‘Lunch. Lunch? Oh crap.’ I take the coffee from him in two hands. ‘What time is it?’
‘Eleven thirty. I let you sleep as long as I could.’
I rub my eyes and realise I’m still wearing last night’s make-up. ‘I guess it was a late night.’
‘We’ll leave at one.’
I nod and smile, waiting for him to drop a kiss on my nose or my brow or touch me. But his dark eyes are seemingly a match for his mood: serious and troubled. He leaves the room and leaves me feeling confused. But this is Mr Screwed-up and Neurotic. Nothing should surprise me.
After showering, I ponder what to wear to an engagement lunch and settle on a dusty-pink blouse, tied at the neck,coupled with a dusty-pink-and-grey tweed skirt. Gregory finishes tying his shoelaces, then adjusts his shirt, tucking it neatly into the top of his navy chinos. He turns when he hears my heels clip-clop down the staircase and pulls the cuffs of his shirt just so, slightly longer than his dark-grey blazer. He looks divine. As ever. I lift my chin, waiting for his kiss but it doesn’t come. He twirls the curls in the bottom of my hair in his fingers with a furrowed brow, then steps back from me, distant in every sense.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask.
He swallows, deep, audibly. ‘Fine,’ he says through a set jaw.
‘Fine?’
‘Fine,’ he says with a smile that fails to reach his eyes. Last night was one of the best nights of my life –thebest night of my life – and today, he’sfine.There I was, hopelessly assuming that after the CPS decision, those peaks and troughs might stabilise. No chance.
Pulling on my coat, I follow him out into the hall.One day, I tell myself. But my conviction is waning.
There’s an uncomfortable silence in the Ferrari the entire way to Lara’s house. It isn’t until we pull onto the gravelled driveway and the big, white house comes into view that I start to think I might understand why Gregory is in a foul mood. We haven’t been here sincethatnight. I hug the bottle of Krug in my lap into my stomach without consciously needing the comfort.
An overly cheery Lara bounds towards us and pulls us, one at a time, into her chest, as the Ferrari is driven away to be parked.
‘Mother,’ Gregory says, in no better mood with Lara, it would seem.
‘Smarten that face up, young man. Scarlett,’ she sings. ‘Come here.’
‘Thank you for inviting us, Lara.’
She slips her arm around my waist and takes the Krug from me, handing it to Gregory, who’s already carrying a large bouquet of flowers. ‘Nonsense, Sandy would’ve refused lunch without you.’
She skips into the house before us, her black wide-leg trousers catching in the breeze to be displayed to their full advantage. She subtly checks her white blouse in the hallway mirror and pushes some volume into the roots of her hair.
‘Sandy.’ I throw my arms around her and squeeze her as tight as I can until her sweet giggle escapes her chest. The one person I will always know I can rely on, no matter how bad or how dark life gets. ‘These are for you.’ I motion to the champagne and flowers Gregory holds and turn my attention to Jackson, kissing him on the cheek as Gregory does the same to Sandy.
The men shake hands and follow behind Sandy and me as I swoon over her shiny ring. A thin, platinum band with one sole, modest princess-cut diamond. ‘It’s beautiful.’
I turn my eyes around the large, oval dining table as chateaubriand is served. Sandy looks as uncomfortable as ever as she’s waited on but happier each time Jackson speaks to her, nudges her, nips her hand in his. Williams has brought Amanda with him and whilst they look happy, there’s an air of unsureness passing between them. But they smile and laugh in a way that tells me they’ll be just fine. Lawrence is more concerned with the food than Lara and her demand for attention but he has a certain playful sparkle in his eyes when he shakes his head at yet another story.
I smile as I look on at those closest to me and those who, maybe one day, will be.
I can feel Gregory’s eyes burning holes into my side. He’shardly touched his meal but his knife and fork are still, together at six o’clock on his plate.
My smile disappears on a sigh. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask for the fourth time this afternoon.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Fine. You’ve beenfineall afternoon.’ As I place my cutlery at six o’clock to reflect Gregory’s stubbornness, a phone ringtone sounds.
Gregory checks his inside pocket, then Williams does the same. Amanda doesn’t bother, nor does Lawrence. When no one owns up, I push out my chair and check in my handbag to find Neil Wallace’s name dancing across my screen.Damn it!He wanted to submit the Dubai proposal on Friday but I left him a voicemail to say I wanted to discuss it with him first.
‘I’ll call him back,’ I say, silencing the call and resuming my position at the table. ‘Sorry about that.’
The others fall back into easy conversation whilst I silently question the steely eyes to my right.
Why can’t we just be happy like everyone else?
