‘What the hell is going on here?’
Their heads whipped around simultaneously. Annabel was standing over them, two tiny fists on her slim hips.
‘Annabel,’ said David, clambering to his feet. ‘It’s not . . . We just fell over is all.’
‘Yes, it looks like it,’ she snapped.
‘I’ll, um, see you later,’ said Amy, smoothing down her dress and walking away.
David turned back to Annabel and found that she was already walking off. ‘Bel!’ he shouted, running after her. ‘Bel, wait!’
He grabbed her arm to spin her around, and as he did, Annabel used the momentum to bring her hand up hard, slapping him across the cheek.
‘Fuck you, David. Fuck you and fuck your townie slut!’
David pressed a hand to his face, actually more stung by her words. He had never heard Annabel swear before.
‘She’s not a slut.’
‘Really? Trying to screw someone else’s boyfriend? What do you call that?’
‘She wasn’t trying anything of the sort! And this isn’t about her, it’s about us.’
Annabel turned to face him, eyes blazing. ‘Don’t you dare try and make this my fault!’
There were tears sparkling on her cheeks, and David immediately felt terrible. Annabel was a snob, she was entitled and condescending, but she wasn’t a terrible person. She was a cross little princess bred for a life in society; a show pony. She didn’t deserve to be hurt like this.
‘Annabel, I’m so sorry, truly,’ he said. He reached for her, but she pushed him away, turning so he couldn’t see her face. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just . . . Maybe I’m not the right guy for you.’
‘I know that!’ she hissed. Her face had twisted, her anger erasing her beauty. ‘Do you really think I’d let you finish with me?’ She barked out a cruel laugh. ‘I didn’t come here to kiss and make up, you arrogant shit. I came here to tell you that I have phoned my father and told him exactly the kind of man you are. There will be no job at the bank, and I doubt anyone else in the City will touch you now either.’
‘Bel, I—’
‘Don’t you ever speak to me again, David Parker. You have made a horrible mistake – no, I made a horrible mistake. You’re welcome to that slag. Actually, she’s about your level.’
David opened his mouth to defend Amy, but closed it again. It was pointless. Annabel had always regarded anyone not in her own narrow little set as somehow low, dirty, untouchable. Nothing he could say would change that.
‘I am sorry, Annabel,’ he said sadly. ‘I really didn’t mean it to end this way.’
She glared at him. ‘Goodbye, David,’ she said.
She turned and walked into the darkness. For a moment, David stared after her, then a chuckle began to build in his throat. By the time she had turned the corner, he was doubled up with laughter.
‘Obviously you need to get laid,’ said Max, splashing more champagne into David’s glass. ‘It’s like the hair of the dog, isn’t it? Shagging some other tart – especially one who looks just like her – is the best cure for getting dumped.’
‘I’d rather stick pins through my knob,’ said David, taking an angry glug of the bubbly. They were sitting hunched over a table in the main bar, by now a bacchanal of half-dressed students dancing on the tables and spurting drinks into the air like dolphins.
‘Oof, don’t even talk about that,’ said Max with a theatrical shudder. ‘Tried it once during my grunge phase. Hurts a lot more than getting your ear pierced.’
David managed a half-smile, but his brief euphoria at being released from his crumbling relationship with Annabel had quickly plunged into depression. Aided by the alcohol in his system, his mood was black: no job, no girl, no future.
‘Come on, old man, it’s not that bad,’ said Max.
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No, in fact it’s good news. One, you get to shag every girl in Chelsea, two, you won’t have to spend valuable weekends choosing wallpaper, and three, you get to shack up with me.’
‘You?’
‘Of course!’ said Max, clearly delighted with his idea. ‘Look, you know I’ve deferred my start at McKinsey until January, but maybe I can spend just three months in Goa rather than six. I’ll be bored by then anyway, seeing as you’re only coming out for two poxy weeks. Anyway you know I’ve already got some digs lined up near the barracks. Very mod – all glass and marble, none of that period rubbish – and plenty of room for you, old boy. I get the en suite, obviously.’ He grasped David’s shoulder and stared into his eyes meaningfully. ‘It’s going to be fucking mental. Just you, me and half of Elite.’
‘Elite?’ asked David, his head beginning to hum. ‘What’s that?’
‘The modelling agency, you sweet moron. All the hottest leggy numbskulls sign up when they’re about sixteen. Was thinking of setting myself up as a photographer, get them in for castings, ply them with booze. Pretty foolproof, don’t you think?’
Not for the first time, David wondered why he and Max were friends.
‘But Max, I don’t have a bloody job any more. I can’t afford to live anywhere, let alone the middle of London.’
‘Not a problem,’ said Max, knocking back a shot and grimacing. ‘My father’s paying the rent at least until those juicy cheques start flowing through. Reckon I can persuade him to cough up for at least twelve months.’ He belched and pointed at David. ‘And don’t worry about the job, either. I’ll introduce you to Rory.’
David shook his head.
‘You remember Rory. Drinks brandy, head like a bullet. Went out with that girl with the red Aston.’ Max was, despite his venal personality, one of those people who collected acquaintances like rare stamps. He was ‘close mates’ with thousands of people. If they were even vaguely rich or influential, he would contrive to bump into them at a bar or social, carefully maintaining the connection, slapping backs, buying drinks, generally being the life and soul. Then, when circumstance made them useful – family had an empty chalet, say – he would pounce. ‘Some people have actual talents,’ he had once confided. ‘I just happen to have brass balls.’ His approach had certainly paid off at Oxford: along with endless party invitations and ins to the most exclusive scenes, he’d even managed to scam his way into a lucrative management consultancy job, even though he was likely to flunk his degree.
‘Maxie, I can’t keep track of all your so-called mates. What did Rory do again? Was he on your course?’
‘Nah, he’s a proper brain, graduated in ’93,’ said Max blithely. ‘Went straight over to Lehman’s on Wall Street, did six months, then jumped ship to Hong Kong. But his brother heads up recruitment for Nicholson James.’
‘The investment bank?’
‘More of a boutique outfit than a big multinational. But they’re good. I reckon he’d take a chance on a loser like you, assuming you cheer up a bit.’
‘Max, I’ve just split up with my girlfriend.’
Max gripped his shoulder. ‘And it’s a tragedy, I feel your pain. But life is not a rehearsal, Dave my boy, and we won’t get another crack at our last ball in Oxford.’ He pressed a glass into David’s hand and pulled him up from the table.
‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Max, but I’m just not in the mood. I’d rather go home.’
Max grabbed his lapels and pulled David’s face close to his. ‘Are you a man or some girlie shirt-lifting ponce?’
‘A man, but—’
Max held up a finger to silence him.
‘Right then, here’s what we’re going to do,’ he said, raising his voice as he steered David out of the tent and onto the now-packed dance floor in front of the stage. ‘We’re going to find ourselves some pissed-up fillies with big tits and we’re going to dance like randy baboons. Here we go!’
He grasped David’s sleeve and thrust him toward
s a pink-faced girl with frizzy hair. ‘David, Helena, Helena, David,’ he shouted. ‘Now let’s dance!’
David looked at the girl and shrugged. For the first song, he gritted his teeth, going through the motions; by the second, he had loosened up enough to clap along. By the middle of the third, when Max appeared with a tray of tequila slammers, he was actually enjoying himself, dipping the frizzy-haired girl and linking hands with one of her friends, a willowy brunette. After that, it all became a blur: a blonde with a drooping flower in her hair, a dark-skinned girl who snogged him then instantly disappeared into the crowd, and a gorgeous ex of Max’s who led them all in a crazed conga line to some Euro-disco classic. After a while, he found himself dancing next to someone he recognised.
‘Karen!’ he cried, pulling her in for a hug. ‘Where have you been hiding?’
‘Just around,’ she shouted above the music. David was aware through his own haze that she was flushed and tottering – hell, who wasn’t at this time of night? – but he was glad to see a familiar face. Cheering as a cheesy singalong belted out of the speakers, he grabbed her and whirled her around, laughing, loving the way she laughed back. Annabel had never laughed. Annabel had never shaken her hair or her ass like that. Annabel had never been any fun. The cheesy pop faded to a slower-paced smoochy number, and David pulled Karen closer, staring into her eyes and striking an ironic flamenco pose. She wrapped herself around him, cheek to sweaty cheek, two drunken tango dancers locked in a deathless embrace. He felt her hips grinding against his, the curve of her breasts hard against his chest. One hand stroked her long neck, the other was on her full arse. She smiled, a lazy, sexy smile, and David could feel the desire rise in him, could feel the heat of hers. They moved together as one, two people with a single purpose, hearts beating together.
‘Let’s go somewhere,’ she shouted in his ear, and David felt himself nodding, taking her hand, leading her through the crowds, out past the bar tent, further into the college, feeling the cold on his skin, hearing the music fade. He turned a corner, ducked into a stone archway, and immediately they were on each other, kissing, their bodies locked together. He ran his lips down that neck, tasting the salt, smelling her. Karen moaned and slid a hand under his jacket, pulled out his shirt, fingers on his back, into his waistband, gripping his arse. Annabel had never done that either. He cupped her breasts, pushed his face into her cleavage. She was so sexy. Why hadn’t he seen it before? He didn’t know, couldn’t think straight; he was so hard he thought he might burst.
‘Here,’ she whispered, her voice hoarse, reaching for his belt, undoing it. ‘Fuck me against the wall.’
Why hadn’t he seen it before? Because he had always been looking at Amy, because Amy was the one he wanted. In that moment it all seemed so clear, like a white light flicking on. He wanted Amy.
‘That’s it,’ Karen gasped, slipping her hand inside his boxers, gripping his hard cock. David groaned, tried to step back, but somehow he was pushing against her instead, thrusting against her hand. Christ, he wanted her. Yes, he wanted Amy, but at that moment, right now, Karen was Amy; they were blurred, like two superimposed images moving in and out of focus.
Karen was wriggling against the wall, pulling her long skirt up and guiding his cock down. ‘Do it, do it now, David.’
David. It was that one word that broke the spell. That wasn’t how Amy said it. When Amy said his name, it was a good thing, like she was happy to see him, to talk to him. Like she was proud of him.
‘No, no,’ he said, trying to pull away.
Karen laughed, her hand still on his cock. ‘I think you mean yes.’
‘No,’ he said, stepping backwards and immediately tripping, his feet catching in the rented trousers tangled around his calves. He came down hard on his bum, pulling Karen down on top of him, her knee catching him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
‘Shit!’ she cried. ‘What the fuck, David?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he gasped, pushing himself backwards, trying to get away. ‘I just can’t, Karen. I’m sorry.’
‘What’s the bloody problem?’ she said. ‘I thought you were into me.’
‘I was . . . I am,’ said David, pushing himself up against the opposite wall and struggling to refasten his trousers. ‘It’s just . . . Amy.’
Her eyes flashed at him. ‘What? What’s Amy got to do with it?’
‘Just don’t tell her about this, okay?’
‘Are you ashamed of me, is that it?’
‘No, no, not at all.’ He shook his head. ‘I just think it’s best if we don’t tell her this happened. It’d hurt her.’
‘Hurt her?’ snapped Karen, clearly annoyed. ‘And what do you care about that?’
David pressed his lips together, took a breath. ‘Of course I care about Amy, Karen. We both do.’
She looked at him for a long moment, then let out a sigh.
‘Sure, whatever you say. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea.’
She awkwardly rearranged her clothes, shuffling to smooth her dress back down, then stepped over and kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘You are sexy, though,’ she smiled.
‘You too. But—’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Amy.’ She pulled a face. ‘Maybe we should agree not to tell anyone where we were.’
David held out a hand. ‘Like a pact.’
She shook it. ‘Our secret, yeah? Something to remember the night by.’
He nodded. ‘Oh I think I’m going to remember this night for a long, long time.’
Chapter 21
Present day
David put his bag down in the hallway and didn’t look at Amy as he took off his coat.
Amy was glad. She didn’t want to talk to him either. It had been awkward enough on the plane journey home – both of them directing all conversation at Tilly, who had loved the attention and hadn’t felt the atmosphere prickle between her parents, even though Amy and David had been acutely aware of it.
But now, away from the check-in queues and the squashed aeroplane seats, where it was easy to put your nose in the in-flight magazine, Amy was going to have to face up to the fact that she didn’t want to be with him in the same room. Didn’t want him to touch her, or come near her. If it wasn’t for Tilly, she’d have checked into a local hotel, but there was no way of getting round this – she would have to go through it.
‘Tills, it’s time for you to go to bed,’ she said, scooping her daughter up in her arms and breathing in her soft smell for just one moment.
‘But I don’t want the holiday to be over,’ said Tilly, wriggling to get free.
Amy almost laughed at the irony of her daughter’s remark. She could feel David looking at her but kept her own gaze fixed away from him.
‘It’s late, honey. Give Daddy a kiss goodnight and I’ll come upstairs and read you a story.’
They were all hot and sticky but Amy couldn’t be bothered putting Tilly in the bath. Instead she took her Frozen pyjamas out of her drawer and told her to brush her teeth. She sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed, feeling momentarily soothed by the surroundings of Tilly’s room: the soft moon-shaped night light over the headboard, the rainbow-coloured pile of soft toys, all of whom had a name and, according to Tilly, a personality, the framed drawings on the walls, the glittery princess costume and pink fleece dressing gown on the back of the door. They were heartbreaking in their innocence, a reminder of the reassuringly happy home they’d had before Josie had come into their lives.
Tilly ran back into the room, a white ring of toothpaste still around her mouth, and climbed under the duvet.
‘Is Josie going to be our nanny now?’ she said, looking at Amy wide-eyed in the low light.
‘No, sweetheart. Claudia is coming back soon.’
‘I like Claudia, but I like Josie too.’
‘Josie was just helping out.’
‘I’m tired,’ said Tilly suddenly.
‘No story?’ said Amy, stroking her forehead.
‘Tomorrow,’ Tilly said, her eyes already wilting.
Amy closed the door and paused at the top of the stairs. For a moment she felt dizzy. It was a long way down and she didn’t want to go. She could hear the gurgling sound of the coffee machine, which meant David wanted to talk. She put one foot in front of the other, knowing that she had to confront him sometime.
He was sitting at the breakfast bar pretending to read a copy of The Economist.
‘That was quick.’
‘She was exhausted.’ Amy took the mug of coffee that was on the worktop.
‘Have you spoken to Claudia yet?’ he said after an awkward pause.
‘A couple of days ago,’ she said, hearing the crispness in her voice. ‘She’s signed off work for another two weeks. I don’t suppose the situation has changed since then, but I can ask.’
David closed his magazine. ‘What are we going to do? I’ve got to go to Hong Kong on Tuesday, and you’ve got the shows.’
‘Hong Kong?’
She didn’t know why she sounded so surprised. David was always flying around the world, meeting overseas teams and investors. Every month at least one of them was away for at least three or four days at a time. On the odd occasions that their work trips overlapped, David’s parents, who lived in Esher, stepped into the breach.
‘I go on Tuesday.’
Amy couldn’t help but feel relieved. ‘How long are you away for?’
‘Five days.’
She nodded. ‘Good. You’ll be back before I go to the States.’
‘So you’re still going? Even with Claudia off.’
‘It’s New York Fashion Week, David. I’ve got to put in an appearance.’
‘Of course you do.’
She wasn’t going to let him get away with it. ‘Do you have to go to Hong Kong?’
‘We’re pitching for a hundred-million-dollar piece of business.’
‘So that’s all right then. In the meantime, it doesn’t matter if I don’t show my face in front of the advertisers who spend hundreds of thousands of pounds with Verve every year.’
Friend of the Family Page 19