‘Mr T?’
‘I named them based on their characters. Mr T is the biggest male and is always picking fights.’
‘Am I supposed to know who Mr T is?’
‘The A-Team.’
‘Who?’
Duncan’s head appeared from behind the curtain. He was wearing a filigree headband, a blue feather boa and enormous clip-on earrings. ‘Jesus, Niamh. Did you spend your entire childhood in the library?’
‘Pretty much,’ Niamh replied as she stepped out of the changing cubicle and Duncan gave a slow whistle.
‘We have to go,’ Erika called down from the top of the stairs.
‘Go where?’ Niamh asked as she spied a pair of silver go-go boots on a high shelf.
‘To meet Charlie.’
‘Who’s Charlie?’ Duncan asked.
‘Charlie is the man who has just offered both Niamh and my wonderful self a summer internship at Lehman’s.’ Her voice was high-pitched, like an excitable child, and she was clapping her hands as she looked over at Niamh expectantly.
‘But I thought . . .’ Duncan didn’t finish his sentence, instead glancing at Niamh, who gave a very swift shake of her head. She had confided in Duncan that Leo had asked her to go travelling with him over the summer, after which Duncan had made Niamh promise to tell Erika sooner rather than later.
‘Don’t just stand there,’ Erika said. ‘We have to go and celebrate. Charlie’s meeting us at six, which means we need to go get ready.’
‘Well, if it’s Charlie we’re meeting then I guess that changes everything.’ Duncan didn’t try to hide the sarcasm in his voice, nor did he fail to notice the droop of Niamh’s shoulders as she went back into the changing cubicle and slipped off the dress.
There’s still time, Niamh thought to herself as she changed back into her own clothes. There’s always more time, she repeated as she followed her friends out of the shop and headed in the direction of Erika’s house.
Or at least that’s what she’d been telling herself ever since she’d agreed to go to the interview that had resulted from Erika applying for a job on her behalf. It wasn’t her dream to become part of the elite; that had always belonged to Erika and, Niamh suspected, Astrid too. Duncan had told Niamh to confess that she didn’t want the job even before she went to the interview. But she hadn’t been able to find the right time. Or rather she had decided there was no point in saying anything and upsetting Erika, because it was doubtful she’d get the job anyway.
Although there was a certain temptation to it, to seeing if she could be part of the elite, even if only for a few weeks. Perhaps it might help her understand a little better about the world in which Leo lived, teach her how to act around his family if ever they were to be introduced. But it all felt so false, like trying on someone else’s clothes, even though you know they won’t fit. Erika wouldn’t change who she was just to please a boy, but she didn’t need to; she already had the perfect life.
‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ Erika asked as she came into the bedroom where Niamh was getting changed.
Niamh looked down at the simple shift dress she’d chosen, paired with platform boots and a beaded jacket.
‘I could always take it off,’ Niamh replied as she slipped the jacket from her shoulders. ‘Turn up stark-bollock naked and give them all something to talk about?’
‘Leave the poor girl alone,’ Duncan said as he hovered in the doorway. His hair was still wet from the shower and he’d changed into jeans and a white shirt. It would seem that even he thought it necessary to blend in sometimes, to not draw unwanted attention.
‘I still think you should wear something else.’ Erika tipped her head upside down and fluffed at her hair.
Niamh thought back to a conversation she’d had with Leo only days before. He’d woken in the middle of the night to find her sitting on the sofa surrounded by pages of notes and several empty cups of coffee. When he’d asked her why she was staying up all night to finish an essay that wasn’t due until Monday, she’d confessed that Erika wanted her to spend the weekend in London.
‘Do you always do everything she tells you?’ he’d said and Niamh had opened her mouth to object, then shut it again, because she knew Leo was right.
‘You know what.’ Niamh sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her boots. ‘You go. Get drunk on champagne with a bunch of wanker bankers. Tell them how incredible you are and that you can’t wait to join their little club.’
Erika flicked back her hair and stared at Niamh. ‘You have to come.’
Niamh took a deep breath, imagining Leo was in the room with her, silently egging her on. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘But I told Charlie you were coming.’
‘Just like you told him I was accepting the job?’
‘Well, yes. But . . .’
‘But nothing. You should have asked, Erika.’ Niamh unzipped her dress and chucked it in on the floor. ‘You never bloody ask. You just bulldoze your way through life assuming that you are the only one who gets to make any of the decisions. But you are not my mother.’
‘No,’ Erika replied. ‘Because I’d never abandon you.’
The silence was painful. Duncan’s eyes darted between the two girls, waiting to see who would react first.
‘Leo was right,’ Niamh said. ‘The two of you push me around, expect me to tag along without ever stopping to ask if I even want to.’
‘You shouldn’t listen to him just because he goes down on you.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Niamh picked up one of her discarded boots and hurled it at Erika, who only just managed to duck out of the way.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re always bloody sorry.’ She picked up the other boot and chucked that one at Duncan.
‘What did I do?’ he said as it flew past his head and landed with barely a sound on the deep-pile carpet.
‘I can’t keep doing this.’ Niamh sank on to the bed and dropped her face into her hands. ‘I’m not a child; I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.’
Erika came to sit next to her and Duncan knelt on the floor at her feet. Niamh didn’t want to look because she knew that if she did, all her resolve, all her anger, would slip away.
‘You don’t need to decide right now,’ Erika said as she tentatively placed a hand on Niamh’s shoulder. ‘But I always tell myself when facing two possible outcomes, to imagine they both go as well as can be, and then choose the one I want more. Simple.’
She was being asked to choose. Leo or Erika. The one thing Niamh had been trying to avoid all along.
‘What happens if you fail?’ Duncan asked.
‘Älskling,’ Erika said with a wink in his direction, ‘I never fail. But if Niamh doesn’t want the internship, that’s fine. I can tell Charlie she’s had a better offer.’
Niamh peered up at her through a curtain of hair, wiping her hand under her nose and sniffing loudly.
‘Although I think it’s a mistake to turn it down. You probably won’t get another opportunity like this. Besides, Leo said he’ll be in London too, so you’ll still get to see him.’
Niamh sat up straight, blinking rapidly as she tried to remember when Leo might have lied to Erika about his summer whereabouts.
‘Leo won’t be in London.’ She knew this because they had spoken about an altogether different kind of adventure, just the two of them, alone for all those days and nights. He’d shown her the outline for a script, told her all the places he wanted to visit, places he’d been to as a boy but wanted to experience anew. It gave her a certain thrill, to be the only person who he showed that side of himself to. But so far, Niamh hadn’t said a word to Erika. She thought it would be far easier to break the news once Erika had secured an internship and Niamh had not.
‘Yes, he will,’ Erika said as she got to her feet and held out a hand to Niamh. ‘He told me he would be working for his father’s firm.’
‘When?’ It was the only word Niamh could come up
with. Because everything else was cloaked by a heavy dollop of jealousy.
‘The other week.’
‘Where?’ Except she already knew where. The Turf Tavern, where Leo had gone to meet a friend for a drink and she had stayed behind to catch up on all the reading he kept distracting her from. A night when he came back to her room bathed in the scent of whiskey, closely followed by the sound of Erika crashing along the landing to her own room. Neither of them had said anything about bumping into one another and she hated not knowing what else they might have chatted about over one too many drinks.
‘Erika,’ Duncan said as he swatted her on the leg. ‘Let her make up her own mind about how she wants to spend the summer, and with whom.’
‘Right. Not my decision. Got it,’ she said as she glanced at her watch then back at Niamh. ‘But at least say you’ll come and get drunk with us? It won’t cost you a penny . . .’
Niamh took a long, slow breath. Nothing happened, she told herself. It was just a coincidence. But had there been any other little secret meetings they had decided not to tell her about? She was being paranoid. They didn’t even like one another. Why then was it impossible not to picture the two of them together, laughing and flirting and slowly edging closer? More importantly, why keep it from her unless they had something to hide? Niamh already knew how good Erika was at keeping secrets; now it seemed Leo was too.
‘Tempting as that might be, I’m shattered. And there is an enormous bath next door that has my name written all over it.’
‘Please?’ Erika dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together in prayer.
‘Go,’ Niamh said with the smallest of smiles. ‘Coerce all those rich bastards out of as many bottles of champagne as you can. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Sleep tight,’ Erika said as she left the room. ‘But no sneaking back to Oxford for some rumpy-pumpy. Promise?’
‘I promise,’ Niamh replied, thinking of how a bath and a whole night alone without having to watch all those men fawn over her beautiful friend was so very, very appealing.
ERIKA
MOONSTONE NECKLACE
London, 2000
The theme is Alice in Wonderland – because isn’t that the theme of every bloody ball I’ve ever attended? There are gilded mirrors and chandeliers hanging in the entrance, where everyone is asked to pose for the obligatory photograph. There is a tunnel fashioned out of bamboo canes, from which oversized cards are hanging, and at the end is a wall of Prosecco, where we are allowed to help ourselves to the first of many. The floor of the main hall is covered in fake patchwork grass, with garlands of flowers suspended over each of the tables, all set with brightly coloured plates. At the far end is a stage, ready and waiting for the band to begin, with a space in front for us to dance.
Seven hundred students and guests, all gathered together in celebration of finishing our exams.
For this auspicious occasion, I have chosen to wear a strapless black dress with a blue crushed velvet coat and newly cropped, peroxide hair. My date for the evening is ensconced in a red satin gown with spaghetti straps, which highlights both the curve of her waist and the golden tones of her skin. Layla is skittish, like a child at Christmas, and changed both her shoes and hairstyle at least three times before we were allowed to leave.
‘Something amazing is going to happen tonight,’ she whispers to me as we arrive in the main hall, just as Britney Spears starts blasting from the sound system and everyone lets out a cheer.
‘If you’re going to start lecturing me on destiny, I’m finding another date.’ I peer through the crowds in search of a familiar face.
‘Don’t be such a philistine,’ Layla says with a gentle punch to my arm. ‘Tell me there’s never been a moment when you’ve just known something epic, something monumentally life changing, was going to happen?’
Luckily for me I don’t have to reply, as bounding towards us is a girl wearing a gold-sequined dress that makes her look like a cross between an Oscar statuette and a mermaid.
‘Isn’t this awesome?’ Michelle says. She is clutching a miniature bottle of Prosecco and drinking it through a straw so as not to ruin her perfectly applied pout.
‘Do you know where we’re sitting?’ Layla asks, shouting over the music with an overenthusiastic grin on her face.
Michelle takes her by the hand, then Layla does the same to me, and together we weave through the crowd, acutely aware of the heads turning to watch us go.
It seems hard to believe that three years have disappeared before I’ve had a chance to blink. I never thought I’d be able to find another group of friends, let alone people who would accept me and enrich my life without me even realising. There have been study partners, jogging partners, friends and lovers all rolled into a bubble of denial. Because everyone will disperse after tonight, focus on their careers, meet someone, settle down. The circle is bound to shrink so that in time I will probably only be in touch with a handful of the people who I have become accustomed to seeing pretty much every day.
Hector isn’t here, which is both a blessing and a curse because I do so want to see him before I leave for New York. Even though I know he won’t want to see me. Breaking up is always so very hard to do, even more so when I couldn’t give him the real reason why.
Michelle has been providing me with regular feedback as to his state of mind. At the last report Hector is still back home, drowning his sorrows, taking long walks with the dogs and pretending to write the next great love story. Apparently it’s all about a Swedish girl who stole, then broke, his heart. Wonder who that’s based on? I think she’s telling me how miserable he is in the hope that I might change my mind. Hop on a train and run to him with open arms. What I can’t tell her, just as I can’t tell him or anyone, is why I don’t deserve the happily ever after he was offering me.
Instead, I told him it wasn’t the right time. That it was me, not him. All the usual clichés that did nothing to dispel the level of despair he showed me when I tried to give back the snow globe he bought me when we visited Edinburgh Castle. I’ve never seen a man cry before. Well, apart from Duncan, but he once cried at a bloody Oxo advert, so he doesn’t count.
It’s probably best that Hector’s not here, even though I allowed myself to imagine this night with him all handsome and delicious in black tie, spinning me around the dance floor and kissing me without regret.
Everything about tonight is so different to how I imagined it would be. But then I also used to picture the three of us outside the examination halls, dressed in subfusc, each wearing a red carnation in our buttonhole and dodging out of the way as flour and champagne was ceremoniously dumped over all the finalists (although there was once an octopus, according to Duncan’s legendary tale).
A waiter appears with our food, setting down a plate in front of Michelle. ‘What’s this?’ she asks as she taps at the miniature pie with her fork.
‘Bouchées à la Reine,’ a boy with spiked hair and oversized glasses says. ‘I’ll have it if you don’t want it.’
‘Hands off, Piers,’ Michelle says, flicking him with her finger and pulling her plate closer. ‘I’m starving.’
I sat next to Piers on the morning of our first lecture because he was reading a copy of A Room of One’s Own. In itself, this wasn’t anything unusual, but considering we were both signed up to an economics degree, it made me curious, made me want to know more about the boy who still reminds me of someone I used to know.
It hits me then, the fact I will never again see him, or any of my friends, in the same context. From this very moment on everything about our lives, our friendships, is going to change and there is no way of stopping it, of going back and living it all over again.
‘To the end of an era,’ Piers says as he raises his glass and everyone around the table follows with a series of whoops and cheers.
‘Are you nervous?’ Michelle says through a mouthful of chicken vol-au-vent.
‘Of what?’ I reply, picking out the
sweetcorn from her pie and adding it to my plate.
‘New York.’
‘She’s not afraid of anything.’ Layla drapes her arm around my shoulder, pouting for the digital camera that Piers is using to document the evening.
‘Everyone’s afraid of something,’ he says, checking the screen then pointing the lens at Michelle.
‘Snakes!’ Michelle shouts as she points across the table at me. ‘Oh no, wait, that’s Hector. I had a pet snake when I was little. I fed it mice but Hector was terrified when I put it in the bath every week for a swim.’
‘He’s only taken showers ever since.’ I smile at the memory of one night when Hector stayed over at mine and I said I wanted a soak in the bath. He visibly blanched, then confessed his childhood fear whilst pulling me into the shower and proceeding to rub bubbles into my skin.
‘I still cannot believe you broke up with him.’ Michelle reaches forward for a second bread roll. ‘Surely the lure of having me as a sister-in-law is enough to make you stay?’
‘I didn’t realise you were such a hopeless romantic,’ I say, pushing all images of Hector away.
‘I just want someone to share my life with. Isn’t that what we all want, deep down?’
‘Cats,’ Piers says as he drains his glass.
‘What about them?’ I ask.
‘I hate them. Evil creatures. And rabbits. They’re way too cute and fluffy not to be dangerous.’
‘That’s just weird.’ Layla is sitting next to me, but she’s not really paying attention to the rather strange conversation that’s developing. Instead she keeps curling a strand of hair around one finger and looking at someone on the other side of the room.
‘Fish!’ Michelle springs to her feet and runs around to give me a wet kiss on the cheek. ‘You have a funny thing about fish.’
I can’t help but shudder. ‘It’s their eyes, just staring back at you from the plate and whispering murderer.’
‘You made Hector cut off the head when we were in that restaurant back home. Dad thought it was hilarious.’
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