The divorce petition from the court came a few months later. That’s when she cried. Really cried. Days and days of tears for the relationship she’d fought so hard to win. But she’d never really won it, had she?
She wasn’t about to tell any of this to Paul. His agency fee didn’t buy him that kind of detail. Besides, it was so long ago that it hardly mattered now.
Paul stood with her in front of Hogarth’s Marriage à-la-mode series, taking in all the details. ‘This guy’s pretty good,’ he said.
‘Yes, he’s pretty good.’
He’d probably say that Mozart could carry a tune. ‘It’s a moral tale, really,’ she said. ‘About an earl who makes a contract for his son to marry the daughter of a rich merchant, but it’s not a happy marriage. Now they’ve got lots of money from her family and, when the old earl dies, titles from his, but the husband sleeps with a prostitute and catches venereal disease and the wife has it off with their lawyer. Her husband bursts in on them in a rage and the lawyer stabs him. Of course, the lawyer is sent to the gallows for murder and the wife poisons herself in despair. But none of the family money can go to her child because all property is forfeit in the case of suicide. So she’s destitute even though she did nothing wrong. A destitute orphan.’
Paul pretended to hang himself with his imaginary tie. ‘Thanks, Catherine, that’s a real downer.’
She laughed. ‘Hogarth was a great moraliser. And a pretty good painter, as you say. Now that you know a bit about him and the Impressionists, with your new look and stylish shirt choice, if I do say so myself, who’ll be able to resist you? Come with me. There’s an even better series at the Soane’s Museum. Then you can go back to your philistine ways.’
‘Nah, that’s all right,’ he said. ‘I think I’m coming round to your way of doing things.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rachel
Rachel dreamed that she was being chased down the corridor with the Zigler clients throwing cheese graters at her. She was definitely obsessing about work but she couldn’t stop now. Not till she was sure she’d designed something really special. So for the third week straight, she dragged herself out of bed before the sun was up, mainlined her coffee and went to the office.
James was already there. ‘Morning, sir,’ he said, looking up from his drawings when he noticed her in the doorway. ‘Is today the day? Today has to be the day.’
He’d asked her if she was finished every day for the past week. Every day she said yes, nearly. Her building was like a mirage in the desert. She never seemed to get any closer. ‘Yep, nearly,’ she said, and went to her desk.
He followed her to her office. ‘C’mon, Rachel, can’t I see? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’
‘I don’t want to see yours.’
‘You’ve already seen mine, but I’m talking about the drawings. Please? I’ll see it eventually, when you show Ed and the clients. I don’t know why you’re always so secretive.’
‘Ha! That’s the pot calling the kettle black.’ That came out harsher than she wanted.
He looked confused. ‘But I always show you my drawings.’
‘I’m not talking about your drawings.’
‘What then?’
‘You know.’ She hadn’t forgotten about the party. That cosy little conversation with Sarah that she was obviously not welcome to join. ‘I mean you and Sarah at the party. Care to elaborate on why you were whispering every time I saw you?’
His eyes flicked to hers and then away again. ‘We were just catching up. Why, does it bother you?’
She didn’t want to answer that question, even to herself. ‘I don’t care. It was just rude to monopolise her like that.’
‘I wasn’t monopolising her. I was talking to the guest of honour. It was her birthday, remember?’
True, but there was definitely something else going on. ‘It doesn’t matter to me what you and my housemate talk about. You’re adults.’
‘If it bothers you, Rach—’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re bothering me!’
He kept watching her till she looked away. She heard him leave a few seconds later.
Now her mood was completely ruined. Her drawings were none of his business. Any more than his conversation with Sarah was hers …
‘Rachel?’
Why couldn’t he just stay in his office?
‘I thought I should tell you that I’m meeting Sarah tonight for a drink.’
She kept her eyes on her pens. ‘Oh? That’s nice. Have fun.’
‘It’s nothing serious, just a drink.’
‘Mmm hmm, okay.’
‘Are you okay with that?’
Finally she looked up. ‘Yes, James, I’m okay with it. You don’t need my permission to have a drink with my friend if you want to. Have fun.’
‘Are you being facetious?’
‘God, you’re annoying. You’re a big boy. Do what you like.’
‘Because if you’re not okay—’
‘Will you go back to work?!’
‘Just thought you should know,’ he mumbled as he left.
So that’s why they were so secretive at the party. They weren’t talking about her. Quite the opposite, actually. She hadn’t figured into their thinking at all.
She laid down her pen as an uncomfortable prickling feeling crept up her neck. Did drinks with Sarah mean polite, platonic, definitely friend-zone drinks? Or mild, platonic flirting? Or … clothing-optional?
She could imagine how their conversation went. James would do that thing where he tipped his head down to look at you like James McAvoy did in the films. Then he’d be all stammery when he suggested going for a drink some time, staring at her with big hopeful eyes until she said yes out of sheer pity.
Sarah was definitely too kind sometimes. Of course she was just being kind. She wasn’t interested in him like that. Especially when she knew exactly why Rachel had dumped him in the first place.
She had liked James’s ambition when they first met. It matched hers. The late nights in the office were fun. Junior architects united in solidarity for the cause.
But that was before they had other ways to spend their time. Once they started kissing, Rachel got better at the whole work/life balance.
Not James though.
He did nothing to fit a relationship into his work schedule. The late nights continued. He made and cancelled weekend plans.
She never thought she’d feel jealous of a job. But that was his first love. She felt like a distant second best.
They did talk about it, till they were both sick of hearing her. He’d make an effort for a week or two before slipping back into his routine.
It got so she could tell when she was about to be stood up. Name that excuse in three notes …
‘Hi Rach, I’m really sorry but—’
‘You know what?’ she finally said on yet another Saturday that he’d spent in the office. ‘Don’t bother.’
‘Huh?’
‘With whatever excuse you were going to say.’
‘It’s not an excuse. I really do have to—’
‘Work. I know. You go ahead and work. Work all you want. I’m done.’
‘Can we meet later? I should be finished by ten.’
‘I said I’m done.’ Her voice hitched. ‘You work.’
‘No, I’ll leave now. I can be with you in half an hour.’
‘It’s too late.’ She was sobbing now. ‘A year’s enough, don’t you think? If you haven’t got it through your head by now, you’re never going to.’
‘You can’t just end it like this, Rachel.’ He sounded panicked. ‘We’re friends.’
‘Right, James. We’re friends. That’s exactly what we are.’
She rang in sick for the rest of that week and bawled till she thought her heart would split. Catherine and Sarah, their shoulders sodden with tears, kept her distracted with girl power DVDs.
James rang about ten times a day but she never took his calls.
The tiny bit of self-esteem she’d salvaged told her not to.
But he didn’t give up. When she returned to work, red-eyed but resolved, he wanted to know if she was all right.
‘I’m fine,’ she lied, knowing that eventually she would be. ‘But I don’t want to be around you right now.’ She could take his aloofness. She could even take his anger (if he’d had any). It was his worry and compassion she couldn’t handle.
Now he was probably sitting in his office thinking she was upset about him and Sarah. She wasn’t about to let him play the bigger person again.
She strode over. ‘James, I might have given you the impression before that I’m not happy about you going out with Sarah. I am. Happy. Thrilled,’ she added for good measure, though that might have been overkill.
‘If you mean that then thanks. I really enjoyed talking to her. She’s funny! Why didn’t I know she was so funny?’
‘Maybe you should take her to a comedy club then. She’d enjoy that.’
‘We’re meeting for drinks at Gordon’s. She’s never been there and I thought she’d like it. What do you think?’
What did she think? She thought it showed a remarkable lack of originality considering she and James had gone there at least half a dozen times. ‘Well I always liked it, so yes, I’m sure she will. Maybe I’ll take Thomas there. He’d probably like it too. Not tonight though, obviously.’
‘Does that mean things are going well with Thomas?’
She couldn’t read the look that crossed his face. ‘Oh yeah, things are great with him.’ Except that she hadn’t heard from him recently. ‘Joining that website was such a good move, don’t you think?’
‘Well, I haven’t really used it much, to be honest, after that first date.’
‘Oh that’s riiight. The woman you slept with. Whatever happened to her?’ she asked sweetly.
Again that inscrutable expression. ‘She blew me out. And after I busted some of my best moves on her, too.’
Rachel’s hand flew in front of her eyes. ‘Please, James, I don’t need details. I’ll never be able to unhear them.’
‘I mean dancing, Rach. I took her out to a club.’
‘You did not! James, you’ve never danced in your life. What has happened to you?’
‘I’ll have you know that I’m a decent dancer.’
‘Then why did you never take me out? I love to dance.’
‘I didn’t know it was important until you mentioned it on the assessment form. But you were right. Women do find it sexy. I’m irresistible when I’m gettin’ down with my bad self.’
He started trying to twerk around the room.
‘Oh God, no James!’ She put up both hands this time.
‘Anyway,’ he continued, sounding winded. ‘I guess I got lucky at the party.’
Her eyes snapped to his. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I mean seeing Sarah again. Even though she’s online now, I got to talk to her in the wild.’ When he grinned she wanted to wipe it off his face. ‘Hopefully we’ll be able to snag a table tonight. We’re not meeting till around nine. I have to see my prof first.’
That was an odd thing to say. ‘Which prof?’
‘My mentor, Doctor Hildegaard. He’s looking over the Zigler project with me.’
‘You can’t do that!’ she blurted. ‘It’s cheating.’
‘What are you talking about, Rachel? Cheating on what? This isn’t an exam.’
‘No, but we’re competing against each other. You can’t have help with yours.’
‘You’re using your mother.’
‘I am not! She hasn’t even seen the sketches. Nor will she.’
He stared at her. ‘Why the hell wouldn’t you? She’s one of the best architects in the city. You’re nuts if you don’t use that. Seriously, Rach, this is your career. Use all the tools available to you. I’m saying that as your friend.’
‘I’m not going to cheat. It’s not fair.’
‘I told you, it’s not cheating. It’s called getting ahead. I think you’ve got a screwed-up sense of fair play, but it’s your career. I want this project, Rachel. You know that whoever gets it gets promoted, right?’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘Come on. Ed’s been hinting at it since the meeting. Trust me. Whoever wins the Zigler contract gets the promotion. And the other person …’
He left the sentence hanging in the air. She didn’t need him to finish it. There’d be no prize for coming second.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sarah
Why couldn’t James have picked an earlier time to meet, or another night? Sarah listened for Rachel’s key in the front door. He knew she sketched from home. And he also knew that Rachel would probably come back before it was time to leave for their date. What was she supposed to do, hide in the closet for three hours to avoid her housemate?
This had seemed like a good idea at the party when he’d asked her to meet him, but now she wasn’t so sure. She just knew she’d bottle it if she had to look Rachel in the face.
She ran her hand over the new dresses in her closet. Black and white polka dots or the watered silk one with cancan girls? The black and white was more elegant but the girls were flirtier. No contest, she thought. It’s definitely a dancing girls kind of night. She wriggled into the cinch-waisted frock and popped on her trusty boots. Rachel was right. They did go with everything.
She was right about most things. It didn’t take long to get used to the make-up. Now Sarah felt weird without it. The other morning she nearly put on eyeliner before her jog. Step away from the slap, she’d told herself. The squirrels don’t give a toss how you look.
Just as she was tonging one side of her fringe, Rachel shouted from downstairs.
‘Ow!’ Sarah cried as the tongs came down on her forehead with a painful sizzle. ‘I’m up here!’ she yelled back with her hand over the rising welt.
‘Couldn’t help but notice that the banister is missing,’ Rachel said as she reached Sarah’s doorway.
‘Oh, that. Nate’s replacing it. Apparently it’s come loose.’ She rolled her eyes. It wouldn’t be loose if the workmen didn’t swing round the newel post every time they ran up or down the stairs.
Nate had finally shown up again (a week after he said he would) as if they’d never had a falling-out. Sarah still blamed herself for making them quit. But then Rachel asked her dad about it and found out that that’s just how builders worked. Nate probably wasn’t even mad at her. He’d just taken another job, so it suited him to be away for a few weeks. Now he was back in the house, destroying as much as he fixed, and there was probably another family across town waiting hopefully each morning for a white van.
‘So they removed the whole thing?’ Rachel asked.
‘He didn’t want us falling through. He thinks we’ll be more careful if there’s no banister to rely on.’ She’d always doubted Nate’s building skills but now she wondered about his intelligence too. She couldn’t wait till they were finished. In about a month, Nate promised.
‘Getting ready for your date?’ Rachel asked.
Sarah inspected the question for any anger, but Rachel kept it neutral. She was just about to say it wasn’t a date. But she couldn’t do that. ‘Yes, nearly ready.’
‘What’s happened to your forehead?’
‘I burned it on the tongs.’
‘Ouch. That might blister. Did you put burn cream on it?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think we have any.’
‘Hang on, I know what to do.’
She ran back downstairs, leaving Sarah a moment to compose herself.
Should she ask Rachel if going out with James was okay? What if she said no? That would stop them in their tracks before they even got started. No, she had to stay strong. She couldn’t let herself be talked out of this.
‘Here, put this on,’ Rachel said, handing her a kitchen towel.
Sarah sniffed it. ‘Butter?’
‘It helps wi
th burns.’
‘Plus it’s tasty on toast,’ she said, smearing her forehead. ‘Do I have to go out like this?’
‘No, it soaks in. You may want to wash your forehead though before you go. You might get a bit whiffy otherwise.’
‘Thanks,’ Sarah said. ‘I’m ordering from the Noodle Shop. Want something?’
‘Sounds great. Number sixteen for me, please.’
So they were both going to ignore the elephant in the room.
James looked really cute. She’d always thought so, but the past few years had added something extra. He was more man than man-child now. She supposed he was just dressed as he would be for work, since he went to see his prof straight after, and then came to the bar, but he looked stylish. He and Rachel had made an attractive couple.
‘You look great,’ he said, taking in her dress, the boots, the make-up and half-curled hair. She couldn’t face those tongs again after the scalding. ‘What happened to your forehead?’
Her hand flew to her head. ‘Is it still shiny?’
‘No, it just looks like a blister. Why would it be shiny?’
‘I burned it. Rachel said butter would help. I’m pretty sure it’s a myth, but she seemed really keen to help so I let her.’
‘Hmm.’
‘What?’
‘That’s funny. I’m lactose-intolerant.’
Was he also wondering if Rachel disapproved? ‘You don’t think she …?’
‘No, no. I mean, come on. I’m hardly going to lick your forehead, am I? What do you want to drink? My round. It’s the least I can do.’
They found a little table against one of the walls in the half-empty wine bar. Within a few sips of her wine, Sarah knew she’d been right not to cancel. They settled easily into the same banter they’d had at the party.
It felt nice to be comfortable. Being on the website reminded her how stressful dating could be. Not that she wasn’t enjoying her dates with Jeremy. She just felt a bit like a performing monkey sometimes. Tonight she was simply Sarah.
When the conversation turned to RecycLove, James told her about his date.
She wasn’t shocked when he confessed to his sleepover, but it was a little insensitive given the circumstances. Still, the more she knew about him the better. ‘So will you see her again? I’m asking for a friend.’
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