Chapter Thirty-Five
Three Corpse Revivers later
It’s been a week now. I’ve only got dressed twice, preferring to wear Devon’sTeletubbiesonesie that I found in the back of her wardrobe. To be honest I thought better of her, although I’m not sure why, as we’ve never met. At around six p.m., I’m contemplating going over my overdraft limit to Deliveroo a bottle of Gavi and some Pringles, just to see me through the end ofThe Good Place, when the buzzer goes.
‘Erica?’ says a woman’s voice through the intercom.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Cassia, sweetie. Can I come up?’
What the hell? I assume this must be an apology. It didn’t need to be in person though. My first thought is theTeletubbiesonesie but I suppose the last time we spoke I had an omelette stuck to my face so this could even be an improvement. I let her in without saying anything.
While she’s in the lift – or possibly on the stairs knowing Cassia (#everydayfitness) – I lean on the hall wall. I can’t really be bothered with this. I don’t care whether she’s sorry or not, and if she’s come for any other reason, like to have a go at me for not being positive enough about ageing or something, then I don’t have the emotional energy. I wish Nandy was here. She’d know what to say. And then I see Cassia coming along the corridor, with greying hair in a ponytail, glasses, a hoodie and jeans. She looks like any other middle-aged woman as she walks past me into the flat.
I guide her into the living room area with a wave of my hand. She doesn’t comment on my onesie, or anything else for thatmatter, but sits down on the ottoman, handbag on her knee. ‘Sorry to turn up unannounced, Erica.’
I nod. I’m not saying it’s okay because it’s not. ‘What the hell do you want, Cassia? You can’t just march in here like this.’
‘I want to help.’
‘Help?’ I sit down on the couch opposite her. ‘I haven’t really been getting that from you, what with starting the whole#whereswultything and revealing my identity to the press? And your reel the other day telling everyone what a terrible person I am?’
‘What makes you think it was me that told the press? And did you even watch my reel the other day?’
‘Well, no, but…’
‘Oh Erica.’ She shakes her head and looks around the room for the first time. ‘You really don’t think things through, do you?’
I don’t know what she means specifically, and it comes across as quite patronising, but in general, I agree. So, I nod, then realise shaking my head is the correct answer, so do that instead.
‘I didn’t go to the press. Merlyn did. And my reel was all about the pressures women face trying to look young, and how I get why you had the treatment. I mean, I also said I hoped you’d reverse it, but I was on your side. Iamon your side. So is she.’
‘WHAT? Why would Merlyn go to the press? And what have you got to do with any of this anyway? The whole thing is really none of your business.’ I suddenly feel like I’m a pawn in a game of chess that I can’t even play (which I genuinely can’t – I did watchThe Queen’s Gambitthough and loved the costumes).
Cassia doesn’t reply but gets up and walks over to the kitchen area. ‘If you’re not going to offer me a drink, sweetie, I’ll make one,’ she says, opening Devon’s cupboards until she finds the one with alcohol in.
I hear her clattering about, and I’m about to tell her to get out of the kitchen – and indeed the flat – when I realise how much I need a drink. And to find out what’s going on, for that matter.
Cassia walks back over and hands me a cocktail glass with a pale yellow-orange liquid in. ‘Just the thing for you – a Corpse Reviver.’
I overlook the veiled insult and take a sip. It’s strong and delicious. Then I think about Merlyn, and how she didn’t look disappointed in her office that day when I told her about wanting to reverse WULT®.
‘Did Merlynwantme to get the treatment reversed?’
‘Of course,’ says Cassia.
‘Why “of course”? What the hell? I don’t get it – she was the one who suggested it to me in the first place?’
‘True, yes, she also wanted you tohavethe WULT® treatment, but not for the reasons you might think.’
‘What would be the other reason for having it, apart from the obvious one?’
‘She wanted you to have it, and enjoy it – then…’
‘Then what?’
Cassia sighs, as if bracing herself to deliver the words. ‘Then… regret it.’
