitedly – though I suddenly feel tired by the idea of it.
She continues as I balance a dripping plate on her draining board.
‘And of course, if you need, you can totally stay here for another…’ she pauses, ‘… night.’ My heart sinks.
Where am I going to go? I’ll have to move in with Brandon after all. Why does the idea make me feel so miserable?
But at least I’d have somewhere to stay. At least I’d be safe. And isn’t that why I married him in the first place? Because I thought it would make me safe.
Enya laughs. ‘Maybe even an extra two nights if you’re going to clean up after me! Thanks, girl! I don’t remember you being so well house trained last time you crashed here!’
I think the last time I crashed at Enya’s was last year. We had a wild night out for Independence Day – which I only found out that night wasn’t named after the Will Smith and Bill Pullman movie. I just thought the Yanks really, really liked that film.
It was the same bar where I later met Brandon.
I consider again the way Jemma looked at me when he turned up in London like that and told her who he was.
I haven’t replied to her messages. Or anyone’s. They’ve all tried to get in touch – Jem, Salma, Harry, Mum, Angela. I even got a Snapchat from Buffy, but it was mostly just to ask me to bring her a job lot of Twinkies the next time I’m coming home.
My phone buzzes and I dry my soapy hands on a damp tea towel. It’s Jemma again. I sigh, ready to throw the phone in the sink along with the dirty water, when the message preview catches my eye.
We’re at JFK.
I gasp, flicking the whole message open as more texts come in.
Me and Harry have come to see you, and if you don’t tell us where you are, or where we can meet you in the next hour, we will bill you for the flights.
Her next text comes in just seconds later.
I can see the double ticks, so I know you’re reading this. Reply immediately or I’m going to ring 911 and report you as a missing person.
And another one:
Harry says he’s come to cash in on his investment in your upcycling business – he says you owe him and you can’t just leave the country to avoid your debt.
I double gasp and Enya looks over curiously. ‘Do you need my notepad?’ she offers kindly and I shake my head.
Harry’s here, too?
My heart races. Have they come to confront me? To tell me to my face what an absolute arse I’ve been and how much they hate me?
But they’re here . How can they be here? They’ve come all this way, I have to go see them. Even if it is to let them tear shreds off me. They certainly deserve it.
‘You wanna hang out today?’ Enya offers. ‘I’m going to a life drawing class.’ She pauses. ‘I’m the model.’
Well, that decides things.
‘That sounds amaaaazing,’ I say, ‘but I’m actually going to meet my sister. Turns out she’s in town.’
Enya looks unimpressed. ‘Cool.’ Does Enya have family?
I really should know this stuff about a so-called friend.
Especially the only friend I seem to have in New York.
Back in England I could list the entire extended list of cousins Harry has dotted around Buckinghamshire – and the order in which he hates them most.
I message Jemma back, my heart hammering in my chest. I suggest a coffee place near the airport. It’s quiet and inexpensive. Y’know, in case she makes me pay for the drinks in her fury. My hands shake a little as I add three kisses.
You never know, maybe the Xs will make her hate me a tiny bit less.