He sounded harsh. Bitter. Unlike himself.
‘Happy relationship?’ Rachel asked, risking a raised eyebrow.
‘Youwerehappy that night,’ Tom said. ‘We both were until we started bickering about the person we’re bickering about right now.’
‘Touché,’ Rachel admitted.
‘And I’m assuming you haven’t told him I’m a shit boyfriend – I mean, presumably that wouldn’t serve your carefully considered agenda.’
‘Of course I wouldn’t say that. You’re lovely, which is exactly what I’ve told him – and which he absolutely hates.’
Tom shook his head at her, but his lips had loosened, no longer frozen in an angry line.
‘So what’s your plan, then?’ he asked. ‘How are you going to get out of this? Do you need me to dump you?’
‘What?’ Rachel cried.
‘If I dump you, you won’t need to admit to anyone that we aren’t together.’
‘True. I hadn’t even thought of that … But then you couldn’t come out for my birthday, which would be rubbish – you don’t turn up for the birthday party of someone you’ve just chucked. And … I want you there. It’d be shit without you. If you’re not with me, who’ll help to get Anna and Will off the karaoke stage when they want to sing the full nine-minute version of “Bat Out of Hell”?’
‘Fine, fine, I won’t dump you,’ Tom said, unable to resist laughing at the promise of Anna and Will’s performance – a party piece he and Rachel had seen several times before.
‘However, this leaves us with only two options.’
‘Which are?’ Rachel asked.
‘You confess the truth to Jack, or you and I have topretendto be an item on the night of your birthday party.’
‘You’d do that?’ Rachel’s eyes were huge. Hopeful.
‘Apparently,’ Tom grumbled. ‘Even though it’s stupid, juvenile and bound to backfire.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. I mean, you’ve obviously lost the plot, but I can’t bear to think of you telling anyone – let alonehim– that you’ve faked having a boyfriend, made it all up. He’d use your humiliation as a springboard for his next sexual advance.’
In the privacy of her own head, Rachel agreed with him.
‘You’re not made-up,’ she argued, pushing the thought of Jack to one side and waving a finger at Tom. ‘You’re right there.’
Tom rolled his eyes at her pedantry. ‘I will be your not-invented-but-fake boyfriend on your birthday. For one night only. But, Rach, this is a standalone performance. I won’t come out of retirement after this – so no more lies.’
‘I promise,’ she said as Anna waved at her to hurry up and start the short walk home. ‘As soon as my birthday party’s over, I’ll find a way to end the charade. And, Tom? Thank you.’
He nodded at her wearily, his arms limp and hanging at his sides. ‘Don’t mention it.’
He threw her a weak, joyless smile before he shouted goodbye to Anna and Will, then turned and headed home.
26
On Saturday evening a fortnight later, Rachel and Anna were walking through Clerkenwell towards the venue for Rachel’s birthday party. They’d both dressed up for the occasion, Anna in a leather miniskirt and Rachel in heels, black skinny jeans and a vintage chiffon blouse the colour of Parma violets.
‘That shade makes your hair lookinsanelyred,’ Anna had said approvingly before they left the flat, insisting that Rachel amp up the drama by donning a darker shade of lipstick than she’d usually wear.
Rachel had complied, and Anna was right – she looked good. She should befeelinggood too, but the absurdity of what she and Tom were about to do wouldn’t leave her alone; it was buzzing around her head like a wasp, determined to sting her before it deigned to fly away.
Also, she hadn’t yet confessed to Anna that this evening was the stage for a fauxmance of the kind you’d usually see in a made-for-TV movie. But they were almost at the piano bar, and she was going to have to warn her friend what was coming before they went in.
