Pretenders. The

by Zaza, Agatha

  She exhaled and smiled briefly at her husband. The house is just dirty, she told herself, why is that so important? So they’re between housekeepers.

  But it was more than that, Anne thought, and looked at Jasper. If Jasper knew anything about his brother’s personal life, if he had an explanation for Edmund’s pyjamas and dirty house, he would not have brought them here unannounced.

  ‘Anne’s going to be my maid-of-honour,’ Holly was saying to Edmund. ‘Aren’t you?’ she glanced at Anne.

  ‘Of course I am,’ Anne replied quickly, falling into the conversation, desperate to cover up for obtruding into their home. ‘And the guys are all going to wear morning suits. We can put Edmund in charge of that.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Edmund said. ‘I’m sure you can sort everything out. I’ll just show up.’

  Once again, he smiled, a forced smile. He had to be thinking of Ovidia, maybe considering going after her, but he, like his brother, seemed compelled to stay.

  ‘No way — you’ll be in it from beginning to end,’ Holly insisted. ‘Everyone will have a task to carry out. That way everyone feels involved.’

  ‘You should draw up a master plan,’ John said. ‘A spreadsheet with everyone’s names, deliverables, and date of completion.’

  ‘I know you’re joking, but that’s actually a good idea,’ Holly said.

  Anne laughed, as did Edmund. The sound of only the two of them made Anne immediately uncomfortable, and she stopped.

  ‘I hate spreadsheets,’ Holly said.

  ‘You should ask Ovidia to do it for you,’ Edmund said, looking up as Ovidia joined them again. ‘Implementation plans are her thing. She can make spreadsheets with her eyes closed.’

  ‘Well, Ovidia will be there, too,’ Holly said. Anne wondered if this was a question or an order.

  Ovidia returned to the stool beside Edmund. Her face seemed drawn, as if she’d aged in the half hour since she’d left the room.

  ‘The wedding?’ Ovidia joined in the conversation. ‘It depends on when it is — do you know yet? I’m going to take a few months off. I have this big plan to travel this year — like a late gap year. I’ve ordered pizza. I hope you don’t mind. We don’t entertain much, so we’re not really equipped with, um, food and things.’

  Anne watched as Ovidia shook her head as if to clear it. Her speech was rapid and indecisive, and Anne was left wondering if Ovidia had, in fact, ordered any pizza.

  ‘They might like pot noodles,’ Edmund suggested, taking Ovidia’s hand as she sat down.

  ‘Really? You don’t entertain? This is a lovely place for it — built for it,’ Anne said. It reminded her of the kitchen extension she’d desperately wanted, sleek and contemporary, yet retaining some of the ’70s charm that had appealed to them when they bought it. The extension they had built, that they’d endured weeks of inconvenience for, eating microwaved meals and washing their dishes in the bathroom for, had turned out no more than a dull conservatory. John had complained that the furnishing she’d selected was not his style, and they had rowed about everything until, apart from the extra space it gave them, the final effect had been nothing like what she’d envisioned. When the girls had drawn on the freshly painted walls and every nook was filled with toys, she’d said nothing. ‘Clean, sleek,’ she finished.

  ‘A bit child unfriendly,’ John said. ‘Don’t get me wrong. To every man his style, but I can just imagine the girls breaking their necks on that flooring.’ He was speaking to Anne when he said this.

  ‘John, don’t be rude,’ Anne replied under her breath.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry about the extension, all right,’ he whispered back. ‘We should have agreed everything before.’

  ‘John, stop,’ Anne said, louder.

  Edmund stroked the back of his head and shifted his weight in his seat. Anne watched as Ovidia glanced at the floor and then away, and then looked back to Edmund.

  ‘I know,’ Jasper said. ‘We could hold the engagement party here, since it’s so perfect for entertaining.’ He hadn’t spoken for a while, and the sound of his voice jarred, as if he’d leapt in from a far-off room. He leaned forward, glaring at Edmund.

  Holly’s eyes lit up. Anne made eye contact and shook her head. It seemed to her an awful idea. Though the house seemed like the perfect location — its address, its size, its owner’s status, were all perfect — Anne could tell Jasper’s suggestion was a challenge of some kind, a test. Though she knew she didn’t have enough information about whatever it was that Edmund and Ovidia were involved in, what issue they were facing, she could see that this was the wrong time for a challenge. She looked at the two of them for validation, noticing how Ovidia’s seat was lower than Edmund’s, enhancing the difference in their height and making Ovidia seem small and submissive.

  She was right, it was a challenge, Anne thought, when Edmund hesitated, seeming distinctly uncertain.

  ‘We’ve never …’ Edmund began, looking at Ovidia for support, but she was gazing into the distance, her expression that of someone whose thoughts were miles away. ‘I suppose we could get an event planner?’

  ‘Ovidia?’ Jasper asked.

  After Edmund tapped her hand lightly, she said, ‘I probably won’t be here.’

  ‘Leaving for your gap year so quickly?’ Jasper said, and Holly started. Anne was also surprised at his rudeness, but Jasper had just learned that his brother had kept a relationship from him for four years — she was surprised that Jasper hadn’t marched out of the house in anger.

  ‘Yes, I was thinking of leaving on Thursday,’ Ovidia replied, her gaze directed above their heads, as if she wasn’t really conversing with them.

  Anne saw Edmund flinch. Jasper leaned back into his seat with a smug look on his face. As if something pleased him about Ovidia leaving so abruptly.

  Anne was trying to analyse whatever it was in Jasper’s demeanour that was wrong. His performance was imperfect — the Jasper she knew, when under stress, cracked or exploded. He disappeared, he ranted, he cried, he imbibed wine until incomprehensible and unsteady. He didn’t lean back and try to act as if everything was all right. Everyone else was too preoccupied to recognise it. Ovidia talking about going on gap years, Edmund lost in pyjamas, Holly focused on her impending marriage, and John. John should have been able to see it, but he too was distracted. Anne could see the way he tapped his fingers along the side of his leg, ran his fingers up and down the trousers seams along his thighs, and the way he held her gaze for too long and too intensely — like he did when he lied to her, or when he was trying to seduce her when she’d already said no.

  ‘Wonderful, where to?’ John asked, his fingers abruptly ending their journey.

  ‘But you could wait just a couple of weeks, couldn’t you?’ Holly directed her question at Edmund as if she expected him to tell Ovidia to change her plans.

  ‘I could, but I don’t want to,’ Ovidia replied firmly. Then she crossed her legs and looked at her audience. ‘I’m planning to go to Ghana — where my dad’s from.’ This time the words stumbled out. ‘I’ve only visited it once with my parents when I was a child. We sat outdoors with my aunts and uncles, went down to the beach, played with my cousins, and talked and talked and talked late into the evening. And I’ve had this idea,’ she leaned forward, ‘about designing an engineering boot camp for girls. Then again, I might just hang out in the sun.’

  ‘Ghana,’ John said. ‘Sounds perfect — but it won’t be the same though.’

  ‘I know,’ Ovidia replied.

  ‘I grew up in Singapore,’ John went on. ‘Went back after nearly twenty years and couldn’t stand the place. Even the heat was nothing like I remembered. It was oppressive, and it rained all the time. I’d romanticised it, made it perfect in my memory. All my friends had moved on, places I loved had been bulldozed over.’ He shrugged.

  Anne had gone with him. They’d left London excited at the prospect of visiting such an exotic place. But almost as soon as they got there, he’d begun
to complain.

  ‘Well, that wasn’t here when I lived here,’ he’d said at every turn and, ‘But now it’s all so touristy.’

  She remembered how his constant griping had begun to grate. It had been so unlike him. He’d seemed angry at the city for changing. Since then, she’d come to understand that he’d gone looking for something, or someone, specific, that he expected it to be there waiting for him.

  Halfway through their trip, Anne had turned to him and barked, ‘What is wrong with you?’

  ‘Nothing.’ His voice had been too loud, his tone too aggressive. He’d softened his stance. ‘Nothing,’ he’d repeated quietly and then paused. ‘It’s just as if everyone, every friend I had, has vanished.’

  Anne had massaged his shoulder, having guessed but never discussed how a childhood spent with nomadic parents moving from country to country and even cities within a state had left him with few people with whom he shared memories of his youth. They’d never talked about the many transient friendships made and lost in his lifetime. Sometimes she’d sense his disbelief when she talked about people she’d known since her first day at school, or when she’d introduce him to someone she’d known for twenty-five years.

  Nonetheless, he’d kept moaning about the city, and Anne’s patience had become strained, exacerbated by the extremes of the humid heat and the powerfully cold air conditioning. She’d been pregnant, and their first born — they’d not yet known it would be a girl — had started kicking while she was alone in their hotel room and John was out. She’d immediately sent him a text, excited, and he’d replied, ‘Wonderful. Don’t forget we’re roaming.’

  He’d returned to their hotel room that night, late, traces of another woman on his clothes and in the way he turned away from her in bed, feigning drunkenness. She’d lain in bed, staring at the sterile, glossy furniture that filled the bland space. They’d spent a week more in Singapore — both hating everything about it.

  Then they’d returned to London. As soon as the door closed behind them, she’d turned and slapped him as hard as she could, surprised at her own strength when he fell back against the door, briefly stunned. Anne had walked away, restraining the boiling hatred that was frothing within her, holding down the simmering need to scream and hit him again and again and harder. She’d never before imagined hitting someone, certainly not a man, and definitely not her partner. Sometimes she looked at her hand and wondered how she’d stopped herself from carrying on.

  ‘Daydreaming?’ John asked, elbowing her gently. He topped up her wine, not offering anyone else a refill, and caught her eye.

  ‘Something about her gives me the creeps,’ he whispered.

  ‘John!’ Anne hissed, but no one else seemed to have heard. ‘Jasper,’ she whispered back to John, ‘is in pain.’

  ‘I know,’ John said, before saying much louder, ‘By the way, we probably should take the girls somewhere special tomorrow, so don’t have too much to drink.’

  19

  ‘What’s the urgency?’ Holly demanded, her forehead furrowed in annoyance. ‘Does it have to be right away — if it’s not a family anniversary, can’t it wait?’

  Ovidia didn’t answer, squinting thoughtfully out of the glass ceiling at some birds as they passed. Holly was annoyed for a moment. She felt Ovidia was shrugging her off. But Ovidia was Edmund’s partner, she had to be at his brother’s wedding, she thought. What was wrong with these two?

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Holly,’ Jasper said, placing his hand on her shoulder. ‘There are a thousand places we can have an engagement party.’ The warmth of his hand reassured her, and she clutched it. He was right, they could have it anywhere. What was important was that they were to be married. She exhaled, still tense. It was uncomfortable having found out that Edmund was in a relationship by walking in on him. But Jasper seemed to be dealing with it, though he was a little on edge, she could tell. He couldn’t sit still. She could sense the rise and fall of his mood through his posture; one minute he’d be as stiff as a board, the next his limbs would be loose, his arms heavy at his side. He was still here, though. If he was really upset, he’d have left, wouldn’t he?

  Edmund and Ovidia seemed like such nice people, though maybe a little off. It would have been nice to leave and come back when Edmund was better — who wants to have a bunch of people parked in your house when you’re quite clearly ill? But the wine had made her even more joyous than when she’d arrived this morning. She wasn’t going to ruin her own day by wandering into the city and looking for some other means of celebrating her engagement.

  ‘So, Edmund, how’s work?’ Holly heard John cut in like a reluctant onlooker breaking up a fight. ‘Still in the city?’

  ‘Still,’ Edmund replied. Holly got the impression he was amused. ‘And it’s still as dull as it’s ever been.’

  Her tension relieved, Holly giggled. Anne chuckled. John appeared confused, as though he hadn’t expected that response. Jasper had described Edmund’s work as seeming to consist primarily of flying to exotic locations to talk to people about money, but he said that Edmund loved his job — that he’d found what he was destined to do.

  ‘Your job’s dull? Weren’t you in Seoul only just after Christmas, and New York just before? If I get to go down the road for my work, it’s excitement redefined,’ John complained.

  ‘Seoul — really?’ Holly said.

  ‘That was Tokyo. Two weeks of talking through a translator, being repeatedly assailed by something called a Pikachu, and sleeping in a room the size of a large wardrobe. I don’t think it stopped raining even for a second — oh yes, really exciting,’ Edmund replied. ‘I’d much rather have been at home.’

  ‘If you don’t like it, then why don’t you quit and do something that excites you?’ Anne suggested. ‘Run a charity or something?’

  ‘What could possibly be exciting about running a charity? They don’t make any money.’

  Holly found it difficult to tell if Edmund was joking. ‘I do what I do because I make a lot of money. I haven’t done dishes or laundry in years. I haven’t had to worry about my car breaking down or if my kids will …’ He broke off. ‘And, I can afford to make sure my brother and his wife have their dream wedding,’ he continued.

  Holly was taken aback, interpreting it as an offer. Even with Jasper, she’d never considered realising her dream wedding, one in which everything she wanted — her dress, the venue, the menu — was exactly like the pictures she stored on Pinterest. Perhaps because she was, to a certain extent, realistic. She knew that dreams — winning the lottery, being a D-cup, or having a job that involved flying to various parts of the world to meet designers and models — tended to remain dreams. Instead, she moved within the realm of what was possible: meeting local celebrities and mid-level writers in trendy but reasonably priced cafés that had been featured in local magazines. She went to book launches and to Paris or Reykjavik for long weekends, and she owned a one thousand-pound painting that hung in her and Jasper’s living room and was dramatic enough to be commented on by everyone who entered their flat. She’d always dreamed affordable dreams; she wouldn’t know what to do with someone else’s money.

  ‘Speaking of jobs — what do you do Ovidia?’ John asked. Everyone had fallen silent again. It seemed the job of filling in silences had fallen on him and Anne. Jasper spoke only occasionally, and Holly was finding it hard to find anything to say. She was beginning to feel as if this gathering had lost its focus: her and Jasper getting married. She didn’t want to come across as over eager, she knew sometimes she did.

  ‘Hey, Ovidia,’ Edmund said softly as he touched her knee, rubbing his forefinger gently on the skin of her knee. ‘Listening?’

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  Edmund’s touch seemed to bring Ovidia back from wherever her attention had wandered.

  ‘John asked what you do?’ he said quietly.

  ‘I’m in financial management. I …’ Ovidia trailed off as if an explanation was beyond her. ‘Or …’ she
started.

  ‘Edmund said you were the queen of spreadsheets?’ John said.

  Holly nodded. ‘It would really help with the wedding planning if we could have someone organised like that.’ She wanted to lead the conversation back to the wedding.

  Still Ovidia didn’t reply, appearing more disorientated.

  After a pause, John leaned forward and said quietly to Edmund, ‘Again, if this is a bad time for you guys, we can …’ he began.

  Holly thought his suggestion made sense. There was clearly something wrong with Edmund and now Ovidia. The difference between the woman who had so suavely introduced herself that morning and the fidgeting, distracted person before them now was noticeable. She saw Jasper had gripped a cushion and gone pale.

  Edmund could just take her inside, Holly thought. Ovidia looked as if she needed to lie down. Edmund leaned over to Ovidia and whispered. Holly, despite herself, strained to listen but couldn’t make out what Edmund said to her. She saw Ovidia shake her head and then, after Edmund spoke again, she heard Ovidia whisper ‘Okay’ and nod.

  ‘Make you a cup of tea?’ Edmund asked, loud enough for the rest to hear.

  ‘I’m all right.’ Ovidia put her hand on his shoulder as if to steady herself.

  It was strange how, now that Jasper knew about the two of them, they were now completely blatant about their relationship, whispering and touching each other, she thought. It was as if there was no real reason he hadn’t told Jasper, or whatever the reason had been just didn’t matter anymore.

  They all lapsed into silence again. Holly hoped they would nurture the quiet for a little while and allow Ovidia to recover, but the silence once again felt oppressive. When John cleared his throat, a sense of relief flooded through Holly as if he’d given them all permission to relax.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a cup myself,’ John said, slapping his hands against his thighs and leaning forward as if he meant to make it himself.

  ‘You know, I could do with some tea, too,’ Anne said, a hand on John’s shoulder. ‘If you just point me the right way, I can make it.’