by Fiona Harper
‘The petite woman in leopard print, with the big hair and six-inch heels,’ Abby said. Both Claire and Kitty looked back at Abby in shock. ‘Yeah, I know,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I wonder if the stork really did bring me.’
Claire gave her a quick, one-armed hug, as much as the space constraints would allow. ‘It’s your moment,’ she said. ‘Good luck.’
‘Knock ‘em dead,’ Kitty said in all seriousness.
Abby nodded, took a deep breath and headed on through the crush. In the wake she created, Claire and Kitty were able to sidle a little bit closer.
Abby pushed her way to the edge of the circle of people surrounding the guest of honour and waited, but nobody said anything. Claire was trying to work out why they were all being so rude, when she realised it was just like when she’d seen Kitty on the doorstep – for a moment not even her own mother recognised Abby.
Abby stepped forward. ‘Mum?’
Her mum stopped in the middle of a story and turned to face her daughter. Her face was completely blank, and then, slowly, so very slowly, recognition dawned in her eyes. ‘Abby?’
Abby nodded.
Her mother looked her up and down. ‘What the bloody hell are you wearing?’
‘A dress,’ Abby said, looking perplexed.
Claire had a bad feeling about this. She’d expected a joyful, almost tearful expression, but Abby’s mum wasn’t looking very happy at all. Claire tried to push a little bit closer.
Abby, whose expression had been both scared and hopeful, started to slouch and she hugged herself around her middle. ‘You said you wanted me in a dress, so here I am in a dress.’
‘I know I said I wanted you in a dress,’ her mother said, hands on her hips, voice tense, ‘and I know you didn’t like the idea. But it doesn’t give you the licence to come along to my birthday party and bloody take the mick!’
Abby’s mouth dropped open. ‘I’m not!’
‘Polka dots? Little white collars? Seriously? What’s wrong with a bit of Lycra, for goodness’ sake? Who do you think you are? Doris bloody Day?’ And then she nodded to herself. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You didn’t like me making you go to that club and this is your way of paying me back. Well, it’s not going to work, you know!’
It was at that unfortunate moment that the DJ had chosen to change tracks and her voice rang out in the silence. Everyone turned and looked at Abby. Everyone. Claire’s stomach dived. She knew Abby didn’t do well when cornered, and she was proved right when Abby let out a string of rather unladylike words.
Her mother stared at her, face rigid, and then she began to shake. She thumped the woman standing next to her on the arm while still keeping her eyes on her daughter. ‘Give me my handbag.’
The woman handed it over.
Her mother rummaged inside and then produced the pair of tickets Abby had been dreaming about all these months. Then, carefully and very deliberately, she gripped them in her blood-red talons and tore them in two.
‘No!’ Abby shouted and dived for the pieces, but they’d fluttered to the floor and were now being kicked this way and that by the rest of her mother’s guests.
She stood up again and looked at her mum. ‘I hate you,’ she yelled, just before the music started up again, and then she pushed her way through the crowd and out the door with something approaching superhuman strength. It must have been, because Claire tried to follow and found herself blocked in.
She looked this way and that, searching for a better exit route, and that’s when her eyes locked with those of the guest of honour. Abby’s mum’s eyes narrowed and she started marching towards her.
‘You put her up to this, didn’t you? You and that sad little club of yours!’ she spat at Claire. ‘You helped her.’
‘Yes, we did,’ Claire said, any wobble that had been in her stomach gone. She pulled herself up taller. ‘And I’m proud of it. That girl tried really, really hard to impress you. You have no idea how scared she was to come in here and face you and all your friends, and you threw it all back in her face! You should be ashamed of yourself – at the very least you should have let her explain.’
The other woman put her hands on her hips. ‘Oh, should I?’
Claire just raised her eyebrows and let the other woman work it out for herself.
‘Well, there’s something else I should do, because I don’t think I remember inviting you to my party.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Claire said, as she turned towards the door. ‘I’m going.’ And the stunned crowed parted before her like the Red Sea until she reached the door.
When she walked into the cold night air, her heart was pounding, partly from the adrenalin rush of the confrontation, but partly because she was just so angry on Abby’s behalf, especially because she knew what it was like to have a parent who judged you and found you wanting, no matter how hard you tried.
Kitty was already outside the pub, looking up and down the street.
‘Did you see which way she went?’ Claire asked.
Kitty shook her head.
‘You go that way,’ Claire said pointing to the left, ‘and I’ll go the other.’
Claire checked the alley down the side of the pub and found no trace of Abby, but then she had a brainwave. She crossed the road and headed into the park, towards where the football goals were. When she was maybe thirty feet away she started to wonder if she could see a group of large white dots collected near one of the goalposts and, when she got closer, she realised she was right.
‘Oh, Abby,’ she said and drew the girl into a hug. Abby was stiff against her. ‘Do you want me to take you home? I’ll have to find Kitty first, though.’
‘Kitty’s right here,’ a voice said behind her, slightly breathlessly. ‘I saw you going into the park and followed.’
Abby peeled herself away from Claire. ‘I don’t want to go home. Ever.’
Claire decided not to push the point, even if she knew Abby would have to set foot across her own doorstep at some point.
‘You can come back and stay at mine and Grace’s,’ Kitty said firmly. ‘We were going to have a Katherine Hepburn movie marathon when she got in from work, and I’m positive she won’t mind.’
‘Are you sure?’ Abby said hopefully.
Kitty nodded. ‘Cross my heart,’ she said, drawing one glossy nail across her ratty T-shirt. ‘You can kip on the sofa.’
Abby closed her eyes. ‘Do you think I could go to sleep and wake up somewhere else, better still, someone else?’
‘If you lie still long enough, Grace will probably give you a makeover,’ Kitty said. ‘Does that count?’
For the first time in what seemed like months, although it was actually probably only an hour, Abby smiled. ‘Can’t hurt to try,’ she said, as she Kitty and Claire walked back across the park towards the gate.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It’s Better to Conceal Than Reveal
Dominic waited for Claire outside The Glass Bottom Boat. He couldn’t go inside, because there was some kind of private party going on, and he couldn’t see her anywhere. He’d tried texting a few times and had even left a voice message, but she wasn’t answering her phone.
Finally, after he’d been standing there ten minutes, he saw her walking up the street towards him. She was wearing a simple yellow dress and she looked like a ray of sunshine in gloomy shadow cast by the tatty old pub.
She spotted him and smiled. His stomach lurched, half in anticipation, half in fear. He had no idea how the end of this evening would turn out.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said, sounding a little breathless. ‘Had a bit of a crisis.’
He frowned. ‘Everything okay?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. For now, anyway. But what about you?’ There was concern in her eyes and it made everything about her look soft. ‘You said you needed to talk. Has something happened?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really. Look, this isn’t a great place to chat.’ Loud music was pumping from inside the pub and
noisy party guests kept spilling out or barging their way back in again. ‘There’s that new wine bar a couple of minutes away. Shall we go there?’
The wine bar was also busy, but thankfully, instead of The Glass Bottom Boat’s dingy yard, it had a large garden outside, filled with tables and chairs, potted olive trees and topiaries. They found a recently vacated table in the far corner, just big enough for two. A large row of lavender bushes gave them a little privacy.
‘I still owe you that wine,’ he said, as she sat down.
‘Wine would be lovely.’ She smiled, but he could see the worry in her eyes. It didn’t help that he knew things were going to get even tougher here on in. He headed off to the bar and his nerves grew the whole time he was standing there.
When he returned to the courtyard, Claire was staring into space. To the casual observer, she’d look perfectly content, he supposed, but there was something about the way she was so still that told him things weren’t right. Usually, she looked bright and alert, ready to break into a smile at the slightest opportunity. This evening she looked as if something invisible and heavy was sitting around her shoulders.
He put a glass of questionable Pinot Grigio down in front of her. ‘What was this crisis? Can I do anything to help?’
She inhaled sharply, as if he’d surprised her, and turned to face him. ‘What?’
He sat down and placed his pint on the table. ‘You look as if something is bothering you.’
She shook her head. ‘No. Tonight’s crisis wasn’t mine, thank goodness, but you’re right – I have been feeling a little off-kilter for weeks, but you’re only the second person who’s seen beneath my attempt to cover it up.’
‘Who was the first?’ For some reason he was instantly and intensely jealous of that person.
‘My grandmother’s best friend.’
‘Ah.’ He dialled his memory back, remembered a feisty little old lady who’d often visited Laurie – he’d remembered her name now – and had once given him a flea in his ear for leaving muddy bike tracks in the hallway. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite so jealous any more.
‘So what is this thing you’re trying to cover up?’
She shook her head. ‘I thought I was supposed to be here to listen to your problems, not the other way round.’
‘And I thought friendship was supposed to be a mutual thing, share and share alike?’ Okay, that wasn’t quite the right expression, but she got his meaning. At least, he thought she did, as her elusive smile made a brief appearance.
‘We’re friends?’
Yes, he realised. They were. He nodded.
He wasn’t quite sure how that happened. Usually, he had girlfriends and he had girls who were friends. Women fell into one camp or the other with him. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that Claire had been the one to straddle the line.
His non-verbal answer seemed to be good enough for Claire, because she started to talk. She started to tell him about what she’d done the day before, a visit to a nursing home to meet a man she hadn’t seen in more than twenty years, and then the whole story of her childhood came out, thick and fast.
‘I just can’t seem to stop being angry with him,’ she finished quietly. She’d been staring at the table, and when she looked up at him he could see that her eyes were large and glossy. On instinct, he got up, circled the table to where she was, crouched down and put his arms around her. She burrowed her face into his neck.
For a while they stayed like that, breathing together, and then Claire pulled back. ‘So,’ she said, trying to surreptitiously wipe a bit of moisture away from the corner of her eye with her finger. ‘That’s my life story. Now it’s your turn. Starting with this good news of yours.’
Dominic didn’t answer straight away. For some reason the residual sheen of a mopped-up tear on her cheek hit him like a punch in the gut. He tore his eyes away from that damp patch and refocused.
The words were there in his head – the truth – but he couldn’t seem to unlock his teeth and let them out. He returned to his seat, where he inhaled and then slowly exhaled. ‘My good news is that I don’t have a girlfriend.’ He searched her face, looking for a sign that he hadn’t read her all wrong. ‘At least, I hope that’s good news for you.’
‘Oh.’ Claire couldn’t have looked more shocked if he’d told her he did lion taming in his spare time. ‘You broke up?’ Dominic started feel queasy. ‘Not exactly.’
Okay, this was it. Now or never.
How he wished he had a magic remote control, one that would let him fast-forward over the next few minutes so it would all be over. He leaned forward, made sure he looked Claire squarely in the eyes.
‘I never had a girlfriend.’
Claire almost choked on her wine. ‘You mean you’re a – that you’ve never even …’
‘No! I mean, not that. I mean I have had girlfriends. In the past. Lots of them.’
He closed his eyes. Oh, hell. This was not the clear and precise speech he’d hoped he’d give at this moment. Claire was looking at him, eyebrows raised. He was hoping he could see a glimmer of amusement behind her surprise, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.
He took a deep breath, tried again. ‘I mean that I didn’t have a girlfriend when I came to see you at your shop.’
‘Oh!’ The little wrinkle above her nose deepened. ‘Then why did you say you did?’
There was no way to make himself look good in this scenario, was there? No way to spin it. He might as well just give it to her straight. All his efforts to be clever about it – good news and bad news, and all that rubbish – had only got him into trouble anyway.
‘Actually, I didn’t say that I did. You assumed and I just … Well, I just didn’t correct you.’
Claire looked as if she was trying to do a particularly difficult bit of long division inside her head. ‘Why on earth not?’
He started to laugh, a low, dry sound, and the worst possible thing he could do at that moment, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. ‘Because booking a trip was a good excuse to see you again, but I didn’t realise you specialised in romantic holidays, so when you said that, it kind of caught me on the hop.’ He shielded his eyes with his hand. ‘And I didn’t want you to think I was a complete idiot, so I just went along with it.’
Claire folded her arms. ‘And how did that work out for you?’
He removed his hand from his eyes and looked at her. ‘Fabulously. Can’t you tell?’
His attempt at a bit of self-deprecating humour fell completely flat. Claire just blinked. Her arms remained firmly crossed.
‘Listen, I know it was stupid thing to do and I know I should have told you sooner – I even tried to the day I bumped into you at the newsagent’s, but you got called away …’ He paused, took a breath. Collected himself. ‘But I like you, Claire, and there’s more to the story. I wanted you to see I wasn’t such an idiot before I came clean and you started looking at me the way you are now.’
Claire’s eyeballs moved side to side, as if she was replaying images and conversations inside her head.
‘I’m sorry I lied to you, Claire, even by omission. You know me well enough by now to know that sometimes I jump into things with both feet without always thinking. I don’t do it because it’s part of some big master plan.’ He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I do it because I’m a total numpty.’
There. Right there. One corner of her lips twitched a microscopic amount. He had no idea why his total and utter humiliation pleased this woman so much. If he was sensible, he ought to run screaming from the pub right now. However, he’d already proved quite nicely that he was nothing of the sort.
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. For a moment, he thought she was going to make a joke, but then she started frowning again. ‘I don’t get it,’ she said slowly. ‘All those emails … All those questions I sent you! If this girlfriend of yours was a complete invention, who the heck were you talking about?’
He exhaled again and his shoulder
s sagged. ‘You.’
Claire froze, her eyes wide.
Dominic didn’t know what to make of that. When she didn’t move, didn’t speak, he decided to give her some space. He walked away to the back of the garden, where there was a small raised flowerbed full of plants that smelled nice in the warm evening breeze.
A moment later, he heard movement behind him. He turned round and found Claire standing there. He couldn’t read the expression on her face. She didn’t look confused any more, but she didn’t look cross either. He was just wondering what stupid thing would come out of his mouth next when she saved him from himself.
She did that by stepping forward, closing the distance between them and kissing him.
*
Claire had not planned on doing this. But here she was, kissing Nick, and she had to say she wasn’t regretting her decision much. If at all.
After a second of frozen surprise, his arms had come round her and she’d leaned into him. It had been a long time since she’d kissed or been kissed. The last man had been Philip, and he’d always been a little bit full on – too clingy, too affectionate. Maybe she’d felt that way because there had always been a hidden agenda with him. A kiss had never been a simple kiss.
But this kiss right now? Simply lovely.
Because Nick hadn’t hidden anything from her, had he? Not only did she know there was a better man that hid beneath the ‘wandering soul’ persona he used as a disguise so well, but he’d come clean with her, been totally honest. She’d been able to see it in his eyes. Either that, or he’d chosen the wrong profession and should have been a multi-Oscar winning actor instead.
That’s why she’d kissed him. Because she was attracted to him, yes, but also because he was the first man she could remember in a long time who’d willingly let her see beneath his walls. That alone deserved some kind of reward.
When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against his. ‘Wow,’ she whispered softly.
She felt rather than heard his grunt of gruff laughter. ‘You’re not kidding.’