by Karen Swan
‘Hey, Chlo, you okay?’
Noise returned. Colour. Sense.
Kate was standing beside her, holding her by the elbow. The lights had changed and Tom was was already almost at the opposite kerb with Elle. ‘We need to move. The lights are changing.’
‘Oh—’ Chloe let Kate grab her by the elbow and steer her across the road, but she kept twisting back, trying to glimpse one last sight of him.
‘Do you know him?’ Kate asked, following her stare. ‘That guy?’
Chloe looked across at her sister and blinked. What could she possibly say? How could she explain? ‘No, I don’t know him,’ she croaked. ‘I don’t even know his name.’
‘This has to stop, you can’t carry on like this – that thing’s becoming a fire hazard,’ Xan quipped as the cake was carried over to the table, the entire restaurant looking over and singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.
‘Well, the problem is – I’m not sure I much like the alternative to getting older, Xan,’ Chloe grinned as it was set down in front of her, all twenty-seven candles throwing out some serious heat. They were burning down quickly.
‘I don’t think there’s time for you to make a wish,’ he wise-cracked, pretending to look flustered. ‘Quick, just blow them out.’
Chloe laughed and glanced around the table at the flickering faces gathered there – Kate, Tom, Elle, Jack and Xan. The closest she had to a family out here. Poppy too, but of course she couldn’t be here. Not yet. ‘Well before I do, I just want to say, this is my first birthday here and it means so mu—’
‘No, absolutely not, you’re playing with our lives,’ Xan said quickly, blowing them out for her instead. ‘We’ll all be burnt to crisps.’
‘Xan!’ she cried, as everybody laughed, relaxed on good wine and full bellies. It had been a great evening, made even more wonderful by the fact that everyone had managed to keep it a surprise. Chloe had thought they were just having a quiet girls’ night.
Across the table, Tom was watching with a soft-eyed expression. She had already received his present this morning – a deep box of La Perla lingerie (although there was nowhere to store the box in the apartment, and she’d said her drawers were so full, she might need to wear all the underwear at once), a rose-gold Cartier nail bracelet and tickets for the US Open final next month. He’d gone all out on spoiling her (even though she knew he would have received deep discounts on the brands and that the tickets would have been freebies) but she had still felt a twinge of disappointment that his gifts of lingerie and jewellery had been so generic. She had been dropping hints about a small still-life of apples that she’d seen in the window of a gallery in SoHo but he had ignored those, probably on the grounds it wasn’t showy enough.
‘Come on, open your presents now,’ Elle said, clapping her hands, more excited than anyone.
The small collection of gifts had been stacked by the waiters on the shelf behind them and Jack turned round to hand them over.
‘Open mine first. It’s the biggest,’ Elle said.
‘Well, clearly that’s the most important thing,’ Chloe dead-panned, pulling the black ribbon on a pink tissue bundle. The emerald dress she had fallen in love with, but tried to resist for practicality’s sake, fell open in a spray of silk chiffon, blooming against her hands like a rose. ‘Oh, Elle—’
‘Sometimes you need to have something frivolous and beautiful, even if it isn’t the most practical thing. And don’t say you can’t accept it,’ Elle said gruffly. ‘No returns, the lady said. I already checked.’
Chloe smiled, knowing full well the stall owner had said nothing of the sort. ‘You’re so bad. I love it, thank you.’
Elle’s stern face dissolved into the sweetest of smiles as Chloe reached over to hug her.
‘Happy birthday, Miss Marston,’ Xan said with a wicked tone as she picked a small rectangular package from the front of the pile. She took it with a suspicious glance, shaking it lightly. It rattled.
‘Hmm. Should I be worried?’
‘Yes!’
‘Should I open it now or later?’ she asked, seeing how he kept glancing over at Tom with wicked looks; he was still recovering from the shock revelation of not just her and Tom being together but their clandestine relationship history too – she had broken it to him over drinks when she’d returned from France, rather than letting him find out with the rest of the team via the brief but official acknowledgement that she and Tom were together. She hadn’t wanted to go public with the news, not yet, but Jack had insisted – it was the very least they both owed him after all the subterfuge last time and besides, she understood his concern that keeping it secret was doomed to failure and would prove corrosive in the interim. ‘Is this going to embarrass me?’
‘Moi? Embarrass you in public?’
‘So that’s a yes then.’ She lifted the lid and gave a huge groan. ‘Oh God!’
‘What? What is it?’ Kate asked.
Chloe dropped her head in one hand, grinning and blushing as she pulled out a pair of furry handcuffs.
‘Mink, don’t you know,’ Xan said, sounding like a duke, as Jack slapped Tom on the shoulder as though in congratulations. ‘And I got a copy done of the key, just in case you should ever, you know – lose it. Just call me and I’ll come straight over.’
‘Thank you, Xan, so thoughtful,’ she said with a sarcastic grin, glancing only fleetingly at Tom. ‘You just think of everything.’
‘I certainly try to,’ he said, throwing a wink Tom’s way.
‘I’m afraid mine is rather less exciting,’ Jack said, handing over what was clearly a book.
‘Does it go glug?’ she asked, tipping it over and pretending to guess.
‘How did you know?’
She tore open the wrapping, but still gasped at what she found. A third-edition The House at Pooh Corner, the red cloth cover dusty and friable, faded at the corners, the thick pages yellow with age. ‘Are you kidding me? I love Pooh!’ she cried, hugging the book closely to her chest.
‘I know. I’m afraid first editions are pretty hard to come by,’ he said, almost apologetically.
‘Uh – not to mention pricey!’ she laughed. ‘Jack, it’s far too much as it is. I don’t know what to say.’
‘Well, I wanted to do something to, you know, make things up to you.’
‘But you don’t have anything to make up to me, Jack,’ she said, casting him a quizzical smile. But he just shrugged.
Across the table, Tom shifted position and she could tell he was jealous. Did he suspect she preferred Jack’s gift to his?
‘Right, Kate . . . what’s it going to be?’ She reached for the small flat rectangular box left on the table. ‘Is it an . . . inflatable flamingo for my pool?’
‘You don’t have a pool,’ Kate laughed.
‘For my bath then?’
‘That either.’
‘Is it . . . a tennis ball?’
Kate shook her head.
‘A single shoe? I’ve always wanted one Louboutin . . .’
Kate laughed.
‘How about a . . . oh my God.’ Chloe’s eyes widened as she dramatically pressed a hand to her mouth. ‘Don’t tell me it’s a car key. Have you got a brand-new car sitting outside for me?’
Kate laughed. ‘You’re a riot, Sis. But I’m afraid my present to you is my presence.’
Chloe threw her arms round her neck and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Best present ever.’
‘Good. Because I’m afraid that little beauty is nothing to do with me at all.’
‘So, then, who’s it from?’ Chloe asked, sitting up and holding the box up to the table. But everyone shook their heads.
‘Uh-uh. I already spent my fifty bucks and I’m not spending one cent more,’ Xan said, crossing his hands primly in front of him.
They all looked at her. Her eyes met Tom’s questioningly – was it an extra one from him? – but he looked back at her blankly.
‘Well, a mystery gift. How intriguing,’ she
said dramatically as she slid off the ribbon and lifted the lid. She froze.
‘Well, what is it?’ Jack asked. ‘Show us.’
‘Aw, it’s . . . sweet,’ Elle said, reaching in and pulling out the gift.
‘That is not sweet, it’s naff. And totally pointless,’ Kate said with a grimace. ‘What are you supposed to do with that?’
‘Isn’t it self-evident?’ Elle asked, trying it on herself before dropping it in disdain; even she couldn’t make it work. ‘Huh.’
‘Come on, hands up who bought it,’ Chloe said again, a smile wobbling on her lips, but her heart rate was beginning to speed up. Her eyes scanned the room, looking at the other diners, out past the windows, checking the waiters to see if any of them were watching her. But they were occupied and seemingly oblivious.
‘Well, I’m not surprised they’re staying quiet,’ Kate said, sipping her wine. ‘It’s bloody grim. Whoever bought that thing has terrible taste in bow ties. Am I right, Chlo?’
‘Yes,’ Chloe murmured. ‘You’re right.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
They lay on the bed, legs intertwined; matching pedicures, same-shaped feet – their father’s. The green dress was draped over the bedroom chair for them to admire, the box of lingerie already a trip hazard by the door; Kate had fastened the bow tie around Marmalade’s neck. The little TV was on, a bottle of merlot half drunk on the floor beside them as they channel-hopped.
‘I don’t think I will ever get used to American TV,’ Chloe murmured, skipping from channel to channel in the vain hope of finding something that wasn’t adverts.
‘I think there’s a lot of things you won’t get used to,’ Kate sighed, shifting position so that her head was resting on Chloe’s shoulder.
‘Like what?’
‘Like having to say “jelly” for jam.’
Chloe snorted, rolled her eyes. ‘God, yeah. You’re right – I’m moving back.’
Kate dug her in the ribs with her elbow. ‘Like whenever you buy something, you’re going to have to hand over payment without saying thanks; and when someone walks into you on the subway and you can’t say sorry.’
Chloe chuckled, finding an old episode of Friends and stopping on it.
‘Like not being around to see your nephew grow up.’
‘Oh don’t—’
‘Like not seeing me every weekend.’
‘Kate—’ she frowned.
‘Just saying,’ she shrugged.
‘I miss you more than you could know. But I made a decision and I have to stick to it; my life is here now.’ She bit her lip, wondering why it sounded like some sort of grim mission statement and staring at her fingernails, which had never been more perfect – one of the great perks of living in this city, there was a nail bar on every block.
A short silence bloomed, interrupted only by a spray of canned laughter from the studio audience. ‘Well at least you’ve got good friends here, I can see that. Tonight was fun.’
‘Exactly. Elle and Xan and Poppy . . . I just adore them.’
‘And of course, now Tom’s living here . . .’
‘Exactly.’
‘It’s all perfect,’ Kate shrugged.
‘Exactly.’
‘He’s amazing.’
‘Exa—’ Huh? Chloe slid her eyes over to her sister suspiciously.
‘No, he is, I mean it,’ Kate said, looking back at her with a clear-eyed gaze. ‘He adores you, a blind man could see that; and how many other men would go back to a hotel room to relieve the babysitter just so that his girlfriend could spend a few more hours with her sister?’
Chloe held her hands out. ‘I know, right?’
Kate nodded.
They fell quiet again, watching as Joey ran around with a turkey on his head.
‘So why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?’
Chloe’s hands dropped. ‘What?’
‘I can’t leave here till you tell me. I know something’s not right with you, Sis. Everything’s flat. You keep smiling but it never reaches your eyes; you tell me everything’s perfect like you’re reading out a recipe.’
Chloe’s mouth opened but no words came out; her sister had fixed her with that gaze that made hiding so impossible.
‘Well?’ Kate pushed, jogging her in the ribs with an elbow.
Chloe curled up, jumping off the bed in sudden agitation. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong. That’s the truth.’ She threw her arms out. ‘I feel unsettled and I don’t know why.’
Kate crossed her ankles, watching as she began to pace. ‘Are things moving too fast with Tom?’
‘I dunno. Maybe.’
‘Is he still going on about you moving in together?’
Chloe cast a withering glance around the apartment. ‘Well, this place isn’t exactly designed for two.’
‘So he can move out then, and you stay here,’ Kate said, as if it was really that simple. ‘Why not? Things seemed to go supersonic between the two of you after your trip to France. But after everything you told me – about that girl—’
‘Bitch,’ Chloe corrected.
‘Indeed. That bitch at the office – why would you take him back? I just don’t get it.’
‘We have history. It’s complicated and it’s deep and I get that it’s not the fairytale or a straightforward romance but . . . sometimes getting through all the shit and still wanting to be together counts for more than all that.’
‘But after all those things he’s done—’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No, because he wasn’t the only one to mess up. I’m no saint either, Kate.’
Kate paused for a moment, regarding her. ‘Oh crap – you cheated too?’
‘No, it wasn’t cheating,’ Chloe said hotly. ‘Tom and I weren’t together when it happened. And in fact, technically speaking, we hadn’t been for over five months.’ Ten minutes of kissing on a street corner could hardly count as being back together again.
‘But then . . . when? Who?’
Chloe sighed, sinking onto the end of the bed, and tucking one leg beneath her. ‘Does it really matter?’
‘I think it does, yeah,’ Kate argued. ‘Have you seen him again?’
‘No. Well, sort of.’ She frowned, shaking her head. ‘Agh, no, not really.’
‘That makes no sense. Yes or no?’
Chloe knew she had to pick a side. ‘No.’
Kate stared at her through narrowed eyes. ‘. . . Is he here? In New York?’
‘He was. Then he wasn’t. Now – I don’t know.’
Kate pulled a bewildered expression. ‘Jeez, Chlo, who the hell is this guy?’
‘I don’t know, okay?’ Chloe cried, jumping off the bed. ‘That’s the whole bloody point! I don’t know anything about him. He lied about everything – including his name. I slept with a fucking ghost!’
Kate sat up suddenly, her back straight, watching her.
‘What?’ Chloe swallowed.
‘Oh my God. The guy in the street.’
‘What?’
‘The one with the intense eyes. He touched your hand. I saw the way you looked at each other.’
Chloe couldn’t speak. She didn’t want to think about him. She didn’t want to remember – arms outstretched as he flew between the balconies . . . She looked away. ‘I need some water.’
She disappeared down the tiny hall into the kitchen and ran the tap.
‘Chlo, tell me what happened.’ Kate was right behind her.
Chloe reached for the glasses, stalling for time, trying to think of ways to explain it, explain it away.
‘It was just a holiday fling,’ she said, handing over the water glass, her eyes down. ‘A total disaster from start to finish. He was a client so . . .’ Watching her sleep on the boat. She shrugged and pushed past her sister, heading back to the bedroom again. Goddammit, there was nowhere to go. A girl couldn’t even pace in peace.
‘Well, what does that matter?’
‘It’s unprofessional for one thing.’
‘Yeah it is. But it’s hardly the end of the world either. People fall in love at work all the time.’
Chloe glanced at her; it was exactly what Joe had said too. They resumed their positions on the bed, Kate crossing her legs and staring at her sister. They were back where they’d begun, no escape route in sight; there really was nowhere to go in this godforsaken flat. Chloe picked up the remote and began avidly channel-hopping again.
Kate took it from her and turned the telly off. ‘So you had a fling with a client. Whatever. But clearly you have feelings for him.’
‘No, Kate, I have confusion. Because it turns out he wasn’t a client.’
‘But you just said—’
‘He wasn’t a bona fide one, I meant. He was using someone else’s identity.’
‘Why? For what? Tickets to Madison Square Garden?’ she scoffed.
Chloe looked at her. She knew what would happen once she told her sister about this whole sorry mess. She would want action. Results. ‘You really want to know?’
Kate nodded.
‘I think – and the police think – he was using us as a front for money-laundering.’
There was a stunned silence. Tom had reacted that way too, when she’d first said it to him, but it was clearly what Sergeant Mahoney had been implying with his questions . . . But where Tom had given her worried looks and beseeched that she ‘stay out of it’ and ‘let the police do their jobs’, Kate threw back her head and laughed out loud. ‘No fucking way!’
Chloe double-blinked. ‘Yes way, Kate. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I’ve gone over and over it in my mind and . . .’ It was the least of the disaster scenarios that played over in a loop in her mind. ‘Look, he got us – well, me – to source him a house in the middle of nowhere, okay? Which he then paid for in cash, at more than double what it was worth.’ She shook her head. ‘The whole thing was suspicious as hell. He was throwing money around – flying in private jets, chartering a yacht – and all of it was paid for, upfront, behind my back – so to speak,’ she frowned. ‘I thought it was all going on his account. I didn’t find out he’d paid them all till I got back here and chased for their invoices and they told me the accounts were already settled.’