“There are no more details.”
“How did you end up sat between his legs. That’s a bit more than friends to start with, isn’t it?” Erin said, looking at the waiter who was hanging around to take our order.
I wonder what stories he heard during the course of a working day.
We ordered, asked for more champagne, then it was back over to me to answer the question.
“We’d done loads of walking and I was tired and leaning against him, so he instigated shifting us so I could lie back. I think I knew it was a more than friends thing but it was one of those nice days where you can get swept away.” I loved the memory of it. It had been so innocent and so grown-up at the same time. Carter had been ridiculously good looking – even my mum had commented on how handsome he’d grown – and I knew I had a crush on him, I think all of us had, maybe.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Fallon actually sounded hurt.
“Because there was nothing to tell and you’d have persuaded me to do something else, like try and seduce him or equally odd and it would’ve wrecked everything.” And it had been my memory which I hadn’t wanted to share. Mine and Carter’s.
“Rose, we’ve never been able to persuade you to do anything. I wish you’d told us – and he never said anything either. I really thought he’d have told me.” Fallon looked thoughtful.
“He’d have known that whatever he said to you would’ve come back to me,” I said, sipping at my glass of champagne, enjoying the bubbles. “He’s not stupid.”
“Fair,” Fallon acknowledged. “He was also always closer to you than any of us.”
“Because he lived in my house.”
“I used to think he fancied you.” Erin had almost finished her glass. “He’d smile at you every time he saw you. I don’t think he really noticed if the rest of us were there or not.”
“You all got on well with him though, didn’t you?” I’d never known them not get along with Carter.
“He came with rugby playing mates, so I was happy.” Fallon, of course. “But yes, we all got on. I’m surprised at him not telling you more about Laurie. Because there’s something more there – especially he’s said that he’s single but not available. I’d never thought Carter could be cryptic. Anyway, have I told you about the Hell’s Angel I met on Wednesday?”
I figured Fallon did it on purpose, redirecting the conversation to give me a break from being grilled, and the others followed her lead. It was a brief respite, because my mind wasn’t letting me come away from analysing everything, something I was good at, only it wasn’t that easy when you were emotionally invested.
CHAPTER 9
Rose
It was still dark when I woke up on Saturday morning, the unfamiliarity of the hotel room startling me as I came to. We hadn’t been up late the night before. Erin and Fallon had been up late on Thursday, both doing something to do with work, and I’d not been sleeping well – my main tell that something wasn’t right.
Today we were helping Harriet explore, something I was keen to do because it’d been years since I’d come to Stratford-Upon-Avon, having been once with school and once once to see a play at the RSC directed by my dad's cousin Maven. We left the hotel and headed for breakfast at the other end of the high street, which was busy already. The talk was about the town, what we’d noticed so far,whowe’d noticed so far – because Fallon was determined that Harriet would have a neat and tidy dirty fling as soon as she moved in so she could move on from the man whose name should not be mentioned.
It was easy to imagine how Stratford had been four hundred or so years ago, when Shakespeare and his wife were knocking about on the cobbles. We decided to visit Shakespeare’s birthplace after breakfast, listening to the guides give more detail on the family and what life would’ve been like.Tourists gathered everywhere, taking photos and selfies, buying souvenirs which we also did, even Harriet.
We had tickets for a matinee production at The Swan, a performance of Measure for Measure which I’d studied in an elective at university, which meant the trip down the river would be put on hold until Sunday morning before we went to see Harriet’s new house.
I bought a magnet for my parents that said ‘Let’s kill all the Lawyers’, a quote from Henry IV Part II rather than an actual threat, and found some daft stuff for my siblings, which I tucked into my oversized bag and we headed off to a pizza place for lunch and alcohol, which Fallon was saying she was going to need to get her through the play (it was one of her least favourites).
For some reason, since being fully-fledged adults, we’d developed an interest in Shakespeare productions. It had started with Harriet wanting to go and see a production of Richard II and not wanting to go by herself. She’d asked each of us individually to go with her, telling us that the others were busy and totally putting on a pity party, so we’d all said yes. Which meant the four of us had gone together and we’d enjoyed it, even if Harriet had needed to give us the revision guide at the interval. Since then it had become a thing.
“Is Sam Mercer in this?” Fallon squinted at the poster advertising the production that we were just passing.
“He is,” Harriet said. “It was a sell-out.”
“So how did you manage to get tickets?” I asked, because I’d read that they’d sold out ages ago, as soon as they’d been released.
“My new employer got them – she knows someone who knows someone, so they were a gift. I wasn’t sure what we’d be doing this evening so I said the matinee would be great. I thinkI’m going to enjoy living here.” Her face had lit up at the sight of the theatre, the river close by.
“I think you will,” I said, linking my arm through hers. “I’ll like coming to visit.”
“Good. That was the plan.”
We came, we watched, we ate food and drank cocktails and commented on just how attractive Sam Mercer was and how we’d been unable to tell that he had a strong Scottish accent. Harriet fangirled over him, drooling over her programme when we found a restaurant with a table and a cocktail list, and then obsessively found out every detail that the internet had to offer.
