Worst Idea Ever

by Jane Fallon

  Of course, she might just look at me and think I look like her mother.

  ‘Perfect. Are you really sure you want to do this?’

  I nod in what I hope is a convincing way. She puts her hands on my shoulders. ‘Remember: smile, look happy, don’t drink. It’s a fact-finding mission, nothing more.’

  ‘Yep.’ My mouth is dry. I want to go down to the kitchen and get a glass of water, but I’m scared if I do I’ll never come up again.

  ‘And even if she’s not there, or you can’t work out which one she is, Nick’ll see you and come to his senses …’

  ‘Because he’s scared he’s going to get caught?’ I’m about to say I don’t want him to end it with her just because he thinks I’m on to him when she interrupts.

  ‘Because he’ll realize what he’s in danger of losing. Trust me. I know.’

  I hug her goodbye. Wait for her to grab Igor’s collar before I head out of the door to my taxi.

  By the time I reach the pub my immaculate façade is fading fast. My face is red and blotchy from concentrating on not slipping on my way across the square. My hair frizzes damply. I find the toilets and lock myself in a cubicle, sitting down on the closed lid and breathing deeply. Not the greatest of ideas. I put my hand over my nose. I hear voices and a pair of laughing women clatter in. I sit very still. Wait for what seems like an age before I hear two flushes and the tap running.

  ‘Fucking cheek of it,’ one of them is saying. ‘You should have fucked her up.’ Jesus, I hope she’s not my rival. I’m a full-on, card-carrying coward when it comes to physical violence. I once offered a bloke my mobile because I thought he was going to hit me. Turned out he was just swiping an angry wasp off my arm. Once they’ve gone I emerge and do what I can in front of the mirror. I brought a few emergency supplies in my bag so I smooth down my hair with argan oil and press Bare Minerals powder on to my shiny face. It’ll do.

  I head out to the bar. There are a couple of large groups having shouty conversations. That kind of manic energy that you get when people who work together let loose together. The knife-edge potential that you might say something to your boss after a few drinks that’ll get you either promoted or fired. I scan them both for Nick and spot him over by the window, penned in by nine or ten people. I have a moment to scrutinize them before there’s any danger he will see me. It’s tempting to stay here and just observe. Get a true picture of how he behaves when I’m not around. Seven of the group are women. I recognize Jasmine and Sue. Nick is flanked by two of the others. Both around mid-thirties. Both attractive. The one on his left is talking to him intently, leaning in to say something for his ears only. I feel a sharp pang of jealousy. I’ve never been a possessive person. Not even in the post-Felicity world. But this is different. This is not unfounded suspicion. This is fact.

  I force a smile on to my face. Pull it back a bit. Happy to be there, not unhinged. And then I push my shoulders down, stand as tall as I can, take a calming breath and stride towards my husband.

  He’s deep in conversation with suspect number one – long, poker-straight dark blonde hair, low-cut top – and so he doesn’t see me approach. I hover awkwardly. A couple of people give me a passing glance and then go back to their chats. I’m about to slope off and try again later when Jasmine spots me and greets me warmly.

  ‘Georgia! Hi.’ Twenty-plus eyes all swivel to look at who it is she’s talking to. Out of the corner of my eye I see Nick double take, and – I would swear – his first, unconscious reaction is a frown that he swiftly buries and replaces with a smile.

  ‘Hi, Jasmine,’ I say, just as he says, ‘Georgia? What are you doing here?’ He stands up, maybe to put some distance between himself and one of the women he was sitting between. I feel myself colour as if they are all waiting for me to explain myself.

  I unravel my scarf. ‘You’re always saying come down, so I thought I would,’ I say lightly. ‘I was bored stiff at home.’

  ‘Great,’ he says. ‘Brilliant.’

  Someone fetches a stool for me to sit on, opposite Nick. The perfect vantage point.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ a woman to the left of me says. I can see that they all have full glasses. She waves a half-full bottle of white at me.

  ‘Oh. Yes, that would be lovely.’ She produces a glass from somewhere and hands it to me. I pour myself a tiny measure.

  ‘I’m Elaine, by the way,’ she says. ‘I’m Logistics, but don’t hold that against me.’ I think Elaine may have had a couple before the others got here. Perhaps she has a flask in her desk drawer. I don’t think she’s drunk, but she’s on the way. She’s in her late fifties. Frizzy hair. Shiny suit jacket. I don’t think she’s my rival, but who knows.

  ‘Oh. Yes,’ Nick says. ‘I should introduce you. Everyone, this is Georgia, my wife …’ Does he imbue that word with gravitas? Is he making sure that whoever it is knows to dial down the flirty looks? ‘You know Jasmine and Sue. This is Martin,’ he says, indicating the man to Sue’s right. He carries on counter-clockwise as I smile, smile, smile. ‘Si, Danny, Elaine you just met, Abigail …’ Abigail is thirty-odd, pretty. Big blue eyes. Girl next door in that way that gets more attractive the more you look at her. A possible. He jumps over me and Jasmine. ‘Anil, Jess …’ Jess is another possible. A bit younger than the others, dark-eyed, full-lipped. My grin is becoming a rictus. Finally he gets to the woman on his left. The one he was deep in discussion with. ‘Lou. And’ – indicating the woman on his right who has rich red hair and a pale porcelain complexion. Delicate. Tiny. I’d bet she’s not more than five foot. I feel like a wardrobe next to a bedside table – ‘Siobhan. That’s it.’

  ‘No one is expecting you to remember all that,’ Elaine says, topping up her own glass.

  ‘Hi, everyone,’ I say. They all mutter hello and then there’s an awkward silence where, I think, they’re weighing up whether they need to be seen to entertain the stranger or if they can carry on with the conversations they were having before I arrived. I’m an inconvenience. I know I have to make the most of this opportunity though, so I can’t worry about that. I turn to the nearest of the women I haven’t met before. Abigail.

  ‘What do you do?’ I ask and then I cringe at my lack of originality. If I was hoping to show them that Nick has an attractive, smart, funny wife who they can never truly compete with, this is not the conversation-opener to go with. Luckily the rest of them are so relieved to be off the hook that they pick up where they left off when I showed up, so they’re not listening. Abigail looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights, forced to talk to the stranger.

  ‘I’m one of the bookers,’ she says.

  ‘Oh, right,’ I say, grasping for what to ask next – ‘Are you having an affair with my husband?’ not being a viable option. In my peripheral vision I can see that Nick has turned to Siobhan on his right. Does that mean something? Is he no longer talking to Lou because I’m here? They seemed pretty cosy when I arrived. Is he telling Siobhan to act casual, not to give herself – or him – away?

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you at last. You’re a novelist, aren’t you?’ Abigail says, making an effort.

  ‘Not really. Picture books. For kids.’

  ‘That’s amazing. I wish I had a talent like that.’ I like Abigail, I decide. I really hope it’s not her.

  We’re interrupted when Lou pipes up. She has a braying voice, like an agitated donkey. ‘So, Georgia, what’s Nick like at home? Surely we’re allowed to pump you for his deepest, darkest secrets as you’re here? What’s his worst habit?’

  Lou, on the other hand, I do not like. I smile faintly. Nick is looking stricken, the focus of potential ridicule from his team. And maybe his mistress too. ‘Oh no,’ I say, forcing a laugh into my voice. ‘My lips are sealed.’

  ‘Come on, you have to!’ Flame-haired Siobhan, on Nick’s other side, joins in. I catch a flash of her eyes, a vivid emerald green. Even from across the table they’re startling.

  ‘Leave the poor woman alone,’ my
new best friend Abigail interrupts.

  I remind myself that part of my mission today is to play the happy, friendly wife who might just prick someone’s conscience enough that they’ll want to tip them off after a few drinks. ‘He’s a model husband, aren’t you, darling?’ I say sweetly, and just about avoid vomiting. Nick just looks confused.

  I’m pretty sure I can eliminate Elaine and Abigail as well as Jasmine and Sue from my enquiries. Lou and Siobhan are definite possibles. Jess is the only one I haven’t yet interacted with, so I turn to her, completely ignoring Anil who is sitting next to her. I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but I don’t have time to waste on him at the moment. ‘How about you, Jess? What do you do?’ She looks at me as if I’m her teacher and I’ve just singled her out to read her homework aloud.

  ‘Events. Same as the rest of them.’

  ‘Oh. You’re all in the Events Department?’

  ‘It’s department drinks,’ she says with a – probably subconscious – sneer.

  ‘Right. And what do you do? In the Events Department?’

  ‘Jess is our sunny Budgets Exec,’ Anil says. ‘She lives to tell us we’re offering the Cheeky Girls five pounds more than they’re worth.’

  ‘So you end up offering them nothing?’ I say, attempting a joke. Luckily he gets it, and lets out a yelpy laugh. Jess just sits there stony-faced. Out of the corner of my eye I can see that Nick is trying to get my attention, leaning forward while Lou and Siobhan chat animatedly behind his back.

  ‘Is this the whole department then?’ I say to Anil, ignoring my husband. ‘Are you all here?’

  He looks around. ‘Not quite. Camilla’s gone home, I think. She’s the graphics person. Does all the artwork …’ Shit. I need to add Camilla to the list. Anil gets to his feet. ‘It’s my round. What can I get you?’

  I hear Nick saying my name. He’s shrugging into the sleeves of his jacket, obviously keen to go.

  I pretend I haven’t heard, keep my eyes focused on Anil. ‘Thanks. Vodka and tonic, please.’

  ‘Ooh, Nick, that means you’ll have to stay for another,’ Lou purrs. ‘He never stays for two,’ she says to me as if I have no clue what my husband gets up to. Well, actually, she’s right, but not on that score.

  ‘We can’t leave Igor this long,’ he says to me, pleadingly.

  ‘Anne Marie’s babysitting him. Come on, I’ve only just got here.’

  ‘OK. Just one more, though. I’m knackered.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say, not mentioning that Anne Marie has agreed to stay till half past ten. I need to be here for long enough for them all to get pissed and lose their inhibitions. ‘It’ll be fun.’

  Famous last words.

  CHAPTER 15

  We don’t speak a word to each other for most of the taxi ride home, as if we’ve silently agreed to delay our row until we’re alone. I send Anne Marie a text so that she won’t be there to pick up on the atmosphere when we get in. Home in 5 so you’re off the hook! He’ll be fine on his own till we get there. Thanks so much again. I owe you! Xx

  Any time, she texts back. He’s been an angel. Except he ate my scarf. Well, a bit of it. How did it go?

  OK, I lie. I can’t get into it now. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.

  It was all going so well. Halfway through drink number two I started to feel more relaxed. Anil was friendly and easy to talk to, but I was still more interested in the women of the group. The alcohol meant everyone started to loosen up a bit and, although I still felt like an intruder, I was able to sit back and watch the dynamics between them all. There was a definite frisson of sexual tension between ghastly Jess and the bloke called Si – a young hipster with a bushy beard and tattoos who was drinking frothy pints of dark ale and smacking his lips loudly like, I imagine, he thought an extra in The Last Kingdom might – and it made me think that she wasn’t the one, unless it was all an act to make Nick jealous. I have a vague recollection of them leaving together later in the night, although by then things had started to go a bit hazy.

  At one point Nick got up to go to the loo and my phone beeped with a text. I knew it would be him. We have always sent each other jokey messages when we’ve been out together. Toupee at two o’clock or Check out the waiter’s facelift. Stuff like that. This one just said: Let’s go after this one. I don’t want to spend all evening with this lot. We can go and eat somewhere. I ignored it. Accepted the offer of a third drink for the two of us.

  ‘Ready?’ he said when he came back and I feigned ignorance. ‘Abigail’s just getting a round in.’

  ‘I’ll tell her we don’t want one,’ he said, turning away just as she appeared with my vodka and his red wine.

  I remember, later, the group shifting. People moving seats to find someone different to talk to. I remember nabbing an empty stool next to Lou, who was still clamped to Nick’s side, when Jess vacated it to clamber on to Si’s lap. It was getting messy. I was feeling a mixture of heady confidence and crippling insecurity. I was hilarious, fun, sparkly. They thought I was sad, old, frumpy. They were all storing up embarrassing anecdotes about me to share in the morning. I leaned into Lou, aware that all my double vodkas were making me slur.

  ‘What do you do, Lou?’ It seemed to be the only conversation starter I had.

  She looked at me down her perfectly straight nose. ‘Talent liaison.’ She turned back to continue her conversation with Siobhan. Nick was deep in discussion with the one called Danny. I wasn’t letting her off that easily. ‘Do you get on well with Nick?’

  ‘Sorry?’ she said, and I noticed Nick flick me a look. I knew he was tipsy too, because he hadn’t objected to staying for the previous round. Everyone was. That’s something at least. ‘It’s just you look as if you get on well, the two of you.’ Shut up, Georgia, a voice in my head said. Go home.

  She turned to Siobhan and gave her a ‘get a load of this’ look. Siobhan sniggered. ‘I’m not sure what you’re saying.’

  Shit. ‘Just … it’s nice. That you get on with the boss.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, and then I think she decided to give me the benefit of the doubt briefly. ‘It is. We all do.’ I was aware of Nick glaring at me.

  ‘It makes a big difference, doesn’t it?’ I rambled on, trying to claw some dignity back. Lou smiled at me in a way that I interpreted as patronizing. ‘It’s a happy department, what can I say?’

  ‘And it’s nice that you all socialize together. Do you get to travel round to the sites?’ Did you go to Inverness recently, is what I really wanted to ask.

  She arches an eyebrow. ‘Of course. That’s my job, looking after the acts, making sure they have everything they need.’

  ‘Doesn’t each resort have their own person to do that?’

  ‘They do, and I oversee them all.’

  I didn’t know if I was imagining it but it seemed as if there was a weird competitive edge to our chat. Did that mean Lou was the one or was it just because she felt under attack from me? I had no way of knowing.

  ‘Not in the off season, though? Or do you …?’

  I tried to tell myself to drop it, but I wasn’t in any state to listen.

  I have a vague memory of her rolling her eyes at Siobhan. ‘Do I …?’

  ‘Visit the resorts in the off season?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘That must be nice.’ Apparently nice was the only adjective I knew.

  ‘If you like that sort of thing,’ she said.

  Suddenly I was convinced she was the culprit. Something about her sneering tone gave her away.

  ‘Did you go to Inverness when Nick went?’ I knew I shouldn’t ask it. I knew it made me look sad and jealous and paranoid but, at that moment, I was all those things.

  Lou snorted. I can still remember the sound. Dismissive. ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘So you did.’

  ‘No, actually. But who knows? I might have to in the future. Do you have an issue with that?’

  I knew I should try to save face a bit, but I
was past caring. I loathed this woman. All my frustration and anger of the past few days was suddenly focused directly on her and her sarcastic sneer. ‘Of course not. You don’t have to be so aggressive …’

  ‘So sorry. It’s just not every day someone’s fucking wife starts giving me the third degree about my relationship with their husband …’ she said, way too loudly.

  Siobhan touched her arm. ‘Lou …’

  Of course I knew I’d gone too far, knew that everyone’s eyes were suddenly on us. ‘I was just making conversation.’

  Lou laughed. Looked round at her colleagues for approval. ‘Well, poor Nick then, if that’s your idea of banter.’

  ‘No need to be so fucking rude …’ I said. Suddenly I was aware of someone taking me by the arm and handing me my coat.

  ‘Time for us to go,’ Nick said brusquely. I hadn’t even noticed him stand up. I wriggled out of his grasp.

  ‘No. Not yet. I’m in the middle of a chat—’

  He ignored me. ‘See you tomorrow, everyone. Come on, Georgia, our Uber’s here.’

  ‘When did you order an Uber? I don’t want to go yet.’

  He glared at me in a very un-Nick-like way. ‘It’s waiting.’ I got to my feet reluctantly, knocking my stool over in the process, and struggled into my coat, choosing the wrong armhole at first. I was aware of Jasmine giving me a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Bye, everyone. Lovely to meet you,’ I said, waving a hand as I tottered after Nick, still trying to dress myself for the cold. I heard a burst of laughter coming from behind me. Willed myself not to look round. I caught Nick up by the door to the corridor. ‘Hold on a sec.’

  ‘What the hell was that all about?’ he hissed. His tone shook me.

  ‘What? What have I done?’

  ‘Getting pissed. Giving my colleagues the third degree …’

  ‘I was just talking. Anyway, you’re pissed too—’

  ‘Because you insisted we stayed!’ he barked. ‘I wanted to go home after one as usual. I’ve got to face them all at work tomorrow.’