The Last Word

by A. L. Michael

  ‘It’s OK…a little plain for my tastes. But perhaps with your body shape, simple is better.’

  Tabby gritted her teeth. ‘I think you’re right. Shall I try it on?’

  ‘Yes, all right. I’ll go find you a little bolero to go with it. Do you have fur in that matching purple?’ Claudia asked the sales girl, who looked rather confounded, but led her back to the main room.

  ‘Tabitha, don’t drink that champagne, too many calories!’ she heard her mother call, and downed the glass in one.

  ‘Too late, sorry!’ She shrugged when Claudia poked her head back in to retrieve the glass.

  ‘Hmm.’

  She changed into the lifesaver dress, which was still not her colour or style, but was definitely a step up from the fluffy monstrosity. She got out her phone to text Harry: Bridesmaid dress is terrible. I look like a dessert. T x

  His response was immediate: I’ve been telling you you’re good enough to eat. I’ll prove it later. H x

  Tabby grinned to herself and put the phone back into her bag.

  ‘What are you looking so pleased about?’ Claudia pulled back the curtain and surveyed her again. ‘Yes, fine, it’ll do. I just want to get out of here now. They’re ordering the fur edging, and I was thinking lace gloves. You need a little bit of bling.’

  Tabby rolled her eyes. ‘If you want bling, buy me a pretty pair of earrings.’

  ‘I’m buying you quite enough as it is. I thought you said you had a new job. Does that mean I can finally stop supporting you?’

  Tabby pulled back the curtain and started getting changed back into her regular clothes.

  ‘Well, they’re going to offer me a permanent position. I’m considering it. If that’s the case, you could probably stop. I do really appreciate your help, though.’

  She reappeared, and Claudia seemed partially mollified. ‘Why are you only considering it? You said it was a good job?’

  ‘It is, I really enjoy it, it’s exactly what I wanted.’

  ‘So…?’

  ‘I don’t want to make any rash decisions, that’s all. I’m trying to be adult about big choices these days.’

  Claudia looked as if she was going to say something, possibly list any of the times Tabby had made a bad decision, but instead she just tucked a curl of hair behind her daughter’s ear and said, ‘I think that’s a good idea.’

  Then, before she knew it, Tabby was across town once again, this time in a cocktail bar. The surrogate aunties from throughout the years were all there, loud and overly made-up, tottering in ridiculous heels. She missed the days when all her aunties wore homemade jumpers and thrift-store earrings. Now, post divorce, most of them were out on the prowl for someone just as young as Liam. Claudia Riley was up on the pedestal as the woman who had done it: married, raised a child, had a career, got divorced and found someone young and rich. Claudia Riley was a winner. Shame about her daughter, though.

  Tabby fielded questions about her job, her love life and whether she was really living in a squat with a lesbian. It was then that she decided her job would be getting the drinks in, and making sure her mum was having a good time.

  To be fair, the aunts had chosen the venue, and it wasn’t really Claudia’s style. Tabby expected her mum wanted something like a spa day, or afternoon tea. A few good glasses of wine, and a bit of a giggle. Cocktails in a place where the barmen wore T-shirts saying ‘No one’s ugly after four a.m.’ was not really Claudia’s style.

  There were also presents, and it became increasingly apparent that Aunt Jillian was not the only one who’d found Ann Summers. After four cocktails, however, the look of shock on her mother’s face when she received a goodie bag containing cocktail-flavoured lube was a beautiful thing. As was the response to the female Viagra and a thong for Liam that had a monkey’s face on the pouch.

  After an evening of whooping, screeching and laughing, Tabby escaped unscathed but pretty drunk, amid complaints. ‘She’s off for a fumble!’ Aunt Edna had screeched, and it took the length of the tube journey from Covent Garden to Highgate to eradicate that memory. She stumbled out and tottered down the road to Harry’s, imagining how much better it would be if she could just crawl into Harry’s bed, waking him with her proximity, instead of having to knock loudly, and rush past him, yelling,‘Really need to pee!’

  When she emerged from the bathroom, having tidied up her hair and reapplied her make-up, she took some time to properly look at him. He stood there with a glass of water for her, topless, wearing plaid pyjama bottoms. He took his glasses off and placed them on the side table. She gulped down the water noisily, not taking her eyes from him. He was staring right back at her, grinning.

  ‘God, you’re hot,’ her drunken mouth said automatically, and then she felt herself blush. Harry, to his credit, didn’t laugh, only moved closer until she could feel his body heat radiate, and his hands settled on her hips.

  ‘So are you. Drunk and dishevelled is a good look for you.’ He kissed her neck, down to her collar bone, slipping her coat off of her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

  ‘I’m wearing the same thing I was wearing when you saw me earlier,’ Tabby said in confusion.

  ‘Yes, and I wanted you earlier too.’ He took advantage of her confusion to capture her mouth and start unbuttoning her shirt. ‘I always want you.’

  With the shirt gone, he unzipped her skirt, backing her up against the kitchen table.

  ‘This is where you eat!’ Tabby exclaimed stupidly, as she gripped the table behind her for support, her heels making her unsteady.

  ‘Stop thinking, Tabitha.’ Harry grinned, and proceeded to erase every thought and worry she had.

  ***

  Tabby had discovered that she loved sleeping naked. She loved waking up next to another warm someone who slept naked. She also loved when that other person put out a glass of water for her in the middle of the night, knowing that all the alcohol would dehydrate her.

  She kind of understood why people got drunk and had sex. There was a freedom there. A giggly understanding that sex was a very strange thing, but sometimes you needed it. She also realised that when she was drunk and giggly, she was very willing to take orders from Harry. In daylight, sober hours, taking sexual orders from a man would start a whole part of her brain buzzing with shoulds and shouldn’ts. But drunken in the dark with Harry’s mouth doing wonderful things to her, she had to admit, it turned her on for him to be in control.

  He shuffled closer and slung an arm across her body, his hand resting on her breast.

  ‘Good morning,’ he mumbled, and kissed her neck.

  ‘It is.’ She smiled and snuggled back into him. Suddenly a thought occurred to her, one that would have been normal for anyone else but seemed strange and dangerous to her. She decided, basking in a non-existent hangover and in the wake of multiple orgasms, just to ask.

  ‘Hey Harry?’

  ‘Yes?’ He kissed her neck with more insistence.

  ‘Would you go to my mother’s wedding with me?’

  She felt him shrug against her skin. ‘Sure.’

  ‘That’s it? Sure?’ She rolled over to see him, and caught the dopey grin on his face before he could wipe it off.

  ‘Sure, I’d love to? It would be my absolute pleasure to accompany you, milady? I’m honoured? It’s the morning, what do you want from me?’ But he pulled her closer so she could tell he wasn’t mad.

  ‘No I didn’t mean…I just…people tend to freak out about weddings.’ She tucked her head under his chin.

  ‘Not me, I love weddings.’ Harry traced circles on her shoulder. ‘Cake, booze, family drama. Hot bridesmaids,’ he added. ‘What’s not to like?’

  ‘I’m going to look like a meringue. Or a purple…something. Something bad. Something befitting the situation…’

  ‘The situation?’ Harry yawned.

  ‘Being a twenty-six-year-old bridesmaid at your mother’s wedding to a twenty-eight-year-old.’

  ‘Maybe you could do a
piece on it? For the paper?’ Harry rolled onto his back and pulled Tabby with him. ‘Miss Twisted on the pointlessness of marriage? Why parents shouldn’t wear white? The Toy Boy myth? Desperately Clinging to Youth: The Claudia Riley Story?’

  The thing that made Tabby snort and muffle her laughter in his chest was that he wasn’t joking.

  ‘Ooh, she’d never forgive me!’

  ‘But she’d never read it, would she?’

  ‘You are an evil genius.’

  ‘Or just an excellent editor using you for your writing skills. Amongst other things.’ His hands traced the length of her body, and she felt her cheeks warm at the memories of the night before.

  ‘Yeah, well, I’ll be a vision in taffeta, organza and any other unflattering fabric in various shades of lilac. So it’ll probably just be my writing skills working for me. And my excellent ability to mock.’

  ‘Bet you a tenner I’ll still think you’re shaggable in a meringue dress from hell.’

  She fixed him with her best withering glare. ‘If you can make a girl in an organza bridesmaid dress feel shaggable, they’ll put up monuments in your honour.’

  He raised an eyebrow and nudged her with his hips. ‘Better get building, babe.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Tabby went into the office on Monday, Jenna was there again. She supposed she should feel threatened, or nervous or at least irritated on Harry’s behalf. But really, she was just jealous of her shoes.

  ‘So, Jenna’s here again,’ she said, bounding into Harry’s office and throwing her bag onto the chair.

  ‘Yeah.’ He shrugged and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Seems so.’

  ‘Is this the part where I’m mean to be angry and jealous?’

  ‘I think so. Am I then meant to get defensive and stressed out by the fact that you’re intimidated?’

  Tabby sighed. ‘And then I end up reading too much Cosmo, convince myself you’re sleeping with her and whine about it so much that sleeping with her becomes appealing.’

  ‘And then it all ends in a big finale of tears and drunkenness.’ Harry paused. ‘Or we could just have sex and agree neither of us cares about her.’

  Tabby grinned and stroked his cheek. ‘I like that plan. In all seriousness though, do we know why she’s here?’ Tabby’s brow creased into anxiety. She wasn’t so much jealous as she was worried for Harry’s wellbeing. No, really. The new bra was a completely viable purchase. She didn’t think Harry would go running back to Jenna. She just didn’t necessarily want to stand next to the woman in case he saw how many dress sizes they differed by.

  ‘I believe she wants her old job back.’

  ‘She used to work here?’

  He nodded. ‘An age ago. Or it feels like it anyway. What’s that look?’

  ‘What look?’

  ‘Like you’re working out a particularly difficult equation.’

  Tabby shrugged. ‘What section did she write for?’ Please be fashion, please be fashion.

  ‘International relations.’

  I hate my life. Tabby sighed and barred her teeth. ‘Of course.’

  Harry chuckled, scratching his chin. ‘If it helps, Tabs, she’s a horrible person.’

  Tabby shrugged a little.

  ‘And you’re much better in bed.’

  In his defence, she did smile before throwing a pen at his head.

  ‘Anyway, maiming aside,’ Harry raised an eyebrow, ‘we having lunch today?’

  Tabby shrugged. ‘I’ve got my own stuff to do today: plans, errands. Blah. But tomorrow we should go do something.’

  ‘Something?’

  ‘Something…date-like. I don’t know, you’re the cultured one. We should wander round a gallery or go see the ballet or something. Something that involves clothes, and opinions on something other than writing.’

  ‘Is this the part where you realise you don’t actually know anything about me? And then we spend some time together and you realise I’m not actually that interesting, and am really shallow, and it all ends in tears and drunkenness again?’

  Tabby smiled softly. ‘I also need artistic stimulation, darling. You wouldn’t deny me that, as my editor, would you?’

  ‘I’ll think of something fun with added bits of funness.’ Harry’s smiled lessened and he studied her face. ‘Are you OK today? Do any of these errands include your mother’s wedding?’

  Tabby sighed. ‘A couple. It’s going to be a long day.’

  ‘They’re all long when you’re not here,’ Harry said with a childish look on his face. ‘So…how do you feel about cake analogies?’

  Tabby wasn’t lying when she said she had plans. She had a couple of the errands involving her mother’s wedding, but mostly, they were just things she needed to do. Things she had done every year on this day, for as long as she could remember, and Tabby was committed to tradition. At least this tradition.

  Every year on this day, she would go down and get a bagel from the shop in Golders Green and eat it in Golders Hill Park. Then she’d wander round the Oxfam bookshop in Highgate Village, and not at all chat up the twenty-two-year-old graduate who wanted to be a writer and thought she was amazing. Then there’d be a walk around Highgate cemetery and finally, a drink at the pub on the corner. And she’d buy a really nice glass of red, toast her dad, and hope he finally got everything he wanted.

  It was a self-indulgent day, no doubt, one filled with a sad acceptance, and sweet nostalgia, and an overwhelming belief that everything was really OK. He left a long time ago, but they were fine, no one was hurt, and he wasn’t a bad man. She wished him well. Really.

  Besides, daddy issues were so 2009.

  When Tabby got home, she was faced with a severely strange scenario. Harry was sitting drinking tea with Rhi. They were in the garden and they were laughing. The world was clearly ending.

  ‘So, she decides she’s going to see if she can take off from the ground, because people always decide to jump off buildings. She builds this…contraption out of black bin bags and gaffer tape…looked like a penguin trying to fly. It was the cutest thing ever.’

  Harry cackled and flicked the lighter on a cigarette Rhi handed him.

  ‘What?’ Tabby said, too tired to form full sentences.

  They both turned and smiled at her. Harry reached out a hand to drag her over to them.

  ‘Hey you,’ he pulled her into his lap, ‘it’s good to see you.’

  ‘It’s weird to see you…here…in my house…without me in it.’ Tabby frowned. ‘Also, what’s with the smoking?’

  ‘Bonding experience.’ Rhi shrugged, and Harry shrugged too.

  ‘OK…is this some sort of intervention? Because I haven’t eaten chocolate for three days…’

  Harry and Rhi exchanged a look. ‘No, look, I was slightly worried about you, today, you seemed weird. Plus I missed you, so I thought I’d come by and we could order pizza and watch movies or something.’

  ‘Huh.’ Tabby wasn’t sure whether it was time to be irritated about something, or just collapse with exhaustion and be glad he was there so she could use him as a human pillow. ‘Right…why do I get the distinct feeling you guys have been discussing me, and it’s not just my awesome penguin impersonations?’ She shuffled on Harry’s lap slightly and looked between the two of them for confirmation.

  ‘I just said that this was a day that has meaning for you, beyond the solstice. That was all. And that you might be drunk when you got back.’ Rhi stood and stretched. ‘I have not broken any friend rules, and now I’m off to celebrate the solstice myself.’

  ‘Dance round a maypole?’

  ‘Beer in the park.’ Rhi grinned.

  ‘You have friends I don’t know about?’

  ‘No, I have a conquest you don’t know about. You will soon.’ She gestured to Harry, ‘Deal with yours first.’ She waved and walked back into the house.

  ‘Hey! I’m not a conquest! I’m already quested, or captured or whatever!’ Harry called to Rhi’s retreating back, b
ut settled for squeezing Tabby slightly. ‘So, today’s your Dark Day…’

  Tabby shifted into the seat Rhi had vacated and sighed, stealing the remainder of the cigarette burning away in his fingers. ‘We’re really doing this?’

  ‘Look, I was worried because you didn’t seem yourself, and we were doing all that joking about Jenna, but I thought maybe it was actually bugging you.’

  ‘Jenna’s not bugging me. And even if she was, what does it matter? We’re casual, it shouldn’t matter.’

  Harry frowned. ‘And what does that mean exactly, “casual”?’

  ‘Well, you’re my editor, Harry. I was pretty clear about what happened the last time I got involved with my editor.’

  ‘And I was pretty clear that I’m nothing like him.’ Harry’s jaw clenched, that nerve pulsed and Tabby wondered why she’d ever enjoyed arguing with him, when all it ever did was exhaust her.

  ‘And I’m nothing like her. You think because you downgraded to an average looking girl I’m going to spend all my time being intimidated by her?’

  ‘And you think that because you slept with an arsehole three years ago, every guy you sleep with is out to ruin your life?’ Harry exploded. ‘I am trying to do everything I can to show I care. Do you think I usually drive people on stupid trips to Brighton when I’m mad at them, or unceremoniously drop by so I can ask their friends if something’s up? No. I do it because you’re special. And I’m really fucking tired of being treated like I’m sub human just because I’ve slept with more people than you.’

  Tabby took a moment to process this, and pursed her lips. She knew she was being irrational. She knew, logically, that nothing Harry had done had been wrong. In fact, he had done everything right. That was the problem. She needed Harry to be his normal, casual fling self, so she could leave at the end of her contract. Except now there might not be an end to the contract. And then there wouldn’t be an end to Harry. And then…she might get hurt again.

  Was that it, really? All the anger and stress and irritation, and it was because things were going too well? Hadn’t she spent years bemoaning the lack of good, attractive, funny men who actually liked her? Hadn’t she spent for ever wondering why there was never an easy solution and everything had to be difficult? And hadn’t Harry gone out of his way to be the sweetest and kindness person she knew since they’d got together?