Christmas at Tiffany's

by Karen Swan

  Bas stopped combing her hair and swung round to face her. ‘I can’t believe he’s here,’ he hissed. ‘What a nerve, gatecrashing your BF’s wedding.’

  ‘You still haven’t explained why you went to see him,’ Kelly said, walking around the mannequin her dress was hanging from and showing off her perfectly toned, run-every-day butt cheeks.

  ‘You went to Scotland?’ Bas gasped. ‘Why am I always the last to know everything?’

  Cassie sighed wearily. ‘It was no big deal. I went up to get him to sign the divorce papers.’

  ‘What’s wrong with the post?’ Kelly quipped. ‘You’ve waited nine months. What’s a few extra days?’

  ‘He’d returned the documents to my solicitors unsigned. Henry said he was deliberately stalling, so I decided to confront him myself.’

  ‘That was brave,’ Bas said admiringly.

  ‘I thought so – until I had to stand there and deal with Wiz instead.’

  ‘Oh my God! Tell me she threw herself on your mercy,’ Kelly commanded, daggers in her eyes.

  ‘Not exactly. She said they were probably going to have more kids.’

  ‘The bitch!’ Kelly and Bas hissed together. Anouk shook her head in sympathetic silence.

  ‘I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It’s only natural that they’d want to give Rory a sibling.’

  ‘Would you get over yourself?’ Kelly cried, almost stamping her feet in frustration. ‘Stop being so goddamn reasonable!’

  There was a slight pause. ‘Need a beta blocker?’ Cassie asked.

  ‘No. I’m fine,’ Kelly insisted, taking a deep yogic breath and shaking herself down. ‘Ask me again in ten.’

  ‘I hate that she’s got away with it,’ Anouk said quietly, showing them all how far she’d come from being that very woman.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure she has.’ Cassie bit her lip nervously. Here came the hard part.

  ‘Teabag . . . ?’ Bas warned.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Gil doesn’t want to get divorced.’ She cleared her throat. ‘He wants me back.’

  ‘No!!!’ they all cried together, and Cassie winced at their vehemence.

  ‘Don’t do it,’ Kelly cried, running over and kneeling in front of her. ‘He’ll just break your heart all over again.’

  ‘I’ll disown you if you go back to that man!’ Bas shouted. ‘I did not acquire a taste for black pudding for nothing!’

  Even Anouk sat up to press her point. ‘You deserve better, for one thing,’ she said. ‘And the reason you walked away is still there,’ she murmured, referring to Rory. ‘It will always be there.’

  Cassie nodded. ‘I know. You’re right. You’re right. It’s just that . . . It’s Gil. The last time I was without him, I was a child. And this year’s been so hard. I mean, there have been great moments with you guys, of course there have.’ She stroked Bas’s hand, which was sitting heavily on her shoulder. ‘But it’s been so tough too. I’m not sure, at the end of the day, that I’m any happier without him than I was with him.’ She shrugged.

  There was no reply to that, but she could see that every person in the room felt somehow guilty for not having turned her new life into a fairy tale. Bas silently began pinning her hair with tiny cream rosebuds, Anouk lit a cigarette. Kelly stared at her, disappointedly, before getting up from her knees.

  ‘I think I’ll have one of those beta blockers now, please,’ she sighed.

  Chapter Fifty

  Hattie was in the hall, fixing her hat and pointedly ignoring Gil, who was sitting just feet from her, when Cassie skipped down the stairs fifteen minutes later. Suzy had made a last-minute appearance, having washed her hair at the hospital, and Bas was trying to style it whilst she stuffed breastfeeding pads into her humungous bra.

  ‘You look beautiful, darling,’ Gil said, looking up from the copy of The Times he always had in his suitcase. She saw him catch sight of the champagne ribbon strap on her bra, but he didn’t comment. ‘Thanks,’ Cassie replied shyly. The gang’s collective rebuke upstairs was still with her. ‘And you look wonderful, Hats,’ Cassie said, smiling brightly, taking in the royal blue jacquard jacket and matching long dress that she remembered Hattie dusting off every summer for Glyndebourne. ‘I’ve just come down for the flowers. The photographer wants some pictures of Kelly by the window.’

  ‘Oh, the flowers didn’t come,’ Hattie murmured, fiddling with a pin.

  ‘What?’ Cassie felt her heart rate accelerate to triple-time.

  ‘The taxi man rang and said they weren’t on the train. I don’t know if the dozy driver forgot to leave them with the station manager . . .’ she murmured.

  Cassie looked up towards the landing to make sure no one had overheard before running across the hall in horror. ‘But Hats,’ she whispered, ‘what am I going to tell Kelly? She can’t walk down the aisle with no flowers!’

  ‘It’s fine, dear. I’ve already sorted it. I’ve cut some roses and made a posy for her. They’re sitting in a bucket in the cutting room.’

  Cassie breathed a huge sigh of relief, smacking her hand over her tummy at the averted crisis. ‘Oh, thank God! It would have been a major crisis if you were an interior designer. I’d have had to give her some scented candles to carry,’ she laughed, running off to the room behind the kitchen where Hattie arranged all her flowers and potted the seedlings over winter. A red bucket was sitting in the butler’s sink.

  She picked up the posy inside it. The heads were thick with petals, the stems dethorned and wound with white ribbon.

  ‘I’ve got some of these roses, Hattie,’ she smiled, holding them to her nose to catch the scent as she walked back into the hall. ‘Cuisse de Nymphe, aren’t they?’

  ‘Gracious, I haven’t heard that name in years! That’s not what they’re usually called.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Well, that’s the Regency name, darling. I thought it had dropped out of usage.’ She lowered her voice. ‘It’s considered somewhat affected to use it nowadays. Everybody uses the Victorian name.’

  ‘Oh.’ Flipping Dean, showing off as usual. ‘What are they normally known as then?’

  Hattie finished fiddling with her hat and turned away from the mirror, throwing Gil an icy stare en route. ‘The perfect name for a wedding flower: Maiden’s Blush.’

  The photos took an age, and Gil had been cornered by two of Kelly’s uncles when Cassie finally stepped on to the terrace, a drink in her hand. Kelly and Brett were running across the lawn for a supposedly ‘natural’ shot, although Cassie had yet to go to a wedding where the happy couple spontaneously ran towards the horizon.

  Suzy and Archie had disappeared off to the swingseat, ostensibly to feed Cupcake, but really to coo over her with abandon. Henry was standing by the steps, chatting to a pneumatic brunette, and Cassie watched how easily he made her laugh, one hand in his pocket, as he no doubt regaled her with one of his polar-bear-wrestling stories. It had been three days since he’d pinned Cassie to the wall, his body against hers. If someone had told her then that they’d be behaving like strangers at Kelly’s wedding, it would have seemed ludicrous.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ Anouk whispered, sidling up to her.

  ‘Huh? Oh, hi.’

  Anouk followed Cassie’s gaze. ‘Why don’t you go and talk to him about it?’ she asked after a moment.

  ‘No. I don’t think . . .’ Cassie turned to face her suddenly. ‘Talk about what?’

  ‘The kiss.’

  Cassie gasped, checking around them suspiciously in case anyone had overheard. ‘How do you know about that?’ she whispered.

  ‘You said it, at the hospital – before you knew it was me.’

  Oh God. At the vending machine.

  ‘It was just a kiss,’ Cassie said hurriedly.

  ‘That was what you said at the time,’ Anouk smiled. ‘Although I don’t think he is getting over it.’

  Cassie gave a derisive snort. ‘No? He looks fine from where I’m standing.’

>   Anouk shook her head and took a sip of her drink. ‘She’s ammunition, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think Lacey would appreciate his behaviour,’ Cassie mumbled.

  ‘He’s not doing it to her. He’s doing it to you.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m not his fiancée. She is.’

  ‘No she isn’t.’

  Cassie’s glass slipped from her hand and the sound of crystal shattering on York stone made everyone – including Henry and the dollybird – turn round to stare. A waiter appeared out of nowhere and immediately brushed the glass away.

  ‘He rang me after Christmas and cancelled the order for the rings,’ Anouk said once another waiter had handed Cassie a fresh glass and she’d shakily taken a sip.

  ‘But why?’

  Anouk shrugged. ‘I’m not his confidante.’

  The revelation changed everything. If he had called off the engagement after Christmas, then his trip to Paris hadn’t been to see Anouk about the rings . . . and the trip to Venice hadn’t been to organize his honeymoon. He had been telling the truth that night after all. ‘Does Suzy know?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘He told her when he was off on his expedition. Something about double-booking the flowers?’ Anouk looked at Cassie. ‘You should talk to him.’

  But Cassie just felt even more confused. If his behaviour towards her wasn’t down to feeling guilty about Lacey, then why was he so angry?

  ‘Especially because you know Gil’s going to want to pin you down for an answer.’

  ‘I know.’

  Cassie looked away. All through the service, whilst the twinkly eyed vicar joined her friend in magical bliss with her soulmate, she had tried to draw up a mental list of pros and cons for taking him back. She knew that he would continue to try to convince her as soon as they got to the reception, and she had wanted to be sure of how she felt before he talked her round, the way he did so cleverly, every single day in court. But try as she might, all she’d been able to think about were the flowers in Kelly’s hand and what they had to do with her necklace, which was still hanging from a bridge in Paris.

  ‘I know he will. And I know what you think – you don’t need to tell me. I’d be going back on everything I said to you.’

  Anouk considered for a moment. ‘Well, I think it proves your point that a little hope is a dangerous thing,’ she said, smiling ruefully . . . ‘Oh no, don’t look up. He’s coming over.’

  ‘Hello, ladies,’ Gil smiled, leaning down to kiss Anouk on each cheek, a casual arm sliding around Cassie’s waist. ‘I’m so sorry not to have greeted you properly earlier, Anouk. I was somewhat . . . distracted.’ He flashed Cassie a loving smile.

  ‘Gil,’ Anouk replied through gritted teeth.

  ‘I’m looking forward to catching up with you. I’m rather hoping you can bring me up to speed on everything Cassie got up to with you in Paris.’ He squeezed Cassie playfully and it seemed strange to have him behave like that with her. She was used to detached formality in public from him. ‘Thank you for looking after her for me. It’s something to know that she had her friends looking out for her.’

  ‘She’s always got that, Gil,’ Anouk replied, and there was no hiding the flinty tone of her voice.

  Gil glanced, nonplussed, at the guests milling about the beautiful gardens.

  ‘There are quite a few of the old faces here, I see,’ he said. ‘Henry looks as though he’s all set for a good night.’

  Cassie and Anouk looked over towards the steps. Henry had moved down two, to counteract the height difference – even in heels the brunette was barely five foot five – and she was taking every opportunity to thrust her bosom in his face.

  ‘There are some new faces here too, Gil,’ Anouk said quickly, aware that Cassie couldn’t take her eyes off them. ‘See Bas over there in the purple shirt?’ she asked, pointing him out. He was standing by a topiary dove, throwing his arms around and sending his companion – a middle-aged woman in garish colours, quite possibly one of Kelly’s aunts – into fits of laughter.

  Gil followed her finger. ‘Him? Who’s he?’

  ‘He was Cassie’s best friend – ’ Anouk watched the horror cross his face at the thought of his wife being friendly with a camp hairdresser – ‘when she was in New York.’

  ‘You were in New York?’ Gil asked her, incredulous. ‘Anywhere else I should know about?’

  ‘London, Venice,’ Anouk replied for her.

  Cassie was still staring at Henry. She didn’t know him at all, she was thinking to herself – not in that way. He had proved himself a good friend to her, but as a lover, he was dangerous, untrustworthy. Hadn’t he himself said he was no angel? A broken engagement behind him, playing games with her in Venice, then cutting and running after he did kiss her. And any man who kissed like that . . . he was a predator.

  She took a step closer to Gil, and he smiled in surprise at her move, spreading his fingers up her waist so that they brushed the bottom of her bra. Sometimes it was better to trust the devil you knew.

  ‘You seem down in the dumps my dear,’ Hattie said, coming to join Cassie at the empty table where she was slumped, watching a friend of Brett’s do his best Mick Jagger impersonation. She had suffered through the speeches and dinner, which Gil had dominated with a rare bombastic bonhomie, triggering unimpressed expressions even from Arch, and now everyone had scattered. Kelly and Brett had danced their first dance, Gil was somewhere at the bar ordering himself a whisky; Anouk was dancing to Abba with Archie, whilst Suzy went off to change her bra after her boobs leaked during coffee. Henry was still with the Jessica Rabbit lookalike two tables away. Cassie had her back to them, so she couldn’t see what they were up to, but from the nervous glances Anouk had been shooting her way, she was amazed they hadn’t found a room already.

  Cassie straightened up and gave a brave smile. ‘Not at all, Hats. I’m just waiting for my second wind.’

  ‘What you need is some camomile tea.’

  ‘Camomile? At a wedding?’ Cassie grimaced. ‘That’s not the form. It said on my bridesmaid enrolment papers that I’m supposed to get slaughtered and snog an usher.’

  ‘Well now, that probably wouldn’t be such a bad thing! If you want my opinion, you could pick any man at random here tonight and you’d still make a better choice than that roué husband of yours.’

  Cassie nodded stoically. The verdict was unanimous then.

  Hattie jerked her chin in the air. ‘But you didn’t, so I’ll keep my opinions to myself. Anyway, camomile’s what you need. Energy in adversity. It’s just the ticket.’ She smiled sympathetically, patting Cassie’s hand.

  She went to get up, but Cassie clutched at her. ‘What did you say, Hats? Energy in adversity?’

  ‘Yes, dear. It’s just the tonic for you right now.’

  ‘But why did you say those specific words? You could have just said it would revitalize me.’

  ‘Hmmm, yes, I suppose I could,’ she mused. ‘But I’m something of a stickler for being correct about these things. The language of flowers is open enough to interpretation as it is.’

  ‘The language of flowers?’

  ‘Yes. The Victorians ascribed specific properties to flowers, and they attributed camomile with “energy in adversity”.’

  Cassie let go of her hand. She knew those very words, of course she did. They had been written on the tag that came with the grass seeds. ‘Energy in adversity’ had been Henry’s ‘motivational’ motto to her in New York. She thought about the list he’d given her: hosting dinner, running around the park . . . getting her going, getting her living again.

  But there hadn’t been a ‘motto’ for Paris. And he’d been adamant she had to find out what the flowers were herself. Did he want her to decipher their identities . . . and then their meanings?

  She felt her pulse quicken. She instinctively knew this mattered.

  Hattie had moved on to the dance floor and was being twirled around by the vicar, who was mor
e twinkle-toes than brimstone. Cassie stood up and stepped into the wriggling, giggling mass towards them.

  ‘Hats . . . Hats,’ she called, trying to tap Hattie on the shoulder. ‘So what is the meaning for Sweet Alyssum?’

  ‘What’s that?’ Hattie asked, cupping her ear and trying to hear over the drumbeat to Lady Gaga.

  ‘Sweet Alyssum,’ Cassie called, running in circles with her as the vicar attempted to whisk Hattie’s feet off the ground. ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘Uh . . . ooooh!’ she squealed as he achieved lift-off and she dissolved into a fit of girlish giggles.

  ‘Hats! Please!’ Cassie cried. She could see Gil paying for his drink by the bar.

  ‘I’m not sure. It’s been so long . . . “worth beyond beauty”, I think!’ the older woman called.

  Cassie stopped running. Worth beyond beauty? Her motto for Paris, when she had lost all sight of who she was and no longer recognized her own reflection? She remembered sitting on the bridge with Henry just after he’d idiotically locked her padlock to the bridge. You’ve tried to reinvent yourself when there is absolutely nothing about you that needs to be fixed . . . Her mind slowed. He’d given her energy in New York, the will to fight back straight after her marriage had been dealt the knockout blow; tried to show her she had a worth beyond the cosmetic in Paris. So, then, for London . . . ?

  She started chasing Hattie in circles again. ‘And Maiden’s Blush? It’s the last one, I promise.’

  ‘I’m sorry, dear. It’s been years since I looked at that book,’ Hattie said, shrugging apologetically.

  Cassie’s face fell. ‘You really can’t remember?’

  ‘Check in the library. It’ll be there somewhere.’

  The library? Gil was making his way back to the table; she could already see him scanning the marquee for her. She ducked down and moved across the dance floor, darting behind the DJ and running along the electrical cables until she found her escape through the caterers’ exit, past the bottle bins.