by Karen Swan
It was a moment before Cassie caught up and realized what Kelly had seen.
‘It’s nothing!’ she said sharply, snatching her hand away, tugging roughly at the cuff again.
But it was too late. The expression on Kelly’s face told her she’d seen the inscribed date – a date that she remembered well herself: she’d been there. It was a date that led to only one conclusion. Her hand dropped down, a look of stunned astonishment on her face as Cassie turned out of the kitchen and stepped onto the fire escape, her heart pounding, her mind racing. But there was no alternative explanation for this, nothing she could say to mitigate the shock of what she was already embroiled in.
Kelly’s voice was quiet behind her. ‘Care to explain?’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘How does Brett put up with you?’ Anouk tutted, trying to pull back the pintucked eiderdown from Kelly. ‘You are such a hogger.’
Kelly, who was sitting beside her on the other side of the bed, shrugged. ‘I know, but at least I’m not a kicker. Cassie’s the worst kicker, don’t you remember?’
‘I am not!’ Cassie protested from her position at the foot of the bed. They were sleeping like sardines tonight, but Cassie was sure she’d been put in the tails end so that Anouk and Kelly could both face her like an inquisition – or firing squad.
‘We’re going to wake up with concussions tomorrow,’ Kelly chuckled, prompting a kick from Cassie, whose earlier tears had left her veering wildly between outright defiance and forlorn exhaustion, and she was still fragile, even now after several hours of improvised spa treatments in her bedroom, which were supposed to try and relax her (although Kelly had had to go into the room and turn over all the pictures of Cassie and Henry first).
Scented candles flickered delicately from every surface, trying to overpower the synthetic scent of nail polish – Chanel’s Mirabella decorated their toes, still peeking out from the bedcovers – and they were lying on the bed with their hands held up, smothered in an expensive anti-ageing cream Anouk kept in her bag, while Kelly tried to rub open the latex gloves that Henry kept in the cupboard under the sink for plumbing emergencies; supposedly they were going to wake up tomorrow with the lily-soft hands of five-year-old princesses. Every so often, Cassie got another, slightly hysterical fit of the giggles as she took in the sight of Kelly and Anouk with Bircher muesli on their faces, which only a sharp reflexology dig in the solar plexus region of her right foot could stop.
‘So, you seem a little calmer,’ Anouk said, holding her hands still for Kelly to roll on the gloves. It reminded Cassie of surgeons being gloved in a medical drama.
Cassie just blinked. ‘I feel paralysed. I don’t know which way’s up anymore. I certainly don’t know which way’s forward.’
‘I just can’t imagine you without Henry,’ Kelly murmured quietly, ineffable sadness in her voice.
Cassie looked away, assailed by another violent rush of emotions. She couldn’t imagine it either.
It was odd. She could imagine being with Luke – all the feelings she’d once had for him were still there; she had simply boxed them away and now she’d let them out, acknowledged them, they were coexisting alongside her feelings for Henry. But the one thing she couldn’t do was imagine not being with Henry. Her mind wouldn’t go there; her heart wouldn’t let her. The very thought was impossible.
‘You still love him, right?’ Kelly asked.
‘Of course I do! I will always love him! He’s the love of my life,’ Cassie said with too-bright eyes. She slumped further into the pillows, her voice flattening. ‘But I just don’t think that’s going to be enough anymore. It’s clear we want very different things. He’s forcing this issue and I can’t pretend that I didn’t go through what I went through. You don’t just walk out of a ten-year marriage without there being some kind of payback, and he just doesn’t get that. I don’t know how I can explain myself any more clearly. Why would I go back to something that makes a prisoner of me, locks me in regardless of how other people behave? I don’t ever want to leave him, but I have to be free to leave; that possibility has to be there for me now. I’ve got to keep a door open.’
Kelly looked sad at her words. Anouk didn’t.
‘Well, I quite agree,’ Anouk sighed. ‘People place so much weight on ownership, like they’ve got to possess you. Why? Surely it is more comforting to know that the person you are with has chosen to stay. They could go, but they choose not to.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘It is much more seductive, no?’
‘I couldn’t disagree more,’ Kelly said, rubbing even more furiously on the latex glove, which merely flapped in her hands like a dying fish. ‘When you make the choice to dedicate your life to that one person, and one person only, you build an intimacy that your so-called freedoms could never touch. It’s way sexier.’
‘In the beginning maybe,’ Anouk shrugged. ‘But twenty years from now you’ll be obsessing over that hair that’s sprouted at the end of his nose and wondering why the hell he can’t see it and get rid of it. Everything you love now will be driving you crazy by then.’
‘So what’s your answer? Keep turning them over? Be with younger guys as you get older? Where’s the peace in that? You’d be paranoid about your looks, your allure. How long will they stay? Are they seeing anyone else? Should you leave them before they can leave you?’
‘Actually—’
‘OK, girls. Time out?’ Cassie said tiredly, making a T-sign with her hands, the bangle sliding down her wrist. It was smeared with muesli, but she couldn’t get it off – Luke had the screwdriver and nothing in Henry’s toolbox was small enough to fit it. ‘I appreciate the debate, but there’s nothing hypothetical about my situation. If I don’t marry him, he says we’re f-finished,’ she stuttered. ‘I’ve got to give a “yes” or “no” answer. It’s that simple. And that impossible.’
‘Sorry,’ they both murmured.
Cassie’s face fell, twisting with pain as another surge of anxiety reared up inside her and she grabbed her hair by the temples, oblivious to the fact that she hadn’t yet got her gloves on. ‘Oh God, I am fucking up.’
‘No, you’re not. Not yet, anyway. Only if you make the wrong call,’ Kelly said quickly. ‘And nothing has been done yet that can’t be undone . . . Right?’
It was a moment before Cassie realized what she was getting at. ‘No. We just kissed.’ But even that was a betrayal, just on a sliding scale of degrees, something that would have been unfathomable – abhorrent – to the version of herself sitting here two weeks ago. She had kissed another man. She was planning on leaving Henry, leaving here, this life, this path, and stepping onto a new one. How had she got here? How?
‘How are you feeling now you’re away from them both?’ Anouk asked, twiddling a biro between her fingers and Cassie could tell she was gearing up for a cigarette.
She shrugged weakly. ‘It all seems so distant now. I mean, Henry’s somewhere in the middle of the Pacific; Luke’s in Cornwall. It’s hard to believe either one of them is waiting for me.’
‘And yet they both are,’ said Kelly. She gave a heavy sigh. ‘Tell me this. Would you still be walking away from Henry if you didn’t have Luke to go to?’
‘If I do go – if! – I’m not leaving Henry for Luke. But there’s unfinished business there. I can’t pretend there isn’t.’
‘This would all be a helluva lot more simple if he’d just stayed on his side of the Atlantic,’ Kelly said crossly. ‘I mean, I cannot believe he’s staying in the exact same place as you.’
‘I know. It is weird,’ Cassie sighed. ‘His girlfriend knows Gem.’
‘Or maybe it is fate, uh?’ Anouk asked.
Kelly shot her a look that suggested Anouk was being unhelpful. ‘I just don’t understand why you stayed on once you realized he was there too. Surely you knew what might happen if you and Luke were together again?’
‘Honestly? No! I hated him so much after Paris.’
‘Too much, in retrospect, uh?’ Anouk ask
ed.
Cassie shrugged again. ‘Yes, maybe.’
There was a pause.
‘Look, it’s a sex thing with you and Luke,’ Kelly said, changing tack. ‘The chemistry was always incredible between you. God knows, it was in my face long enough. Man, I will never forget the time I found the two of you in the bath—’
‘Thanks!’ Cassie shrieked, preferring not to go into specifics, even though the exact same memory had played through her mind several times in the past twenty-four hours.
‘The point I’m trying to make is that you two didn’t get to let things take their natural course. You upped and left for Paris after New Year because that was the date we’d arbitrarily agreed on at the outset, but you and he weren’t done. You hadn’t played yourselves out. The relationship didn’t get a chance to die; it just ended, like that.’ She clicked her fingers. ‘So it’s maybe not that surprising that this has happened.’
Cassie sensed there was more to come. ‘But you think that we would have ended if we’d had more time?’ she prompted.
‘Oh yeah. Absolutely,’ Kelly said resolutely.
‘You have no way of knowing that,’ Anouk argued. ‘You’re making assumptions because you see her with Henry and want that to be the answer – but what if it isn’t? They’ve got problems. Cassie and Luke don’t.’
‘If Henry could hear you—’ Kelly started.
‘Hey! I love him as much as you, but this is about what’s right for Cassie. This is the rest of her life we’re talking about. There are no second chances with this. Whatever direction she chooses – whichever man – she can’t go back.’
Cassie slumped further down the pillow, feeling her anxiety and confusion begin to marble again. Both Kelly and Anouk fell silent, feeling guilty. As much as they shared a style DNA, they had always disagreed about what was best for Cassie. Kelly had rendered her a Park Avenue blonde during her New York stint, Anouk a bobbed brunette. Kelly had had her running Central Park and eating sushi; Anouk had introduced her to the joys of the hammam and a full-bodied Merlot. They weren’t likely to make it a first and agree, now, on this.
‘And Suzy has no idea?’ Kelly asked after a moment.
Oh God, Suzy. Cassie dropped her head into her mueslicoated hands again. ‘She had her suspicions. We had a big fight about it. She was right and I was . . . I was putting my head in the sand. I didn’t see it clearly like she did. I believed Luke when he told me he’d moved on. I mean, he’s dating Amber Taylor, for heaven’s sake! Hello! Why would I think he was pining over me? It’s laughable.’ She swallowed as they remained silent. There was nothing funny about it. ‘She doesn’t know about last night.’ Her face crumpled, the muscles falling slack with despair. ‘How can I tell her? If I go back to Luke, I’m betraying her as much as I am Henry. She’ll never forgive me. She won’t. I’ll lose her too.’
Kelly and Anouk glanced at each other. Confirmation. There were no platitudes to offer here.
‘Did you tell Luke you were leaving?’ Kelly asked quietly.
She nodded.
‘So then he’s waiting for you.’
‘Yes.’ Cassie met their eyes. ‘Oh Christ, what do you think I should do? Someone please just tell me what to do.’
It was a moment before either woman spoke.
‘Well, I know there’s one thing you can’t do,’ Anouk said slowly.
Cassie blinked. ‘What’s that?’
‘You can’t go back there alone.’
‘Jeez, it would’ve been quicker coming by mail,’ Kelly grumbled from the seat in the back, a hamper on her knee as they passed a sign for Bodmin.
‘This is nothing – you should see Henry’s car,’ Anouk drawled. ‘We almost had to cut the roof off to get Bas out.’
Cassie laughed, winking at Kelly in the rear-view mirror. OK, so it had taken seven hours instead of five, but she was really rather pleased (not to mention relieved) that her Morris Minor had made the motorway journey without incident – no black smoke belching from the exhaust (as it had done on the road to Bath once), no burst tyres (en route to Norfolk) or the clutch going (a wedding in Warwickshire). The poor little car was so full its back bumper was practically kissing the tarmac, as Cassie had expertly wedged baskets, rugs, glasses, cutlery, ice buckets, food trays and best friends inside.
‘Right. Bas says he can get the first train down in the morning,’ Kelly said, reading from her texts.
‘Did you tell him where the spare key is?’ Cassie called back. ‘It’s under the—’
‘Yeah, yeah. He says he’s in. Reckons he’ll be with us by eleven tomorrow.’
‘I can’t believe we missed him. It must have been by minutes,’ Cassie said sadly, shaking her head. ‘Such crummy luck.’
‘Well, maybe next time he will think to text beforehand to check you’re there,’ Anouk said. ‘It is rude to turn up unannounced, non?’
But Cassie already had a feeling as to why he may have turned up at her flat without notice. The couture shows were starting in Paris next week, but if he’d turned up a few days early to see Luis and things hadn’t quite panned out in the way he’d hoped . . .
She bit her lip, hoping it wasn’t that. Let one of them be lucky in love, at least.
She swung along the back roads via Delabole as the sky reddened into black, her grip tightening on the steering wheel as the miles to Rock were counted down on every road sign. They were too late for dinner now, in spite of their best plans, and she had texted Archie from the Tiverton services to appraise them of their new ETA. ‘If you’re tired, don’t wait up. Big day tomorrow!’ she’d signed off, in the vain hope – she now realized – that Archie would spread the word and scatter their guests back to their rooms. If she could just not see Luke for one more night . . . If she could just have another twelve hours to herself while she reached for clarity, achieved perspective, settled on the answer that her heart told her was right.
Her hands tightened at the wheel again.
‘You OK?’ Anouk asked, her eyes on Cassie’s blanched knuckles.
‘Me? Yeah. Just tired.’ She had barely slept again, her nervous system scarcely touched by the holistic, relaxing treatments her friends had prepared last night, and she had been working in the kitchen for several hours before Anouk and Kelly had woken up, their rubber gloves still on and bits of porridge oats stuck in their eyebrows.
‘I’m not surprised. You worked like a fever today.’
Cassie shrugged. ‘It was good to get ahead with the prepping. I reckon it’s going to be fairly stressy in the house tomorrow, no matter what Gem says about it being low-key. At least all I’ve got to do now is roast the lamb and stack the macaroons.’ A sixth sense told her that tomorrow was going to be difficult in lots of ways – not only with Luke wanting an answer, but also being faced with Suzy’s stonewalling again. Her eyes flickered towards Anouk in the passenger seat beside her. ‘I couldn’t have done it without your help, you know. You guys were amazing, pitching in like that.’
Kelly and Anouk had stood in the kitchen doorway, their eyes on the bowls already filled with washed, chopped and colour-coded ingredients, and had immediately put aprons on over their pyjamas, recognizing work as catharsis when they saw it. They had stayed like that all day – no one, not even Anouk, taking a shower or getting dressed till they’d been ready to start packing the car, Kelly and Anouk obediently following Cassie’s instructions with an understanding that sometimes, just sometimes, it was better to do than to talk. They had made great sous-chefs. (Notwithstanding the moment Anouk accidentally sliced off a nail and made such a fuss that for several moments Cassie had thought it had been a finger.)
‘I’ve got to say, I never realized how intense your job is,’ Kelly piped up from the back. ‘It seems to me you’ve got to have ten arms, plus eyes in the back of your head.’
Cassie chuckled. ‘It certainly feels like that sometimes.’ It had been revelatory for her to be the ‘expert’ among her friends for once. Her tutelage under her l
ate friend and mentor Claude Sautans in Paris had been a first-class education and she rarely got a chance to indulge, to show what she was really capable of doing; her job usually meant working to very tight budgets and briefs, but Gem’s ideas had been so obscure and unrealistic – not to mention last-minute, having maintained all the way through that she didn’t want to be ‘hung up’ on the superfluous details of the day – that Cassie had felt vindicated to take carte blanche and produce a menu to her vision.
Hence she’d planned individual hampers, starting with terrines of jellied ham, parsley and quail’s eggs, then moving on to a salad of pea tops with edible pansies, and rare lamb and butternut squash roasted with hazelnuts. For pudding, she’d whipped up some deliciously tart gooseberry fool and elderflower jelly, and in lieu of a formal wedding cake – which would have needed to have been started six weeks ago – she had baked several trays of rose petal-infused macaroons, ready to stack into a croquembouche (her and Claude’s signature dish) in the morning.
‘I can’t believe the scale of things down here,’ Kelly murmured as ten-foot-high, pink-tufted hedgerows whistled past the car with only inches to spare either side, the scent of wild garlic a pinch of sweetness in the night air. ‘It’s like Lilliput, everything’s so tiny. They must operate a one-way system like New York, right?’
‘Nope.’
‘You’re kidding? They get two-way traffic down these roads?’
‘I know. It’s crazy. And most of it’s tractors too.’
The lanes were quiet as they slipped through the hilltop village, the snake of traffic down to the sailing club mercifully dispersed for the night and the drunken babble from the Mariner’s pub too distant to discern from here. A fox skipped across the lane a short distance in front of them, its casual cock of the head telling them it had no fear, took no heed of the rounded car from another era bumbling towards it.
‘Well, this is it,’ Cassie said a few minutes later, turning into the long drive and past the cream pebble-dashed pillars. ‘That’s Snapdragons on the right.’