Chapter 10
10
L ucy and Russell returned home just before eight that morning.
Fleur and Joni were still asleep but Cassie had been downstairs for over an hour – ever since Lucy had messaged to say that they were waiting to pick up a prescription then they’d be on their way.
As soon as she heard the car pull up, Cassie switched on the kettle, pressed down the knob on the toaster – she’d had four slices of bread ready and waiting – and forced herself not to pounce as soon as they walked in the door.
‘Everything all right?’ she asked casually as they came into the kitchen, as if they hadn’t spent several hours at the Whittington Hospital.
‘Had worse nights,’ Russell said, leaning heavily on the big kitchen table before sitting down.
‘Though I can’t remember when,’ Lucy added. ‘I need industrial amounts of coffee. How are the girls?’
‘They’re fine. They’re sleeping,’ Cassie said, as she took three mugs down from a cupboard.
‘And you?’ Russell asked, with a searching look in Cassie’s direction. ‘How are you?’
Cassie felt horrible. Everything ached. Even her hair follicles. It felt like someone had taken her skin off, then put it back the wrong way around. ‘I’m great,’ she insisted brightly. ‘Never mind me, how are you?’
Lucy and particularly Russell looked much as you’d expect from two people who’d been awake for twenty-four hours and counting, plus had travelled back from another country during that time as well as the whole hospital business.
‘It was something and nothing,’ Russell said. ‘My airways were a little blocked.’
‘That doesn’t sound like nothing.’ Cassie spooned coffee into the mugs. They had a coffee machine that rivalled Marc’s in its hugeness and complexity but it was hardly ever used. Only when there was company – Cassie didn’t count as company – and then they’d have to google the instructions.
‘Don’t fuss, Cass,’ Russell said lightly, holding up a bulging white paper bag. ‘I’ve got all sorts of medication in here and an inhaler for if it happens again.’
‘Or when it happens again.’ Lucy leaned against the island and rubbed her hand over her eyes. ‘We’re going to see the consultant tomorrow.’
‘But you’re all right now?’ It didn’t do any harm to check.
‘Yeah, I’m all right now,’ Russell confirmed.
If Cassie looked past Russell’s grey face, his tired, swollen eyes, he seemed the same as he ever did. Maybe even better because after two weeks in the French sun, he was tanned, his hair blonder than usual.
‘I owe you a massive favour,’ Lucy said, taking the mug of coffee that Cassie pushed towards her. ‘I’m so sorry for—’
‘You don’t need to finish that sentence. And you don’t owe me anything.’ Cassie paused to savour the aroma of her coffee as she tried to inhale the caffeine. ‘I said I’d be here for you.’
‘Well, at least have a shower and crash in the guest room, then we’ll do something nice for lunch,’ Lucy said.
Cassie shook her head then wished she hadn’t because the room seemed to spin. ‘I’ve got to go into work, but we’ll definitely do something nice one evening later in the week,’ she added as Lucy and Russell both looked at her as if she was mad.
She would have loved to take a mental health day. It was August, after all – her quiet period. Except this would be the one day she had two client meetings that couldn’t be postponed, including a dinner with the husband and wife owners of a premium skincare brand which was launching in the UK in October. They were only going to be in London for twenty-four hours, en route to their yacht, which was parked (did one park a yacht? Moor it? Anchor it? Cassie didn’t know anyone who owned a yacht who’d be able to solve this quandary) somewhere in Mykonos.
It was such an important dinner that Arlo, her boss, took one look at Cassie when she arrived in the office and told her to go and get her hair done. ‘Claim it on expenses,’ he said after Cassie haltingly tried to explain the reason why she was an hour late and looked like something that the council wouldn’t remove without charging a disposal fee. ‘Going forward, if you need to take time off, just let me know. September to December is manic but we’ll work something out.’
‘Oh, everything is fine now,’ Cassie said. She was sure last night had just been a blip and after Russell saw his consultant, the prognosis wouldn’t be so grim. Russell had said Christmas, but he was walking and talking and just generally being Russell and Cassie couldn’t see how that would drastically change in the next four months. ‘But thank you.’
‘Got to look after my best girl. Sorry, best woman,’ Arlo said with a sheepish smile. He was definitely the best boss. He’d picked Cassie up when she was absolutely defeated after closing her business and acted as if she was doing him a massive favour by agreeing to work for him.
Today, after her first important meeting at eleven, lunch was a limp takeaway salad and more coffee while Cassie was having a quick cut and blow dry.
Then she returned to Copper Media’s airy, top-floor offices in Soho Square, the sun pouring in through the picture windows so Cassie had to put her shades on. She’d reached the light-sensitivity stage of sleep deprivation.
‘Steady on there, Patsy, shweetie,’ said Jan, one of Cassie’s team. They were going through the calendar for the next month, but Cassie had to keep pausing to rest her head on the desk.
The events team had a bank of desks at the back of the open-plan office, the furthest away from the glass-walled reception area, but Cassie still had a prime view when a tall, lean man in a cream-coloured suit stepped out of the lift.
The man was talking to Georgii (with two ‘i’s) on reception as Jan walked them through the schedule for London Fashion Week. A second later, Cassie’s phone beeped.
‘Bloke here to see you. Surname is something French. Hasn’t got an appointment. Shall I tell him to do one?’
‘Oh no,’ Cassie whimpered. ‘Not today, Satan.’
Jan looked up from their shared screen with an offended expression. ‘You were the one who told me to book in a third event for the twelfth of September. It’s no use moaning about it now.’
‘It’s not that. It’s not you. It’s him,’ Cassie said, as the bloke with the French surname turned from the reception desk to look down the office. He spotted Cassie immediately, then raised a hand in a very imperious beckoning motion. ‘I’d better see what he wants.’
‘Well, we’re done here anyway,’ Jan said, closing his laptop with a soft but emphatic thud. ‘I’m going home now. What time’s your dinner?’
‘Not until seven.’ Cassie stood up and tugged at the back of her dress where the cotton was clinging to her legs.
It was one of Lucy’s dresses. The dress Cassie had picked up from the floor of her bedroom the previous night had a coffee stain on it.
It was a drapey, deconstructed slate-grey number – Lucy was a big fan of dresses that looked like complicated fabric sculptures on the hanger but worked on her because everything worked on her, whereas Cassie hadn’t been sure which was the neck hole and which the arm holes and kept tripping on the lowest point of the asymmetric hem, as she did now, while hurrying down the length of the office.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded of Marc who hadn’t taken his eyes off Cassie as she approached.
‘Lovely to see you too. I was in the area and I need to talk to you about something, so I thought I’d check if you were free,’ he said calmly. As usual, he was the picture of elegant self-assurance in an exquisitely cut suit, expensive sunglasses tucked into the open collar of his black shirt.
Behind him, Georgii pretended to swoon.
‘I’m sorry, you caught me off guard.’ It was very hard to be diplomatic on an hour’s sleep. ‘Is this about Lucy’s weekend?’ She couldn’t help but sag. ‘Is it very urgent or can it wait?’
‘I spoke to Russell. He explained about last night.’ Marc turned to the reception desk to retrieve a takeaway cup of coffee and a small box from Maison Bertaux. ‘I brought caffeine and sugar. Now can I tempt you away for fifteen minutes? We could find a bench in Soho Square.’
‘Is it instant coffee?’ Cassie asked with the ghost of a smile though she’d drunk more coffee today than the human body was designed to withstand.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Marc said gravely. ‘I begged the barista to use some desiccated granules from whatever jar she could find but she insisted on freshly ground beans and frothing the milk like its life depended on it.’
‘That’s a shame. But very kind, thank you,’ Cassie said, remembering her manners. She had her phone, she had her sunglasses, she was good to go. ‘OK, yeah. I can spare fifteen minutes.’
With a look downwards at Cassie’s feet in her ancient just-around-the-office flip-flops and the too-long hem on her dress, Marc ushered her into the lift as if he suspected, quite rightly, that if she tried to take the stairs it wouldn’t end well. Or maybe he still hadn’t recovered from the last time they’d gone down the stairs together.
Such a good girl.
As they stood shoulder to shoulder in the tiny lift, Cassie was glad that she was wearing her shades indoors, even if it did make her look like a massive media wanker.
Outside the offices, they crossed over the road to the small patch of green where hundreds of people were congregated in the way that Londoners did when it wasn’t raining and it was the only grassy surface for a good mile or so. ‘We probably won’t be able to find a bench,’ she warned Marc with a glance towards his pristine cream tailoring.
Cassie often thought of Marc as one of those people who good fortune smiled on, even though he didn’t deserve it. Taxis appeared as soon as he stood on a kerb and raised his arm. Restaurant reservations never eluded him and he never got stuck with the early slot and forty-five minutes to order, eat then vacate.
So, inevitably, immediately, two people got up from a bench a little distance away and within a couple of long strides, Marc had claimed it as Cassie scurried after him.
He didn’t say anything but handed over the coffee and the cake box, which contained a chocolate éclair.
‘Thank you. Did you want to share?’ She held up the box but Marc shook his head. ‘I’ll save it for later,’ she said when really she wanted to demolish it in three quick bites. ‘So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?’
‘I think we’ve come to a better understanding of each other these last couple of weeks, don’t you?’ Marc asked, sliding on his own shades, then crossing his long legs. ‘Much better to be friends.’
They had a long, long history which meant that friends was never going to be an option. ‘Friendlier,’ Cassie conceded. ‘Which is good. I don’t like us to … be constantly sniping at each other.’
‘Really?’ It was amazing how Marc could make that humble six-letter word sound so sceptical. ‘I was under the impression you enjoyed it.’
‘Of course I don’t.’ Cassie took a huge gulp of coffee to wash away the lie because she always took great satisfaction in seeing her barbs pierce Marc’s cool exterior.
‘Well, I enjoyed it,’ Marc murmured, then shifted position so his body was turned towards Cassie and she could feel the heat of him. The expensive aftershave he wore, notes of suede and amber and something a little sharper. ‘Why are you sniffing? Do you have hay fever?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ Another gulp of coffee. ‘Do go on – you were saying how much pleasure you get from being mean to me.’
‘As if you don’t give as good as you get,’ Marc drawled.
Cassie shrugged. ‘Coming from you, that’s a compliment.’
They might be friend lier but there was still an edge that separated them and always would.
‘Anyway, as illuminating as this conversation has been, it’s not why I’m here,’ Marc said. He seemed a little nervous. Usually he was quite still, in a way that always made Cassie think of a panther or some other sleek big cat about to pounce but today, he was jiggling a foot (in a very expensive Tom Ford trainer) and the fingers of one hand were drumming out a tattoo on his knee.
Cassie braced herself for more changes to the party itinerary or a worldwide shortage of champagne driving the price up. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense. You might as well just come straight out with it.’
‘Very well.’ Marc adjusted his shirt collar. ‘I’m worried about Russell.’
He said it without emotion, but the fact that he was saying it at all, to her , made panic rise up in Cassie. She took several large sips of coffee to tamp it down.
‘Last night was dramatic,’ she said slowly. ‘I was worried too; frightened; and the girls, they were very upset.’
‘We really do have to think about Fleur and Joni in all this. And Lucy. It’s all about Russell but at the same time, it’s not just about Russell,’ Marc said obliquely.
Usually Cassie wouldn’t ask for subtitles. She didn’t want him to let out a long-suffering sigh like she wasn’t clever enough to understand him. But today she was tired, so bloody tired, and they were friendlier.
‘I’m sorry, Marc. I don’t understand what you’re getting at,’ she admitted. ‘You’re going to have to spell it out.’
He nodded. ‘We both want what’s best for the four of them, yes?’
‘Yes! Of course, yes!’
‘And they all adore you,’ Marc said softly, which touched Cassie in her fragile state. ‘You’re not just a close friend. You’re practically family.’
His words prompted that familiar prickle of tears that was never far away these days. Cassie rubbed a careful finger under one eye, then the other.
‘Don’t cry,’ Marc ordered, because Cassie wasn’t allowed to cry. That’s all anyone ever seemed to say to her lately. Lucy, Russell, now Marc. Yet when Cassie was on her own and desperate for a really cathartic cry, she still couldn’t squeeze out a single tear.
‘I’m not crying,’ Cassie muttered. ‘But I hope they do love me as much as I love all of them. And I know you love them too. In your way.’
Cassie wasn’t sure how Marc felt about anything or anyone. But he and Russell had been friends since prep school. And Lucy had always had the softest of spots for Marc. Fleur and Joni, well, they certainly loved the way he spoiled them on birthdays and Christmas and sometimes just because.
Marc smiled faintly at Cassie’s weak endorsement and then, as if it wasn’t strange enough that he’d sought her out today and been nice to her, he suddenly took her hand in a firm grip like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.
What strange days these were. Everything that Cassie knew or thought she knew had been turned upside down, pulled inside out and off its moorings. It was one of those very rare occasions since the night they’d first met, all those years ago, when she and Marc were alone together. Holding hands again.
‘You’re beginning to freak me out,’ she said bluntly and Marc gave her hand a consoling squeeze.
‘We have to be a team now, Cassie,’ he said in a soft but compelling voice so Cassie couldn’t tear her gaze away from the intent look on his face. ‘You and me. We have to present a united front.’
‘I know that,’ she said, her voice wavering slightly because this was a lot, emotionally, to deal with.
‘I don’t like to use the word intervention because it’s something of a cliché and actually as a method of persuasion it’s far from efficacious …’
His voice washed over Cassie because again she didn’t really understand what Marc was saying, but the way he said it in his deep voice with just that suggestion of a French accent despite all these years in England was quite mesmerising when she let herself just give in to it.
‘… and I know that I was too heavy-handed before, but it was such a shock. Of course Russell doesn’t want to go to LA, but now I’ve found a team in Zurich, which is much closer, who’ve had some very promising, positive results for patients with stage four cancer …’
That brought Cassie back to full consciousness. ‘Russell was very specific about only wanting palliative care,’ she reminded him. ‘You have to respect that.’
Marc’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. ‘I don’t think Russell is thinking too clearly. Which is understandable. I can’t imagine what he’s going through …’
‘Then why are you—’
‘If I had what Russell has – a family, people who love him, rely on him – I’d be fighting this battle with everything I had,’ Marc continued, still with the handholding, still with his gaze on Cassie and even though they were both wearing sunglasses, to be his sole focus was still unnerving.
‘Look, I don’t think it’s very helpful to use terminology like fight and battle when you’re talking about this. Studies actually say—’
‘This clinic in Zurich can perform a radical surgery, then once Russell’s white blood cell count is up, after a complete blood transfusion, chemo and radiotherapy have a much better chance of working.’ Marc gave Cassie’s hand a little shake. ‘It’s worth a try. I know you can get Lucy onboard, then I’m sure Russell will agree too. If it gets him even six more months with the girls, with us, then he has to do it. It could even be years. So, what do you think?’
Cassie had never seen Marc this impassioned about anything or anyone. She’d often wondered why he and Russell were friends when Russell was so caring, so kind, such good company and Marc was … none of those things.
But it turned out that Marc really did care for Russell, and by extension, Lucy and the girls. Even so …
‘I know this is coming from a good place, I know that, but I can’t be part of this,’ she said gently, patting the hand that was still holding hers. ‘It’s not what Russell wants. I’m sure he and Lucy have weighed up all the different options available.’
‘Have you spoken to them about it, then?’ Marc asked sharply.
Cassie shook her head. ‘We’ve more talked around it.’ She couldn’t even say the c-word and every time she tried, she was told not to start crying.
‘If you talked to them, they’d listen,’ he insisted.
‘No, I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s the right thing to do.’ Cassie longed to free her hand, to stop this awful conversation and escape. Even the prospect of an important work dinner with tricky clients was more welcome than this. ‘I really have to be getting back now.’
‘If you care for Russell, really care, then you’d do this,’ Marc said in a low, urgent voice as he leaned closer to Cassie so she felt as if he were about to swallow her whole.
‘Of course I care about Russell … it’s because I care about him that I’m respecting his wishes.’ If she and Marc were closer, if their friendliness went back further than two weeks, then Cassie might have confided in him. Explained why she was going to have nothing to do with any kind of intervention or trying to push Russell onto a path he didn’t want to walk.
Marc let go of Cassie’s hand. He straightened up, put his shoulders back and as he looked at her, his features tightened in a way that she knew only too well.
‘It doesn’t seem like you care very much about him at all,’ he said. All the warmth was gone from his voice. Now he sounded like a nuclear winter.
It was just as well that Cassie had enough heat for both of them. ‘How dare you say that to me! If you cared about Russell, you’d listen to what he wanted instead of thinking that you always know best.’
There it was! That curl of his top lip. Cassie really hadn’t missed it. ‘You always have to get so emotional instead of thinking rationally. Formulating a plan, considering the options, laying the groundwork …’
‘Oh!’ Cassie jumped to her feet so she could loom over Marc for a change. ‘I should have known the Mr Nice Guy routine these last few weeks was just an act.’
Marc stood up too because he had the copyright on looming. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You know exactly what I mean,’ Cassie said, jabbing a finger at him for emphasis, not quite making contact with his chest. ‘I remember only too well just how nice you can be when you want something.’
‘What have I ever wanted from you?’ he asked with that entirely humourless smile that Cassie wanted to take a sledgehammer to.
‘I’m amazed that this time you even asked me, because before you just took, no questions asked.’
‘I didn’t need to take what you gave away so freely,’ he rapped back at her and even though they never talked about it , what had happened between them on that May night, sixteen years ago, they were suddenly talking about it now.
Not even talking but throwing accusations and counter-accusations at each other, but still Cassie couldn’t say the words. You did something awful to me and I’ve never got over it.
And she wasn’t going to say them now. ‘I’m not doing this,’ she said instead and walked away from Marc with her shoulders back and her heart on the ground.