by Lisa Jewell
“Kraken will do. But you should totally get some Mount Gay. It’s, like, the best.”
She sounds so posh, Tallulah thinks. So entitled. It’s almost impossible to imagine her as she is when the two of them are alone together.
“Christ,” says Zach. “Listen to them. Who do they think they are?” He impersonates Scarlett under his breath, “It’s, like, the best.”
Tallulah nods and says, “Yeah. I know. They’re really annoying.” Then she draws in her breath and says, “They go to my college. They’re all studying art. I think some of them used to go to Maypole House.”
“That figures,” he says. Then he gets to his feet and says, “I’m going to order. Want anything else to drink?”
She taps her fingernails against her champagne flute and says, “I’m good with this, thank you.”
He throws her an indulgent smile and then she holds her breath as he approaches the bar. He is standing inches from Scarlett, who has her back to him as she touches her debit card to the screen of a card reader. She waits for the receipt to roll out and then takes it from the barman. “Thank you,” she says. Then she picks up her drink and turns, and now she is face-to-face with Zach, and Tallulah can barely breathe.
“Sorry,” she hears him say, bobbing to his right to let her pass.
Tallulah sees her smile tightly at him and hears her say, “No worries.”
As she passes Tallulah’s table on her way back outside, Scarlett stares meaningfully at her. She touches her breastbone with a fist and blinks. Tallulah nods and then looks away. Adrenaline is pulsing through every part of her. She swallows down some champagne to distract herself from the horrible sensation of her heart pounding beneath her rib cage. Her phone buzzes. It’s Scarlett.
You OK?
No, she replies. I feel sick.
You can do this. I’m here.
Tallulah types in a love heart and sends it, then places her phone under the menu so that she can’t look at it.
Zach returns and takes his seat. “That’s the girl, isn’t it? From your selfie?”
She arranges her face into an expression of confusion, but she can tell it’s unconvincing. “Which girl?”
“The one with scraggy hair. Who was going on about rum. The one I saw you at the bus stop with that time.”
“Oh,” she replies lightly. “Yes. That’s Scarlett.”
“How come she didn’t come and say hello?”
She shrugs. “Maybe she didn’t see me.”
He takes the champagne bottle from the bucket and tops them both up. Tallulah can tell that the atmosphere has already soured slightly, that a cloud has drifted across Zach’s burning sun of optimism.
“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe.”
They chat for a while about Noah, about Zach’s sister who’s just fallen pregnant with her first child and thinks she might be having twins, but it feels to Tallulah that she is doing all the work, that Zach is elsewhere, and she knows where he is. He’s inside his head chewing over his brief exchange with Scarlett. Zach is very perceptive and he will have picked up on her energy, and now he will be picking up on Tallulah’s energy and he will know that something is not quite right but he will have no idea what it is.
Their food arrives and it is quite a spectacle: a white platter laid upon a brass stand and strewn with shiny necklaces of samphire and ruby-red pomegranate seeds.
They both say wow and grab cutlery out of a pot on the table, and then begin to dismantle the platter, but Tallulah has no appetite and takes an inordinate amount of time to unpeel a prawn.
“Are you OK?” asks Zach.
“Yes,” she says. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not really eating much.”
“It’s just a bit fiddly.”
“Eat some chips.” He tips a pot of massive, oily-looking chips toward her and she takes a few.
“More,” he says. And that edge is back in his voice. It is not a suggestion, but a demand. She takes a couple more and he places the chips back on the table.
Her phone vibrates and she angles it toward her to look at it. It’s Scarlett again. She sees the first few words of the message but doesn’t open it: Do you need me? I can…
Zach throws her a questioning look.
“Mum again.”
“Oh yes,” he says. “What does she want?”
“Just asking if we were having a nice time?”
“And?” he says. “Are we?”
The question is loaded and she waits a beat to reply. “Yes,” she says. “We’re having a lovely time.” And she puts out her champagne glass to his and says, “Cheers.”
She can feel the night crumbling. She can tell that small talk has become impossible and that they will either sit here in silence or they will talk about them and either outcome will ruin the evening. So she hands him a prawn and says, “Go on. Peel it for me, will you? I’m too lazy,” and she hits him with the best smile she can muster. He rolls his eyes affectionately and takes it from her and for a moment it feels as if the cordial atmosphere might have been restored. But then her phone buzzes again and he tuts and says, “Fuck’s sake.”
“Probably my mum, because I didn’t reply to her last one.”
“Well, go on, then,” he says crossly, wrenching the head off the prawn.
She switches on her screen and clicks on Scarlett’s message. Then she types in quickly: He’s in a bad mood. I don’t think it’s going to happen.
Scarlett replies: Plan B?
Tallulah takes a deep breath and types back: Yes. Plan B.
PART FOUR
52
JUNE 2017
Scarlett strides into the bar, trying and failing to look natural and nonchalant. She stares hard at Tallulah, and Zach glances at her, then does a double take before looking at Tallulah, and she sees something fall into place.
He turns to her and says, “What’s going on?”
“What?”
“You and that girl?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Nothing.”
Scarlett is heading toward them. She pulls across a chair from another table, sits down, sticks a chip into a dish of mayonnaise, and eats it. “Hi, Lula,” she says. “How are you?”
Tallulah nods and says, “I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t say hello earlier. You were with all your friends and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Scarlett replies breezily, picking up another chip and sticking it back in the mayonnaise. “I understand. Anyway…” She waves her hand across the display of seafood and the champagne bucket. “Special occasion?”
“No,” says Tallulah, “not really. We just haven’t been out for a while.”
“Ah, that’s nice.” She picks up a third chip and puts it to her nose. “Is this one truffled?” she asks. Zach nods stiffly and Scarlett says, “Nice,” before eating it. “I didn’t quite catch your name?” she says to Zach.
“It’s Zach.” His face is brittle with rage.
Scarlett is acting cool, but Tallulah can see the manic energy pumping through her.
“You know Tallulah from college?” Zach says.
“That is correct. Lovely, lovely Tallulah.”
“She never talks about you.”
“How rude!” Scarlett mocks affront and grabs another truffle chip.
“She’s got a photo of you on her phone, though.”
“Uh-oh,” says Scarlett, widening her eyes. “Stalker alert.”
“It’s just that selfie, from the Christmas party. That’s all.”
“What selfie?”
“You don’t remember taking it?” asks Zach.
“I can’t say that I do, but then, I was off my face at the time. Anyway,” she says, “I don’t want to disturb you two while you’re having such a gorgeous romantic evening. Lovely to see you, Lula. Lovely to meet you, Zach.”
“No,” says Tallulah. “Stay.”
“Oh.” She beams at Tallulah. “OK, then.”
Zach looks as though he is
about to say something, but then Mimi walks in, scanning the pub for Scarlett. “Oh,” she says. “There you are. We were wondering where you’d got to.”
“Sorry,” says Scarlett, “I got sidetracked into eating all of Tallulah and her boyfriend’s delicious chips. Why don’t you join us?”
Within a few more minutes, Scarlett’s whole crew is squashed around the table and all the chips are gone and all the prawns are gone and someone has gone to the bar and come back with a round of tequila shots, and Jayden and Liam have cornered Zach into an intense conversation about football, and Tallulah is talking to Scarlett and Ruby and Mimi about weird teachers at college. A waiter appears and reaches through them to collect the empty plates and bowls and asks them if they want anything else to eat and someone orders a sticky toffee pudding and someone else orders more chips and Tallulah has no idea who is paying for what or what exactly is happening, but it feels strangely like something, somewhere is on fire and it’s already too late to put it out.
More tequila shots arrive as well as the extra chips and the sticky toffee pudding, which is served with six spoons, and Jayden gets a message on his phone and says, “He’s outside. I’ll be right back,” and everyone seems to know what he’s talking about and a couple of people pass him ten-pound notes from their wallets and a moment later he returns and passes pills to his friends under the table.
Tallulah watches Zach’s reaction and is amazed to see him take a pill from Jayden and swallow it down with warm champagne. Zach has never taken drugs before, as far as she’s aware, apart from smoking a little weed with his older sister in the back garden when she still lived at home. She gazes at him, trying to catch his eye, but he studiously ignores her, and Tallulah realizes that rather than trying to fight this situation that she and Scarlett have deliberately engineered, he is on some kind of mission. A mission to unnerve her, to undermine her, to catch her out somehow. He hates these kids, she knows he hates them, yet he’s sucking up to them and laughing at their jokes and taking their drugs.
She feels something touch her hand under the table and looks up to find Scarlett looking at her. “I broke one in half for you,” she says. “Want to share?”
Tallulah shakes her head.
“A quarter?”
Tallulah blinks and says, “Maybe later.”
Scarlett passes her the tiny chunk and she clasps it inside her fist.
The night has transmogrified into something alien and electric. She is being played from both sides, by Zach and by Scarlett. Meanwhile, the muscles of her heart ache for Noah, lying now, she assumes, at nearly 10:00 p.m., sleeping in his cot, his hands furled into fists, his hair damp from the heat of his bedtime bath and warm milk and the hot summer night air through the open window.
Once again she feels Scarlett’s hand under the table, cupping her bare leg, a finger sliding up toward the hem of her cutoff shorts, and she gasps and jumps very slightly.
She gets to her feet. “You know,” she says, “it’s getting late. I should probably get back.” She doesn’t want this to happen anymore. She’s changed her mind. She wants to go home with Zach, tiptoe upstairs, and stand with him staring at their baby together, talking in almost silent whispers about how beautiful he is and how lucky they are to have him. They can split up another day. Not today. Not now.
“No,” says Scarlett, pulling her down by her arm. She fixes her with a terrifying stare and says, “Stay, please stay. Just have one more drink. OK?”
Tallulah sighs and someone brings her another tequila, which she duly downs. She’s about to try to leave again when someone else arrives at their table. It’s a slightly older woman whom she vaguely recognizes from around the village, and upon her arrival Scarlett screeches, “Lexie!”; she hugs the woman to her and says to Tallulah, “Lexie is Kerryanne’s daughter. You know, the matron at the Maypole. Not only has Lexie got the best mum in the world, she also has the best job in the world. Tell Tallulah what you do, Lex.”
Lexie rolls her eyes good-naturedly and says, “I’m a travel blogger.”
“Yeah,” says Scarlett, “but not some fake-arse travel blogger who tries to blag freebies at hotels. Like a proper blogger. With thousands of followers on Instagram and a stupidly jet-set lifestyle. Where did you just get back from?”
“Peru.”
“Peru. Fuck’s sake. That is so cool it’s ridiculous.”
Stuck now in a conversation with Scarlett and Lexie, Tallulah gives in and has another shot of tequila when it’s offered to her and uses it to swallow down the chunk of pill she still held in her hand. The bell is rung at the bar for last orders and Scarlett gets to her feet. “Anyone for a pool party?” she says loudly.
Tallulah looks at Zach and Zach looks at Tallulah, a look filled with bad intentions. He says, “Count me in.” His pupils are dilated and he’s smiling. “Come on, Tallulah,” he says to her across the table, “we’re going to a pool party.”
53
SEPTEMBER 2018
Sophie stands at the front door of the cottage, her hands clasped in front of her, her hair neatly combed, her teeth freshly brushed to take away the scent of Liam’s beer. Pippa crunches across the gravel pathway holding a twin’s hand in each of hers, each twin towing a small wheely case behind them.
“Hello, hello, hello!” says Sophie. “Welcome!”
It’s 6:00 p.m. and Shaun is running late at school and has called Sophie in a frazzle of anxious apologies to ask her to be there when they arrived. She’d held back a long, deep sigh and said, “Of course, of course, no problem.”
“I’ll try and be there as quickly as I can. I promise.”
“It’s fine,” she’d said. “Just do what you have to do.”
“Thank you, darling,” he replied. And she’d started, because he’d never called her darling before. He always called her Sophes. Or baby. Darling seemed to her like something you called a wife you’d run out of genuine enthusiasm for. Darling was what her friends’ parents called each other. Darling was old.
She moves toward Pippa and the children and leans down to hug them to her. They are both in Gap hoodies: Jack’s is green, Lily’s is baby pink. They hug her back hard and she feels a sense of relief because it’s been so long since she’s seen them and she’d been scared they might have forgotten that they like her.
“Come in,” she says. “Come in.”
“Is this really Daddy’s house?” asks Jack.
“Well, sort of,” Sophie says, holding the door for them to troop through. “It really belongs to the school. But they lend it to the head teacher for when they’re working here.”
“So does Daddy still have his other house in London?” asks Lily, wheeling her pink Trunki down the flagstones and toward the kitchen.
“Yes. Daddy still has his other house and I still have my flat. We’re just borrowing this cottage for a while.”
“It’s nice,” says Jack, who likes most things.
“It looks a bit spidery,” says Lily, who always finds something to mention.
“I promise you,” says Sophie, straightening their suitcases for them, “that I have cleaned every last inch of this cottage and there is not one solitary tiny weeny creature anywhere in it.”
“I don’t mind other creatures,” says Lily. “I just don’t like spiders. What’s that smell?”
“What smell?”
“Like a burned smell.”
“Oh God, I don’t know. I thought I’d managed to get rid of it. I must have got used to it. Sorry. It’s just an old house, I suppose.” She turns to Pippa. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”
Pippa heaves a travel-weary sigh. “No,” she says. “No. Very kind. But I’m expected for dinner in N5 at eight thirty. I’m only just going to make it as it is. I must say, I’m not sure how tenable this is going to be as an ongoing thing. I mean, if Shaun can’t even make it back to a house that’s actually in the same place as his school on time, how on earth is he going to get these children back and forth from N1 every
other weekend? I can smell disaster already.”
She angles her face slightly to the right, almost as if she is sniffing the air for the oncoming disaster, then checks her phone and says, “Jesus Christ, Google Maps is saying two hours and five minutes. Shaun swore blind this drive was only an hour and a half.” She sighs and runs her fingers through her shiny chestnut hair. “So, children, be good for Sophie. And for Daddy. Make sure you do everything you’re told.”
“Do you want to see their room?” asks Sophie.
“No,” she replies crisply. “I’m sure it’s fine. Shaun said you’d made it lovely for them, and I’m sure it is.”
Sophie feels a small flush of pleasure at Pippa’s words, at the innate suggestion that she is to be trusted to do the right thing with regard to her precious children.
Pippa leans down and kisses her children. Then she kisses Sophie lightly on each cheek before heading up the path back toward the main building and the car park.
When she’s gone, Sophie breathes a sigh of relief. She realizes immediately that Pippa’s visit had been hanging over her for days without her even really being aware of it. And now it is done and the twins are here and she can cast the anxiety away from her like loosened chains.
“Right, kids,” she says, coming back into the kitchen. “Who’s hungry?”
* * *
Shaun returns half an hour later, and for an hour or so the cottage is alive with the energy of a joyful reunion. He loses his heavy demeanor the moment he removes his tie and lets the children crawl onto his lap. Sophie puts a chicken lasagna in the oven (Lily won’t eat cows, sheep, or pigs, but says that chickens have scary faces so it’s OK to eat them) and opens a bottle of wine, and afterward, Shaun pours the twins a bath and oversees them getting into their pajamas and they both run down the stairs bare-footed and damp-haired with pink cheeks and Sophie finds a movie on the TV and they all sit bunched together on the sofa watching something that swirls and twirls drunkenly through the pillars of Sophie’s consciousness because she cannot focus on anything right now apart from the painting of the spiral staircase on Liam’s wall.