Lewis sipped his drink.
‘If you must know, I’m going with my old school friends, Morgan, Paige and Tiff. Morgan got in touch. She had a son shortly after we fell out and, well… her son’s father is that Hugo Black I’ve told you about, last seen at the prom, ruining my life.’
He sat upright. ‘Bloody hell, Ems. So you might come face to face with him again?’
‘Yup. Let’s hope he’s aged as well as me.’ She gave a wry smile. It was good to chat to someone familiar with the story. Emily had spoken to Lewis, over the years, about the best friends she’d ever had, and how Hugo had duped her and them.
‘I’m glad the four of you have found each other again. This could be just what you need.’
‘Oh, I won’t stay in touch, not after this week. I’m happy to help this Olly lad, he’s an innocent party in this, but those women let me down when I needed them most… I’m keeping it real.’
‘Don’t forget, those women were just girls when your friendship broke up. The teenage years… they’re damn tough. You never know, things might be different now.’
Emily shook her head. Although Lewis was right. Like all teenagers, they had been young and foolish back then. Not that that was an excuse for the way they’d deceived each other over Hugo… nor an excuse for the big thing Emily had kept from them. She felt guilty about it, even now.
Smudge strutted into the kitchen. He meowed at Lewis, who got off the stool and picked him up, stroking his silky ears.
‘Do you need me to feed Smudge whilst you’re away?’
‘Sheila next door is dropping by. You know how her grandkids love playing with him.’
Lewis put Smudge down, straightened up, rubbed the back of his head. ‘You could have great friends back in your life, Ems. You could stay with a career that’s been your calling. Everything is there for the taking.’
‘Not this again. For God’s sake, Lewis, leave it.’
He pushed his stool under the breakfast bar and went to the front door, dragging his feet as if he’d tried to resuscitate someone but failed.
Emily followed Lewis into the hallway as he put his jacket back on, a voice in her head imploring with him:Don’t leave yet. Have another drink. I miss the way you hum when you clean your teeth, never worked out how you managed it. And the way you whistle, out of tune, in the shower. I even miss picking up your wet towel.
‘It kills me to see you throwing away a life you were born for.’
And just like that, the voice stopped. She pursed her lips. ‘It’s different for you, Lewis. Your brother is a physio, your mum’s a nurse too, your dad a porter, your granddad used to be a doctor and his father was a surgeon during the war. Medicine, the NHS, caring for others, it’s ingrained in your DNA. It’s different for me. My mother cared more about her appearance than any other human being, buying expensive pills to make her skin tighter, her hair thicker. She never even bought me and my brother cheap multi-vitamins and… and now, during these last difficult years…’ Her breath hitched.
‘Go on,’ he said and nodded encouragingly, ‘I want to understand.’
She folded her arms.
A hard look came over his face. ‘There’s another reason you want to leave your job, but you’ve dug your heels in this last year, Ems, refusing to open up even though we’re married. Recently, I’ve sensed there’s something in the background and hoped, one day, you’d let me in so that we could talk it over…’ He shook his head. ‘Honesty – if we haven’t got that, we haven’t got anything.’ His voice wavered. ‘I can’t carry on like this.’ He took out his car keys. ‘The reason I’ve come by…’ He took a deep breath and his face crumpled, blink and you’d miss it. ‘I’ve contacted a solicitor.’
Emily leant one hand against the wall. He’d gotlegal advice? A hundred bottles of wine couldn’t ease how deeply that cut. She’d tried to talk to him about how leaving her job was to do with her mum but couldn’t bring herself to, the hurt went right into her core.
‘I’m initiating divorce proceedings. We can put the house up for sale. Both make a fresh start. I can’t live in that crappy little flat any longer, clinging to the possibility of you confiding in me. If you really want to find a different job, I’d support you, even though I think it’s a huge mistake, but I need to know why you resent me so much, for simply wanting you to fly in a career you’re brilliant at. I don’t understand why that’s wrong. I’m worried these jaded feelings of yours are just a temporary blip and that you’re giving up everything you’ve worked so hard for and might regret it. Tell me, Emily. You can trust me. Whatever it is.’
Emily wrung her hands. She wanted to. She couldn’t.
Lewis sighed and opened the front door. ‘If you can hold a grudge against your very best friends for nearly twenty years, then what chance do I stand?’
* * *
As Marlon rolled off, Tiff faced the spotless bedside cabinet. She’d checked into the airport hotel late afternoon yesterday, having told her parents it was a really early flight the next morning. A hand squeezed her shoulder. She turned around and admired the tanned skin, the pecs, those long legs. Marlon yawned, flashing his super white teeth.
‘Hello gorgeous. How’s Tiffany this morning?’
‘Ready for breakfast,’ she said and smiled.
‘Wish I could stay but the gym’s calling.’ He got up and walked butt naked to the bathroom and left the door open. Marlon ran a cup of water and drank it back.
If they could see her now, the school bullies would choke on their nasty words about Tiff and the others being losers. A magazine on top of her suitcase caught her attention; it had an interview with her in it. This should be enough, incoming fame, men lusting after her. So why did Tiff still feel she had something to prove? What would stop the goal posts moving? She’d told Mum and Dad the trip to France was to see a friend, the villa’s owner. Tiff couldn’t have coped with the questions, the expectations, if she’d told the truth. Mum still talked about the four friends as if they were teenagers and might have invited them over for tea and a game of Twister. Her stomach clenched at the prospect of the week ahead, as if she were about to go on stage but didn’t have any lines. Paige had always been the sophisticated one, grown up, in charge. Morgan talked sense, keeping them on track. Emily was soft-hearted, a calming presence, whereas Tiff was just seen as a joke, dramatic and impulsive. Well, things had changed and the others had better get used to it, otherwise she’d jump on an early plane back to England and cut all contact.
