‘Is that something else you learned on TikTok?’ I asked, my burning rage simmering down into soothing, warming love for her.
‘TikTok is free, therapy is expensive,’ she replied. ‘You might laugh, but positive affirmations could do you the world of good. Shake out all that negative self-talk you’re still carrying around and don’t say you’re not because you totally are. I can see it in your aura.’
‘That’s not negative self-talk, it’s called being British.’ I pulled my feet up underneath me and curled into the cushions as her phone trilled with a text.
‘Pizza’s ready,’ she announced. ‘Shall I tell Ren to bring it here?’
God, no, I thought to myself.
‘God, no,’ I said out loud.
I didn’t realize the same words that had gone through my head had come out of my mouth until I saw the look on Bel’s face.
‘I mean I’m really tired,’ I added. ‘Can you tell Ren I’m not feeling well or something?’
‘Sure thing.’ She rose to her feet, slipping her phoneinto the waistband of her leggings. ‘You want me to come by later, bring you a slice?’
‘There’s loads of food in the fridge, I’ll find something. You don’t have to worry about me.’
‘I think you’ll find I do. We’re friends, remember?’ Bel sang as she sailed out of the room towards the front door. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, don’t forget to hydrate!’
Friends. A real, proper, genuine friend.
Wow. It had been a while.
The door closed behind her and my eyelids slipped shut. Between the exercise and the emotional upheaval, I was completely done for.
I pulled a blanket off the back of the settee and draped it over my legs, resting my head on the soft cushion I’d been cradling. A quick nap couldn’t hurt. If I closed my eyes for a minute, I’d be refreshed and renewed and ready to do something productive with the rest of my afternoon.
Before I could even finish my thought, I was fast asleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘The party will be on Friday,’ Myrna announced the moment I walked through her door the next morning. ‘And your attendance is mandatory.’
‘How are we going to plan a party in four days?’ I asked, a shimmer of excitement washing over me. I really did love a project. I could get lost in a project. ‘Isn’t there a lot to do?’
‘Oh yes.’ She rattled the backs of my legs with her walking stick, driving me into the sitting room like an errant sheep. ‘Endless arrangements to be made. Invitations to send, catering to organize, decorations to plan, and none of it is getting any closer to being done with you stood in the middle of the room and staring at me like you’ve never seen a woman in a vintage Chanel suit before.’
‘Probably because I haven’t,’ I replied. ‘It’s lovely.’
She pinched at the black and white material of her tweedy two-piece, the classic boxy jacket and demure knee-length skirt tailored to her precise measurements.I was sure it would spontaneously combust if anyone else even tried it on. Her make-up was flawlessly applied and white bob professionally set. Myrna looked like what she was, Hollywood royalty.
‘A Chanel suit is what one wears when one wants to be taken seriously,’ she said. ‘Or it used to be. Perhaps they sell them to anyone these days. I recall the time I saw Jayne Mansfield in the atelier in Paris and they wouldn’t even let her try one on. As Wally used to say, she had too much bosom for her own good and they’re hideously unflattering to anyone with curves, but I always did have the hips of a twelve-year-old boy.’
‘There’s always a silver lining,’ I said as she ran a gloved hand over her slender silhouette.
Despite my plans, to do something, anything productive with the rest of my Monday, I somehow managed to sleep all the way through to Tuesday morning. I could almost feel Gran smoothing my hair down and telling me I must have needed it and truly, I did. When I woke up, I deleted the unwelcome texts, blocked the new number and felt a thousand times better. Airing out my anxieties had made them more manageable. I told someone my story and lived to tell the tale, and what’s more, she hadn’t turned away. Rather, Bel had messaged, offering to come over when she’d finished walking half the dogs in Beverly Hills but that wouldn’t be until much later in the day, and Suzanne left a voice note, claiming she was finally returning to LA the following afternoon, which I would believe when I saw her sitting on the sofa. Helping plan a little party, running to the supermarket for chips and dips, a few bottles of wine and someplastic glasses was very appealing, a welcome distraction to take my mind off, well, everything.
But Myrna, it seemed, had other ideas.
‘Is this a bad time?’ I asked when she slipped her feet into a pair of black patent heels. Sensible heels but heels all the same. ‘I thought your note said ten thirty but if you’re going somewhere, I can come back later.’
She reached for a rectangular black leather handbag with a long silver chain and hung it carefully from her shoulder without breaking eye contact with the mirror. ‘I’mnot going anywhere. We are. Follow me.’
Giving herself a satisfied nod, she marched out into the hall with me close behind, moving faster than was reasonable for an octogenarian in heels using a cane. Either she’d had a very large coffee or an even larger infusion of stem cells, and it was impossible to say which was more likely.
‘I can help with the party,’ I offered, scooting after her. ‘I’m good at organizing things.’
