‘I thought you might like one of these.’
‘What is it?’
‘Vodka and cranberry…with a hint of something blue, of course. I think they said it was blackcurrant…’
Rachel wasn’t impressed. ‘Why couldn’t you have just got her another glass of wine instead of going for the glorified Ribena option?’ She turned to Lizzie to apologise for Matt. Lizzie could have punched her.
‘Sorry. Hope you like it. He never has been very good at following orders.’ She threw back her head and laughed conspiratorially before raising her eyes to heaven. ‘Cheers, anyway.’ She raised her glass.
It was the final straw. Lizzie couldn’t bear the way Rachel was treating him—and besides, cranberries reminded her of the Christmas party. She sipped her drink and turned to thank him.
‘How lovely. One of my favourites. Thanks, Matt.’
He almost blushed.
‘You might remember jobs and pets. I never forget what a girl likes to drink.’
They both laughed. For a split second it was as if Rachel wasn’t there. Only she was. Staring. Silent. Her eyes were cold, her mouth tightly closed, a horizontal line on her otherwise beautiful face. Matt looked shocked as he realised the implications of his comment. Rachel stared at Lizzie, then at Matt, then at Lizzie again. She looked as confused as a cat watching tennis on television.
Relaxed by the alcohol, Lizzie decided that Rachel deserved some sort of explanation. She was feeling so guilty that her hormones simply took over, and it didn’t look as if Matt was going to say anything.
‘Rachel, I can explain…’ Could she? Lizzie wished she felt as confident as she had just sounded. ‘I have met Matt before. We had a drink together at the City FM Christmas party. I just didn’t put two and two together when he arrived this evening and you introduced us. He must have looked different back then. More hair, more weight…something…’
‘Oh.’ What the hell was going on? Lizzie was trying far too hard and Matthew had just begun a detailed study of his shoes. ‘So when did you realise that you knew each other?’
‘To be honest I thought he looked vaguely familiar when he first came over, but I wasn’t quite sure where I’d seen him before. You know how it is…I meet so many people in the course of my job. Then as we were chatting I gradually realised, and the drink thing sealed it for me. We ended up debating the popularity of cranberry juice at the party but we’d both had a skinful and that was…’ There was a pause while Lizzie counted the months on her fingers. ‘Well, nearly five months ago.’ Was it really? Lizzie had surprised herself.
Matt joined in. Not a moment too soon in Lizzie’s opinion.
‘Chill out, Rach. I dread to think how many men have bought you drinks at office parties and you don’t see me getting my knickers in a twist. So Lizzie didn’t remember me at first. Can’t say I blame her. I’m hardly Mr Memorable, am I?’
Chill out? God, it annoyed her when he tried to do ‘street’. At his age it just seemed so try-hard. She had a few questions, but he could wait.
They returned, somewhat stiltedly, to their small talk.
Lizzie was relieved that Matt’s self-deprecation seemed to have pacified Rachel. It looked as if they’d got away with it and, heart pounding, Lizzie decided that it was time to excuse herself. She conspicuously checked her watch.
‘Look, I’d better get on. I’ve still got to try and track down Melissa and introduce myself before I leave. Rachel, it’s been great to finally meet you.’ She leant towards Rachel and kissed her on the cheek. Very media. But a handshake seemed inappropriate somehow. Rachel didn’t pull away. The conversation ended more or less as it had begun, if a little less effusively.
‘So, see you for dinner in a few weeks, then?’
‘Sure. That’d be great. I’ll e-mail you nearer the time.’ As if. She’d start thinking of her next excuse just as soon as she got home.
‘Any special requests? Anything you don’t eat?’
‘I think I pretty much eat everything—usually all at the same time…’
Matt was suffering with déjà-vu.
‘Bye, Matt. Nice to meet you…again. Sorry I didn’t recognise you at first, it just took a bit of time to place that face… Mr Memorable. I’ll remember next time. Good luck with everything.’
Instinctively she leant forward and kissed his…cheek. Bonus point for Ms Ford. Luckily Matt had helped by moving his cheek into the casual acquaintance position. Lizzie was really flustered and, again, it was all her own doing. She could feel Rachel watching her. Matt took over. He was remarkably calm. No mean feat considering that he’d had more surprises to deal with than Lizzie this evening.
‘Thanks…and you. Maybe we’ll run into each other at City some time. Next time just make sure you remember where you’ve seen me before.’ Matt smiled at her mischievously. He was incorrigible.
Inwardly Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief, silently promising the goddess of gym membership that from this day forward she’d be a good girl, exercise regularly and drink two litres of still water every day if she could just leave now, her reputation intact.
But Rachel wasn’t about to let her husband have the last word.
‘Oh, and Lizzie…?’
‘Yes?’
‘You know… Um…this is going to sound daft after all I’ve said…um…but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell too many people…well, anyone really…about how we know each other. It’s just that—well, you know—people might not understand.’
Rachel thought back to an effusive Will, strutting around her office, mocking Lizzie’s letters page. He was one of the people that she never wanted to find out.
‘No problem. Confidentiality is my career.’
‘Great. Thanks.’ Rachel gave Lizzie a mildly irritating insincere media wink as she was gratefully swallowed up by the rapidly expanding crowd.
Lizzie marched to the loos as assertively as she could and had barely locked the cubicle door behind her before the tears started. She wasn’t sure why she was crying. Guilt? Relief? Unrequited love? Once the pent-up emotion had been released, she pulled herself together quickly, splashed some cold water onto her burning cheeks, took a deep breath, re-applied some eyeliner and prepared to re-enter the fray in search of Melissa Matthews.
She would’ve preferred to head straight for the sanctuary of her sofa, but the spirit of Robyn Summers was nudging her into action. It probably wasn’t a bad thing. It would only look odd if she left this early.
As she applied a self-protective coat of lipgloss, Lizzie wondered if she and Matt had got away with it. She didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Rachel burst through the door which, at the receiving end of her fury, smacked loudly into the wall, and marched straight up to Lizzie, only just stopping short of pinning her up against the wallpaper. A lone hand-washer left hurriedly, without bothering to dry or thinking to stay and watch. The difference in Rachel couldn’t have been any greater. She’d gone from charming to civil to psycho in minutes.
The goddess of gym membership had obviously run a check on Elizabeth Ford of 56 Oxford Road only to discover that she’d previously promised regular attendance and higher intake levels of non-alcoholic and decaffeinated fluids in return for a favour, only to rescind on her side of the bargain once she was out of harm’s way.
‘What the fuck do you think you’ve been playing at?’
It looked as if a lucky escape was no longer on the cards. Lizzie was terrified. An instant headache thumped into her temples and a surge of nausea swept up from her stomach like a giant tsunami. She didn’t bother mentioning it to Rachel. She sensed that she wasn’t in a sympathetic mood.
‘Ah…umm…’
It was a pathetic display of inarticulacy from someone who was supposed to do communication for a living, but she didn’t know where to start. Rachel was only too happy to take over. Lizzie braced herself.
‘Why the hell didn’t you and Matthew tell me that you knew each other when I first introduced yo
u?’
That one was relatively easy. She just had to go over what she’d told her earlier. She employed the tried and tested repeat-the-question-to-give-yourself-a-little-bit-more-time-before-answering tactic, to calm herself down and regain her composure. She was sure it was still around here somewhere.
‘Why didn’t I tell you that Matt and I had met before? Well, um… As I said out there, it took me a few minutes to realise that he was the same guy I’d met at the Christmas party. I didn’t recognise him at first. And it was all out of context. I was expecting to meet your husband. I didn’t expect your husband to be someone I’d ever met before. We only spent that one evening together, and the party was nearly five months ago.’
‘OK, so you pass the memory test. But don’t patronise me. Something’s going on here and I think it’s only fair that you tell me what it is.’
Lizzie re-adopted the mute approach and shrugged her shoulders, as if confused. Unfortunately it only seemed to augment Rachel’s irritation.
‘Listen, I’m not an idiot. Something was going on out there. I’ve just asked Matt for an explanation and he told me to “simmer down”. Simmer down, I tell you. I’m not a fucking pan. And this from a word-man. No wonder he’s still small fry. I expected more from him, and I certainly expected a lot more from you. You two have done a lot more than just meet before, haven’t you? You conniving bitch. Not so fucking saintly after all, are you? You must think I’m stupid.’
Rachel was going out on a limb. It was only a hunch at this stage, but the eyes had it. She was bloody well going to be proved right, and if there was one occasion in her life that Rachel had wished she was wrong, it was right now. Molten hysteria bubbled in her ears.
Lizzie thanked the powers that be that she was British and that no one in Kensington was allowed to carry a gun to parties. Had she been in America she feared that she would currently be sliding down the designer-papered walls of the Ladies’ leaving a dark red trail of her own blood behind her. Rachel was certainly angry enough.
They say that you never know how you will react to a crisis until you are knee-deep in one. Curiously, Lizzie’s brain seemed to have closed down. Before it did, though, it had chosen to flag up its most relevant saying from deep in its recesses. The archivist had obviously been busy. ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ was currently playing on a loop in Lizzie’s head.
Lizzie could well believe it, but right now she needed to be paying attention. Hell also hath no fury like a woman who isn’t being listened to in the heat of the moment. It might have been a less well-known epithet but it was just as true and, faced with Rachel Baker on the brink of eruption, Lizzie went into automatic pacifying mode. She’d never really understood why two people couldn’t just sit down and talk things through. The trouble being that if you tried to quieten down someone who liked a good old shout you were in danger of making things worse than they had been at the outset. From her current display Lizzie suspected that Rachel was a shouter. Still, it was worth a try.
‘Listen, Rachel. I’m sorry you’re so upset, and I’m sorry if it’s my fault, but I think there’s been a misunderstanding.’ Too many sorrys, perhaps? Too late now.
‘Please, calm down and I’ll try and explain. It’s not as bad as you think.’ Unfortunately in order for Lizzie the Pacifier to be successful she had also become Lizzie the Liar. Not as bad as you think. Who was she trying to kid? It couldn’t get much worse.
Rachel folded her arms. ‘Go on, then.’
The truth beckoned, and it wasn’t going to sound any better in ten minutes’ time when her current flight of fancy fell flat on its face. Lizzie blinked hard and took a deep breath before punching her next few sentences out as fast as she could.
‘Look—it’s been over for a long time, and I didn’t know he was married at the time we met. And I certainly didn’t know he was married to you. I know it all sounds a little too convenient, but I can explain.’ It was all true, even if Lizzie had to admit it did sound pathetic out loud. She waited to see what happened next. She was never doing this again. No orgasm was worth what she was going through right now.
‘What’s the extent of the “it” we’re talking about here?’
Lizzie was floored. What she really needed to do was confer with Matt quickly, just to get their stories straight, but Rachel obviously wasn’t going anywhere until she had more information.
‘Look, Rachel, as I said earlier, Matt and I have met before. Several times. Well, we’ve more than met. It all sounds so calculated now, but believe me nothing could have been planned any worse. It’s true…’ Lizzie looked crestfallen ‘…we had a brief liaison.’ In this situation Lizzie didn’t feel the need to be one hundred per cent honest about the duration or the intensity of their three-month relationship. ‘But it’s been over for a long time. I made a mistake. He made a mistake. I’m so sorry. If it’s any consolation—and I doubt it is—my life will never be the same again. I hate myself for what’s happened. I only hope that there’ll come a time when you’ll be able to see things from my point of view and forgive me.’ Lizzie knew it was a tall order, but right now she had nothing left to lose.
Rachel was quiet—too quiet, for too many seconds. Lizzie was praying that someone would interrupt them. There must be a few hundred people drinking out there. One of them must have a bladder that needed emptying. The suspense was too much to bear. Lizzie was almost relieved when Rachel started to scream and shout.
‘Too right your life will never be the same again,’ Rachel exploded. Lizzie couldn’t blame her, but it didn’t stop her from promptly bursting into tears. It made no difference to Rachel, who had apparently stockpiled a battery of expletives, threats, rhetorical questions and insults during Lizzie’s last speech.
Rachel couldn’t believe it. Less than two hours earlier she’d been applying lipstick. Now she was involved in a showdown with her guest of honour in the ladies’ loo. It was too unbelievably downmarket for words. Not the sort of thing she did. But she couldn’t help herself; she had to finish her off. No one was going to break her marriage up.
‘How can you hold your head up high and have the audacity to call yourself an agony aunt? How can you believe that you’re helping people when you’re probably causing as many problems as you solve? Did you really think you’d be able to get away with this? Did you?’
Lizzie shook her head, thankful for the veil of tears that now meant she couldn’t see Rachel clearly. The blurred version was scary enough.
‘Where was your precious “code of ethics” when you were humping my husband?’
Lizzie grimaced. Rachel made it sound like a cheap porn flick. Or, worse still, Carry on Copywriter. Lizzie was sure she could hear the ‘uck-uck-uck’ laugh of Sid James, sinisterly ricocheting off the inside off her skull.
Rachel was only just warming up. Nothing that Clare had said to her had prepared Lizzie for this level of hurt. Her feelings of guilt were only making the pain more acute.
‘I can’t believe it. You fucking bitch. After everything I’ve told you. I confided in you. I opened up to you. I trusted you. There I am, worrying that my husband was having an affair, and it was you all along. To think that you get paid to advise people for a living when you can’t even organise your own life properly! It’s fucking ridiculous. Do you really think you deserve to get paid for screwing your readers’ husbands?’
Rachel, in Lizzie’s very humble opinion, was managing to make her sound a lot worse than she was. It wasn’t as if she made a habit of this. Plus, she kept reminding herself, as soon as she had known that Matt was married to Rachel she’d done the right thing. The trouble was, now she could see what Clare had meant. It shouldn’t have mattered who Matt’s wife was. She should have ended it after that night at the Atlantic. Not that it would have changed the way Rachel saw any of this at the moment. Sex was sex. Sex with someone else’s husband was an affair. Even if Lizzie didn’t know about the husband bit? Somehow it seemed a bit childish to bring it up ag
ain. She was in The Wrong, with a capital T and a capital W.
Rachel was still ranting, and now turned as if to address a crowd. Thankfully for Lizzie it was an imaginary one.
‘Ask Lizzie?’ Rachel scoffed. ‘What a joke. Why fucking bother? She lives her own life by a very different set of rules.’
Lizzie resisted the urge to retaliate. She figured it was probably better for Rachel to get it all out. At least she hadn’t confessed that she’d loved Matt, that he’d loved her, and that she’d made the ultimate sacrifice to save Rachel’s marriage. She didn’t think Rachel would appreciate her generosity of spirit at this juncture. ‘I know how it looks—’
‘You have no idea how it looks. You’ll live to regret this, I can assure you. You’re a two-faced, lying hypocrite and I’m sure all the other people who pin their hopes on you, who write in, who call up and who e-mail you, would love to know what you’re really like. And who was that charming woman I spoke to the other day? Susan? Yes, I’m sure Susan would love to know what you’ve been up to. I can see the front page of the tabloids now… “Agony aunt beds husband of heartbroken woman who writes in for advice because she suspects her husband is having an affair…” You haven’t just let me down, you’ve let yourself down—and all the people you offer hope to. I had come to regard you as a friend—and I’m sure I’m not the first.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ It was all Lizzie could manage. And she was. Very, very sorry.
Rachel was pacing. Something about her movements was reminiscent of a caged animal. ‘It’s so humiliating. To think that I was pouring out my personal problems to you while you were probably still warm from your sex sessions with my husband.’
Sex sessions? Now, hang on. Lizzie was sure that she had never had a ‘sex session’ in her life. Interesting, too, that Rachel was humiliated rather than heartbroken. Lizzie was beginning to wonder whether Rachel wasn’t enjoying the drama of the whole situation just a little too much. But she stopped herself. She was the one who had been sleeping with someone else’s husband. Rachel was entitled to be livid. She was sure she’d do her crying later, behind a closed door somewhere, when the shock wore off.
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