by Sarah Webb
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,’ I say. ‘Look, if it puts your mind at rest, of course I didn’t sleep with him, OK? I wouldn’t do that. We just talked.’ I don’t mention the kiss. Right now I just want to calm her down and get rid of her so I can ring Ed and ask him what the hell he’s playing at, landing me in it like this.
‘You hate me, don’t you?’ She gives a loud sniff and wipes her face on her shirt sleeve.
I consider this for a moment. ‘Yes,’ I say honestly.
She looks crestfallen. ‘I thought it would all blow over, that you’d be annoyed with me for a few weeks, then we could be friends again.’ She stares down at her sleeve, then starts playing with the small cuff button, twisting it in her fingers.
I stare at her. ‘Did you honestly believe that?’
She nods wordlessly.
I sigh. ‘Lainey, I came back from New Zealand to spend Christmas with Ed. He broke up with me on the way home from the airport. I cried for three whole days on your shoulder. You said it was for the best, that we’d both changed too much for it to work out, remember?’
She nods again. ‘Which was true.’
I don’t agree with her, but I let it go. ‘In March you asked me how I’d feel if Ed was seeing someone else. And what did I say?’
‘That you’d be fine.’
‘No, I said it would kill me, but I’d survive.’
She gives me a tiny smile. ‘I thought that was just the usual Schuster exaggeration.’
‘Lainey, I didn’t expect that someone else to be my best friend. You’d been seeing Ed behind my back for months at that stage. Months!’
Lainey straightens up a little. ‘Ed wanted to break up with you in person, he said it was only right. We didn’t sleep together until after Christmas out of respect for you.’
I look at her. ‘Respect? You don’t get it, do you? I loved Ed. We were together for five years. All that time you were just waiting in the wings, hoping eventually he’d notice you. Every time we went out for dinner or to the cinema, up you’d pop, asking was it OK to play gooseberry, when all along you were just waiting to stab me in the back like Brutus.’
Her face falls. ‘It wasn’t like that. Yes, I’ve always liked Ed, but we only fell in love while you were in New Zealand. We never meant to hurt you.’
I look her in the eye. ‘But why didn’t you have the guts to tell me the minute it happened?’
She refuses to meet my gaze, stares down at the ground. ‘Because I know you, Jules.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I demand.
She lifts her eyes. ‘You’re so territorial. You’d have warned me to keep away from him.’
‘Too right. He was my boyfriend for God’s sake. What, you think I should have said, “Go right ahead, help yourself. He’s only the love of my life. Rip my heart out why don’t you?”’
She winces. ‘No. But you guys were always arguing. And you both had so many flings,’ she falters, ‘I just thought . . . that it wasn’t serious.’
‘I lived for Ed. You of all people know that.’
‘You didn’t really,’ she says, her voice rising a notch. ‘If you really cared about him you wouldn’t have gone away so much. Ed needs stability, and he needs to be the centre of someone’s universe. He was never the centre of yours, Jules, not properly. You’ve always kept part of yourself back, even with me. Maybe it’s a survival mechanism, I don’t know.’
I’m about to strongly disagree with her when I stop and think about this for a second. Maybe I do keep something back, but doesn’t everyone?
‘I couldn’t have told you, Jules, honestly,’ she continues. ‘You would have made me choose between you and Ed. I couldn’t bear that. You both mean the world to me.’
I meet her eye. ‘Tell me the truth. If you had told me, and I had made you choose between us – me or Ed – who would you have picked?’
She pulls her eyes away, saying nothing. But from the guilty look on her face, I already know the answer.
I sigh, feeling numb and hollow inside. I’d always suspected it, but knowing for a fact that Lainey blatantly chose Ed over me, and doesn’t even have the decency to deny it to my face, it’s too much to absorb right now. But in her shoes, what would I have done? I like to think I’d have chosen my best friend over a boy, any boy, but maybe not. Where Ed’s concerned, my judgement has always been poor.
‘That’s what I thought,’ I say. ‘Lainey, I’ll be at your wedding, my head held high. I will watch you and Ed exchange your vows, I will sit and eat your wedding breakfast and make polite conversation about how beautiful you look. I will pretend to smile during the speeches when Ed says how much he loves you, and your dad says how perfect you are for each other. And once the meal is over I’ll stand up, make my excuses and leave. And from that moment on, I want nothing more to do with you or Ed Powers. That chapter of all our lives will be firmly closed. Do you understand?’
‘You’re coming?’ Her face lifts.
My heart sinks. She hasn’t been listening to a word I’ve said, or maybe she just doesn’t care. ‘Yes. And after your wedding, you will both be dead to me.’
She laughs nervously. ‘You’re being melodramatic again.’
‘I’m serious, Lainey. Tell me you understand.’
She nods, her eyes filling with tears again. ‘Yes, I get it.’
I shrug, blowing out my breath in a whoosh. ‘Then there’s nothing more to say I guess.’
‘Jules?’ She looks at me, a funny expression on her face. ‘Don’t ruin everything. I know he’s nervous about the wedding. Please don’t talk him out of it or take him away from me, not now. We both know you can. If you really do still love him, let him go. And for the record, I’m sorry.’ And with that she turns away quickly and powers down the street, leaving me staring at her back.
I know I should run after her, tell her she’s wrong, that it’s her he loves, not me. That if she really feels that his heart isn’t in it, she shouldn’t be marrying him at all. That Ed isn’t good enough for her, never will be. But I can’t. It’s too hard to articulate and I don’t have the energy. So instead I stand there, watching my best friend walk out of my life for good.
That night, after telling Pandora and Bird I’m exhausted and going to bed early, I sneak a bottle of wine up the stairs and into my bedroom. I close the door firmly behind me, pull my chair over to the window and sit there, staring out at the tree house, my mind whirring, bottle by my feet. I know I shouldn’t be drinking, but it’s an emergency. I can’t stop thinking about Lainey and Ed, Ed and Lainey, plus, as I was reminded of him earlier, Noel feckin’ Hegarty, and it’s doing my head in. I need something to numb the pain.
Straight after Lainey’s visit to the shop, I rang Ed in a temper, couldn’t wait to give him a piece of my mind for landing me in it with his beloved fiancée, but it went straight to messages. Then I rang his work number, again no answer. Finally I tried Clara’s line, but she said he was out of the office and to try his mobile.
‘How are you holding up?’ she then asked kindly. ‘I know the wedding’s soon.’
‘I’m fine,’ I lied. ‘Keeping busy.’
‘Good for you. Look, about the other night, did you get home OK? I’m so sorry I had to run off like that; babysitter hates me being too late, you know how it is.’
‘Actually, Clara, I don’t know if Ed said anything but—’ I was about to tell her about Noel, not caring what Ed thought right at that second, when I heard Noel’s voice in the background, barking an order directly at Clara. My insides tumbled and I felt sick.
‘Sorry, better run,’ Clara said in a small voice. And then the phone cut out. I considered ringing her back, but then thought against it. I didn’t want to put her in an awkward position and in retrospect it’s probably best to keep it to myself, to try and forget about the whole bloody Noel thing.
After a moment, ignoring the voice of reason in my head telling me not to, I pull my iPhone out of my pocket ag
ain and click into Ed’s Facebook page. I still haven’t de-friended him. Even though I’ve certainly meant to, something has always held me back. It just seems so final, the last nail in the coffin. Lainey doesn’t have a page, says it’s not for her, she has issues with the privacy risks, which in the circumstances is probably just as well. One less page I can stalk.
I flick through Ed’s photo albums and find recent pictures of himself and Lainey. Ed’s arm is flung easily across Lainey’s shoulders and both are beaming at the camera, in the background the Eiffel Tower is stark black against the sunny blue sky. Tears sting my eyes and I blink them back.
I reach down and look at the label on the bottle of wine. A Chablis from Burgundy. Of course it had to be bloody French, but it was one of the few screw-top bottles to hand. I open it, take a swig, then go back to torturing myself with Ed and Lainey’s smiley, happy holiday snaps.
Chapter 16
By Thursday evening I’m exhausted. Shoestring was hopping today and we had minor press excitement when a film crew from RTÉ swooped on the shop to film Asha Bhandari standing in our window for the six o’clock news. She’d spotted the papier mâché elephants while she was walking back to the hotel from her Monkstown Book Festival reading, came in to have a look around, and ended up buying a red cashmere cardigan from Bird.
Asha adored our elephant window. Clapped her hands together and gave a shriek of delight as soon as she realized the whole tableau was based on her book cover.
‘How adorable,’ she’d said in her distinctive, rich voice. ‘I must put a photo up on my website. Sophie, would you mind?’ She waved her hand at a girl in a very short skirt who was lingering behind her, watching everything.
The girl looked at her a little blankly.
Asha smiled at her. ‘Take a photograph of the window, would you please?’
Asha leaned towards me and Bird. ‘Such posh twits, some of these PR girls. Sweet though.’
I thought it was a little unfair, Sophie seemed nice, but Bird chuckled. ‘Can I offer you some coffee? It’s nice and strong.’
‘Why thank you,’ Asha said. ‘That sounds wonderful. And won’t you join me? I’d love to hear all about Monkstown. No one seems to be able to tell me much about the area’s past.’
Bird’s face lit up. She knows a lot of local history and loves an audience.
While Bird and Asha had a good old chin wag in the coffee shop, Sophie rang RTÉ, told them about the window and set up an interview. Luckily the news crew were in the area and agreed to do a short piece. Not such a twit after all.
Forty minutes later, Bird, Pandora and I are watching the filming from the sidelines. Pandora is jumpy with excitement.
‘RTÉ,’ she keeps saying. ‘The shop’s going to be on national television. I knew that elephant window was a great idea.’
I give a cough.
‘Well done, Jules,’ she adds quickly. ‘You put a lot of work into it and this telly thing is a real coup for Shoestring. I checked the till receipts earlier; things are looking up. Maybe we’re finally turning a corner.’
The sound man from the film crew shushes us and we listen to Asha talk about the role elephants play in her book.
‘When I was a little girl in Siju,’ she says, ‘our neighbour was a mahout. Used to allow me and my sisters to visit his elephants whenever we wished. To this day, I’ve always loved the animals, so majestic. In my novel, the main character, Alisha, a widow with useless sons, knows that she is dying. She decides to make an epic journey from Calcutta to the Garo Hills on the back of her elephant, Jasmin, to visit her beloved sister and to die in the tiny village where she grew up helping her father, also a mahout like my neighbour. And to allow Jasmin to die among her own elephant family.’
Afterwards, Bird says, ‘What’s Asha’s book called again? Sounds fascinating. Must get it for your father.’ Bird will only read history and biographies, says real life is a lot more interesting than fiction.
‘The Journey,’ I tell her, wondering if Arietty likes novels. If she does, I’m sure she’d love Asha’s book too.
‘I’m definitely going to read it,’ Pandora says.
Bird and I exchange a look. Pandora already has a row of books as long as her arm beside her bed that she’s bought but still hasn’t got around to reading yet. She and Dad are the bookworms in the family, and it seems to have rubbed off on Iris too.
I watch the cameraman taking a few final shots of Asha and then something occurs to me. ‘We should get our own photo of Asha in the window before she climbs out, Pandora. For the website. And why don’t you get her to sign the wall behind the till? Like you see in restaurants sometimes. We can hang her photo over the signature. Our own wall of fame. I’m sure that Sissy creature would do it for you too, she’s such an attention seeker.’
Pandora looks at me. ‘Clever idea, Jules. I like it. And I appreciate everything you’ve done to make the shop look so great.’
‘Thank you.’ I smile at her. It looks like I’m on a Shoestring roll.
Pandora’s in such a good mood that even though I’m supposed to be covering the shop until eight this evening – Thursday is late night opening – she gives me the evening off. Dad has offered to mind Iris, so she’s going to cover the shop herself, with Lenka’s help if it gets busy. So I’ve called a Shoestring Club meeting with Arietty and asked Jamie to tag along to explain his new man list. It will help keep my mind off Lainey and, more critically, Ed.
I’m still livid with him, I’ve been ringing his mobile several times an hour, but still no reply. And since Lainey’s visit, I keep looking up from the till, expecting to see her glaring at me, after finding out about the kiss. I wouldn’t put it past Ed to come clean; he has an evil streak sometimes and he might use it to upset her or slap her down. And this is the man I’m holding a torch for? Really? I’m deranged. Dad and Iris have taken over the living room to watch The Simpsons (they’re both huge fans), so we convene in the kitchen.
As soon as we are sitting, Jamie pulls a plastic folder out of his bag and slaps it down on the table.
‘Right, girls,’ he says. ‘I’ve taken Jules’s list into consideration and this is the best you’re going to get. Single men in the right age bracket, who live locally, and who have downloaded music or rented movies in the last month.’
I smile at him and then at Arietty. ‘And I spoke to Pandora this afternoon. She’s agreed in theory to a mother and son night on Friday next.’
They both gawk at me.
‘A mother and son night?’ Jamie asks. ‘Are you serious?’
I chuckle. ‘I know, it’s a bit left of centre, but Pandora swallowed it, and that’s all that matters. Hester gave me the idea. She’s one of our new regulars. She was chatting to me about her son, Declan. She was in a bit of a state. Apparently he was sharing the family home with his ex-wife but she decided she wanted rid of him, so she changed the locks and the alarm code. Locked him out of his own house. So now he’s staying with his mother.’
‘God love the man,’ Jamie murmurs.
‘Anyway,’ I continue, ‘Hester said she wished he’d go out more, that his social life was terrible and what with work and taking his daughter every weekend, he’d never meet anyone. So as you can imagine, my mind went into overdrive and I told her we were thinking of having some sort of evening for customers in the shop, with things for the guys to do while the women shopped, and she was all for it and asked could we make it mothers and sons so her Declan wouldn’t feel out of place. Said she’d invite all her Mothers’ Union and bridge friends, that loads of them had sons. So that’s basically our cover.’
Jamie doesn’t look convinced. ‘And Pandora really swallowed it?’
I nod enthusiastically. ‘I got Hester to talk her round. She’s pretty persuasive.’
Jamie gulps. ‘Hope Mum doesn’t get it into her head—’
I laugh, no wonder he’s looking rather uncomfortable. ‘She’s way ahead of you. Once Bird rang her, Daphne was already pick
ing out her dress. Irish mammies and their sons, it’s a shopping match made in heaven. Your idea, Jamie, 80s gaming night for boys, complete with free beer and food.’
He swears under his breath. ‘I don’t remember saying anything about mothers.’
Arietty grins. ‘The place is going to be crawling with single men and older ladies. I love it. It’ll be like Cougar Town.’
I pretend to gag. ‘Euw, please. Hester’s about sixty.’
‘And that’s my mother you’re talking about,’ Jamie reminds her.
‘It happens,’ Arietty says simply. ‘Although they shouldn’t call the women cougars. Real cougars reach sexual maturity at two, not when they’re older. And the females are far more interested in eating than mating. Most of them only live six or eight years in the wild. Using the term is nonsense, an insult to the animal kingdom.’
Jamie and I exchange an amused look.
‘Quite right, Arietty,’ I say, trying not to smile. ‘And it looks like with Hester’s help, and Jamie’s list, all systems are go. If Pandora doesn’t score, there’s something seriously wrong with her. You might find someone too, Jamie.’ I wiggle my eyebrows at him. ‘You’d make some old dear a fabulous toy boy.’
He just glares at me.
‘You too, Arietty,’ I add. ‘Once Pandora’s taken her pick, the hand-selected single men of south county Dublin are all yours. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.’
She wrinkles up her nose. ‘No thanks. No offence, Jamie, but most men are complete eejits. My stepdad’s all right, but my own dad was a complete waster. Ran off with one of Mum’s friends when I was seven. Na, I’m better off on my own.’
I don’t know what to say to that and Jamie looks taken aback and a bit uncomfortable, so I keep my mouth shut and flick through Jamie’s list, focusing on some of the details. After a few seconds I look up at him.