Chapter 4
4
W hen Cassie woke up, and managed to haul herself out of bed several long minutes after that, she was fit for nothing. She felt as if she’d downed a bottle of meths rather than three large glasses of rosé. How she wished that last night had never happened and Russell was … he wasn’t … that everything was going to be fine.
On Saturday mornings she and Lucy took a yoga class in the park. One of the very last things that Cassie felt like doing was yoga. With Lucy. Or doing anything with Lucy.
She typed out a message. ‘Are we yoga-ing this morning? No worries if not! xxx’
Was that enough? What else could Cassie possibly add? ‘Btw, I’m sorry your husband is …’
No, she still couldn’t even think it. Cassie sent the message and hated herself a little bit for the relief when Lucy replied immediately.
Lucy: Can’t make yoga. Sorry. x
The relief was short-lived.
Lucy: But can do brunch. Usual place? 10.30?
Cassie: Cool. See you then. x
There was no point in avoiding Lucy. However awful Cassie was feeling, Lucy had to be feeling a thousand times worse.
She did think about skiving off yoga in favour of wallowing in her own misery for a couple of hours, but then there was another ping from her phone. A message from Castiel (probably not his government name) the yoga instructor, reminding Cassie that she’d promised to lend him her copy of The Green Roasting Tin because he was hoping to impress a second date by cooking for her tomorrow.
It was the universe’s way of telling Cassie that she really would feel much better for getting out into nature, seeing friends and exercising. Also, Castiel was a lovely young man and who was Cassie to thwart his romantic plans?
Even so, she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a sweaty session of al fresco yoga. It wasn’t even eight thirty and she was already moist as she yanked on her tight-fitting yoga vest and leggings. That was a workout in itself.
Two hours later, as she walked back along Muswell Hill Broadway with her yoga mat tucked under her arm, Cassie did feel better and also a lot more bendy.
As she neared the café that was their favourite brunch spot, Cassie saw Lucy waiting outside. She was looking at her phone, her face drawn and serious despite the cheery turquoise drapey top she was wearing with white jeans.
The closer she got, the more Cassie felt inexplicably shy and awkward, as if she’d forgotten how to speak to her best friend. Then Lucy looked up from her phone and waved. ‘Here she is!’
It was easy enough to say ‘Hi,’ even if Cassie knew that her smile was forced. She held out her arms for their usual hug, but Lucy shied away. ‘I’m sorry, Cass, but I can’t because it will make me cry. And you’re not to cry either …’
‘I’m not going to cry,’ Cassie protested even though her eyes were already throbbing.
‘I just can’t, Cass. I need things, I need you, to be normal.’
Cassie nodded as she held her face very still until the threat of tears had gone. ‘I can do normal but I really need food first. I’m starving. Castiel made us do that open-legged squat thing …’
‘Garland pose,’ Lucy said as she held the café door open for Cassie.
‘I was terrified I was going to fart,’ she muttered, which made Lucy smile, and that felt like a win.
Even though it was that busy stretch on a Saturday morning when a late breakfast became brunch, they were seated immediately.
‘I can’t wait for all these people to go on their summer holidays,’ Cassie said, because in a week or so, Muswell Hill would be virtually deserted as its more well-heeled citizens decamped for what felt like the whole of summer. ‘Are you still going to France after the girls have broken up?’
Lucy’s parents owned a farmhouse just outside Nantes. The whole extended family spent their summers there. Cassie had been invited a couple of times and it was always blissful. Mornings spent buying fresh baguettes and pastries from the local boulangeries , and visiting brocantes , then long, lazy afternoons around the pool.
‘Only for a couple of weeks,’ Lucy said. ‘We can’t disappear for the whole summer. Not when … there’s a lot to organise and Russell … he can’t be away from his doctor for so long because, you know …’
Lucy’s voice was catching again and Cassie had never been so pleased to greet the server who was bearing down on them.
After they’d given their order and fussed with menus and the bottle of cold, mint-infused water that had appeared, Cassie took a deep breath and looked Lucy straight in the eye.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked.
Lucy shook her head. ‘No.’ She took a long gulp of water. ‘You know how we have this pact that I won’t treat you like the kooky single friend and live vicariously through tales of your dating life …’
‘And we don’t want to have conversations that wouldn’t pass the Bechdel test,’ Cassie reminded her.
‘Absolutely but God, Cass, I could really do with some light conversation about your latest date.’ Lucy bared her teeth in an approximation of a smile. ‘Please say that you’ve been on a date recently.’
Even if she hadn’t, Cassie would have made something up, but there was no need to because, ‘On Wednesday night I met some guy I’d matched with on Hinge,’ she said as Lucy settled back in her chair. ‘He works round the corner from me so we agreed to meet for a quick drink. No pressure. No expectations.’
‘No point in chatting for weeks on end until it all fizzles out,’ Lucy agreed. She’d never had to brave the dating apps herself but had indeed lived vicariously through many tales of Cassie’s adventures in dating.
‘So we meet and he actually looks quite like his pictures. Definitely not over six foot as he claimed but I was happy to let that one go. Added bonus, he didn’t flee in horror when I approached him.’
‘I should think not,’ Lucy said indignantly. ‘You’re gorgeous.’
‘Thank you for the validation.’ Gorgeous was maybe pushing it. Even if Cassie had looked like a supermodel, but a relatable supermodel, on the dating apps she was regarded as too old, too desperate and too likely to have a very high body count. None of which had seemed to bother Kevin.
‘Kevin? I can’t imagine groaning “Kevin” in the throes of passion,’ Lucy said with a genuine giggle as their food arrived.
‘That’s not going to be an issue,’ Cassie said, piercing her poached egg with her fork so the golden yolk oozed obligingly over the smashed avocado on her sourdough toast. ‘He asked if I wanted a drink and I said I’d just have a tonic water because you remember that I’ve stopped drinking alcohol during the week? Anyway, he kept pressing me to have a cocktail, said it would loosen me up, which I thought was very optimistic of him, so I said I had a couple of big projects on at work and I needed a clear head in the morning.’ Cassie paused to take a gigantic bite of loaded toast because her body had been denied sustenance for far too long.
‘Which is entirely reasonable,’ Lucy interjected, following her remit as a best friend to weigh in like a simpatico Greek chorus.
‘Right. Then he asked me what I did and I told him and he …’ Another pause, another bite of toast.
‘And he?’ prompted Lucy because as distractions went, this tale of what was soon to become woe was proving to be a winner.
Cassie held her hand up as she chewed, then swallowed. ‘And he said, “Well, it’s not like you’re splitting the atom, is it, dear?”’
‘He didn’t?’ This was worthy of Lucy putting down her knife and fork. ‘What did you say?’
‘Oh, he did. And I didn’t say anything, I just raised my eyebrows …’
‘Never a good sign when you do that …’
‘Then at least twenty very awkward seconds passed until he said, “That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it?” and we decided that it was probably best to cut our losses and end things right there.’
Lucy reached across the table to pat Cassie’s arm. ‘God, that’s brutal.’
‘Not my most successful date ever but also, not the worst. Not even close,’ Cassie said, and she had to laugh, but it was quite a hollow laugh.
‘One day you’re going to find someone amazing who will worship you like the queen you are.’
‘Well, I wish he’d bloody hurry up.’
There was a brief intermission as they finished eating, then ordered another coffee each.
‘Emma says that I should think about dating divorced men.’ Cassie didn’t think much of her aunt’s theory but it was worth floating to Lucy as another distraction. ‘They’ve already been whipped into shape by another woman and I might as well benefit from all her hard work.’
‘Unless they got divorced because they can’t keep it in their pants,’ Lucy pointed out.
Cassie had been of the same opinion, and added, ‘Also, very likely to be quite bitter, and to want to date younger. A lot younger – plus I might end up being a wicked stepmother to a whole brood of resentful stepchildren.’
‘Not wicked,’ Lucy said. Then she smiled.
Despite having to shoulder her own considerable burdens, which had to be responsible for the purple shadows and the little furrow in her forehead, she still looked so much like the chaotic young woman that Cassie had met all those years ago. She was a lot less chaotic now, but her hair was still a glorious buttery yellow, and although there were fine lines creeping into the corners of her eyes and mouth, when she smiled, the years, the burdens, were suddenly erased and she could have been that twenty-three-year-old personality hire determined to stop Cassie from getting through her own work. ‘We both know someone who is divorced, definitely doesn’t have any children and, as far as I’m aware, has been dating in an appropriate age bracket. Just saying …’
‘Don’t say that and don’t smile like that, it’s very creepy.’ Cassie’s shoulders stiffened. She was genuinely alarmed at the unpleasant turn this conversation had suddenly taken. ‘Yes, he’s Russell’s best friend, but Marc and I are nothing more than mutuals. Also, hello! You and Russell were very quick to warn me off him at your wedding.’
‘That was sixteen years ago. The divorce has softened him. Did I mention that he’s absolutely loaded?’ Lucy’s smile was now pure mischief.
‘Would you like me to list all the ways that this is never going to happen?’ Marc was also a sarcastic, condescending man. Getting divorced and even losing some of his considerable wealth thanks to the pandemic hadn’t humbled or softened him in the slightest. Besides, he and Cassie had burned several bridges within twenty-four hours of first meeting and there was no coming back from that bruising introduction.
Not that Cassie could say this to Lucy. She and Russell didn’t have a clue about what had really happened at their wedding. She was relieved to hear several pings from her phone.
‘Emma,’ she explained to Lucy as she opened the messages from her aunt, who was only eight years older than her and more of a big sister. ‘We’re going out tonight. Nothing fancy – just her local Italian.’
‘Give her my love,’ Lucy said as she made the universal sign language for ‘can we get the bill?’ at their server.
‘You’re welcome to come along,’ Cassie said, because Emma, like her whole family, loved Lucy almost as much as she did.
‘I’d love to but Joni’s having a sleepover so I need to stick around to make sure that they don’t get high on bubble tea and pick ’n’ mix and wreck the place.’ Lucy pulled a face. ‘I do love an Italian, though. Maybe we can go to that new small-plates place in Crouch End for my birthday.’
‘But it’s your fortieth. You don’t want to do something more exciting?’ Cassie asked delicately.
‘Russell was going to plan something but that isn’t important any more.’
The mood had shifted again.
Much as Cassie wished they could really pretend that it wasn’t happening, she waited until they were about to say their goodbyes.
Next to them there was a long line of mopeds and delivery drivers lined up in a parking bay. The beep of the pedestrian crossing. A woman with a pushchair carrying a silver helium ‘Happy Birthday’ balloon from the toy shop across the road. All of it normal. Mundane. Ordinary.
It was a scene the two of them had played out a thousand times.
But now saying goodbye to Lucy felt extraordinary. It was hard to find the right words in the right order for what Cassie wanted to say. She took hold of Lucy’s hand. ‘I know you don’t want to talk about it, I get that, but I love you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I’m here.’
Lucy squeezed Cassie’s fingers. ‘I … we don’t need anything. Not yet.’ Her sigh said everything. ‘God, Cass, I don’t know what life is going to look like even a month from now, two months.’
‘Whatever it looks like, I’ll be right there with you,’ Cassie said and they parted with the unspoken acknowledgement that they’d be WhatsApping within the hour.
Two minutes later, Cassie hadn’t even made it home when she felt her phone vibrate. But the message wasn’t from Lucy. It was from Russell.
Russell: We need to talk. Tuesday? Usual time, usual place?