by Fiona Gibson
‘Hamish is bound to drive her mad,’ Nick assures me. ‘She’ll be back soon, and as soon as she appears, I’ll call you. Please don’t worry. There’s no way she’ll object to it, now we’re almost ready to go.’
Tuesday, November 19
Still no sign of Penny. It’s a little baffling, as she’s not even keen on Hamish’s boat: ‘It’s what you’d call basic,’ she’s told me, pulling a face. ‘That chemical loo is not something you’d want to acquaint yourself with, if you could possibly avoid it.’ However, these late autumn days have been blue-skied and crisp, so perhaps they’re making the most of it. Well, good for them. How lovely to be chugging along on our inland waterways! But I hope to God she comes back soon.
Wednesday, November 20
Still no word from Penny. Is Hamish holding her hostage? Has she fallen overboard? Even Nick is growing agitated now, although he pretends he’s not when he drops by briefly, whilst out walking Bobby. ‘Maybe they’ve run off to get married,’ I remark. As a joke, it falls flat.
‘They’re probably just having a lovely time,’ Nick says, and I have to concede he’s probably right. But I’m dying.
Thursday, November 21
Sammia has been photographed in the poncho, and the posters and programme are all ready to go. Miraculously, I’ve managed to stall Hannah from making it all public by explaining that we need Penny’s approval first.
‘It all looks amazing!’ she says, when she calls me just after I’ve arrived home from work. ‘I can’t wait to hear what she says.’
‘Me too,’ I say, trying to radiate positivity. We finish the call, and I gave Izzy a drink and a biscuit in the living room. She’s chattering away about school, and how they’re going to start cross-country running, which she’s a little perturbed about, and her class teacher’s picking a quiz team, which is more her thing. Whilst I’m trying to listen, and reassure her that they won’t be required to run for hours and hours, as rumour suggests, and yes, I’m sure she has a good chance of being picked for the team, I’m still distracted and tense, which seems to have become my near-permanent state over the past few days.
Where the heck is Penny? Of course, she’s entitled to a holiday, I try to reason with myself as I go through to the kitchen and start knocking together a pasta sauce. Her life isn’t bound by any work-related timetable, and maybe she’s decided Hamish’s chemical loo isn’t so bad after all. Or perhaps she’s forced him to abandon the boat and adjourn to a hotel? As for her unwillingness to engage with social media, or even switch on her mobile (what’s the point in having one if it’s always off? ‘Saving the battery!’ is her stock response). Well, I guess that’s fine too. At least fine-ish, until someone needs to ruddy well get hold of her, like me who’s getting pretty desperate—
‘Penny, hi!’ I drop the wooden spoon onto the worktop as she strides into my kitchen. Her expression is bizarrely flat, possibly even angry. She didn’t knock, but then, she never does; it’s the trait of hers that drove Andy most crazy. I mean, what if we were in the middle of doing something? Bizarrely, Chrissie – who is a polite door-knocker – seems to have followed her in, and is looking pale and quite upset.
‘Hi, Viv,’ Penny says sharply.
I push back my hair and turn off the hob. As the two of them are no more than acquaintances, I have no idea what’s going on.
‘What … what’s happening? Is something up?’ I look at them both in turn.
‘Viv, I’m so sorry,’ Chrissie starts. There’s no bold red lipstick today, and her hair is stuffed back into its topknot. ‘He didn’t mean it,’ she adds, her eyes wide with alarm. ‘He really didn’t. It just … happened.’
‘Who didn’t mean what?’
‘Ludo,’ she exclaims. ‘You know how sweet he is, how he’d never want to upset anyone. And he didn’t realise, and it’s all my fault …’
The cat-stoning incident springs into mind. ‘Has he hurt Bobby?’ I gasp.
‘No, of course not!’ Chrissie cries. ‘He’d never hurt an animal—’
‘Look, I know about this thing at the museum,’ Penny cuts in, her gaze meeting mine. ‘I know that you and Nick have been in cahoots, planning it, this thing that’s going to be huge, apparently, and neither of you thought to say a word about it to me.’
I stare at her, my mouth open, feeling as if I’ve been punched in the gut. ‘Viv, I’m so sorry,’ Chrissie goes on, although my gaze still is fixed upon Penny’s face. I have never seen her looking angry before. Disgruntled, yes, and irritated, when she’s had a spat with Hamish, but never properly furious like this. Oh, shit. I have misread things so badly and made a terrible mistake.
‘We ran into Penny in the park after school,’ Chrissie adds, biting at a fingernail. ‘She was out with Bobby and of course, Ludo ran straight over to play with him. You know how he loves animals …’
‘Never mind, Chrissie,’ I say distractedly. ‘It’s done now, and it can’t be helped.’ I turn back to Penny. ‘Pen, look … we were planning to tell you. Of course we were.’
‘So, why didn’t you?’ She plonks her hands on her hips.
‘You’ve been away,’ I say faintly. ‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but—’
‘That was only for a few days,’ she cuts in. ‘You’ve been planning this for weeks—’
‘Where’s Nick? Have you spoken to him at all?’ Christ, now it sounds as if I am trying to shift the blame, which isn’t my intention at all.
‘He’s in town somewhere,’ she says briskly. ‘I haven’t seen him yet. To be fair, I realise it’s not just you. I’m just as annoyed with him, plotting and scheming—’
‘But it’s not like that,’ I exclaim, sensing my cheeks flaming. ‘Honestly, we just thought it was for the best. At first there was no guarantee that it would happen at all. In fact, the museum initially turned the idea down. And then it was happening, but it seemed such a monumental undertaking that I really wasn’t sure if I could pull it off. Then the clothes started to arrive – Isla and I, then Nick too, between us we’d contacted literally hundreds of vintage shops. It was slow to begin with, then things seemed to gain momentum and all these pieces were arriving, sent by shop owners because they trusted us, they believed in the project and they wanted to help …’
My voice cracks. I fix my gaze on Penny’s blue-grey eyes. Chrissie is staring down at the floor, and Izzy is still watching TV in the living room, apparently oblivious. ‘They wanted to be involved,’ I continue, ‘and I decided, once we had everything pretty sorted, then that would be the best time to tell you. I knew you might be unsure about it, after your reaction when we first talked about a fashion event. So I wanted you to see how brilliant it would be, and how excited everyone’s been to play a part in it—’
‘So it would be a fait accompli?’ she asks coolly.
‘Erm, well, yes. But in a good way, a way that would make you so proud and thrilled. I mean …’ I pause, aware of the desperation in my voice, ‘if you’re planning a surprise party, you only want the person to find out when everything’s perfect and ready and—’
‘But I hate surprise parties,’ Penny snaps. ‘Who likes them really? A party they’ve had no hand in planning and no chance to prepare for, no outfit picked out, no chance to get to the hairdresser’s …’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Do you like them?’ She turns to Chrissie who looks up, startled.
‘Um, I’m not a massive fan of them, to be honest,’ she mutters, throwing me an apologetic look.
‘And the two of you seem to have forgotten that this is my thing,’ Penny goes on. ‘Girl Friday is mine, Viv. It was my name, and my brand. And why on earth would I want the whole thing to be raked up again when I explained, quite clearly, that night with Hamish and Isla and you, that I didn’t want to be roped in as some kind of consultant?’
‘But you wouldn’t be a consultant!’ I cry, stepping towards her.
She shrinks back. ‘No, clearly not. No one’s consulted me at
all!’
I nod distractedly. ‘Penny, please,’ I say. ‘I know I should have told you. I’ve really screwed up, and I’m sorry. But can you just tell me why you’re so against the idea? It would celebrate you and your success! You deserve that, don’t you? And everyone thinks it’ll be amazing.’
‘Yes, but who’d want to come?’ she barks, her voice rising now. Izzy has appeared in the doorway and is staring, wide-eyed, at us all. ‘In the end it was a failure,’ Penny adds, ‘so why have an event to supposedly celebrate something that went tits up?’
Izzy gasps audibly. ‘Iz, please go through to the living room,’ I say quickly.
‘But, Mum—’
‘Please, love. Just for a few minutes.’ Reluctantly, she slinks away.
Penny glowers at me. ‘Why would you want to put on an event that no one will care about, or come to see, and it’ll be humiliating all over again?’
‘It won’t be humiliating,’ I say firmly. ‘Why d’you say that?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she snaps, and I notice that Chrissie’s eyes are brimming with tears.
‘Ludo didn’t mean any harm,’ she says. ‘He just said, “Penny, Viv’s doing a show all about you!” Because he’d heard me and Tim talking about it. It hadn’t occurred to me that he’d say anything …’ She tails off, crying properly now. ‘I feel so responsible, Viv …’
‘Chrissie, it’s okay,’ I murmur, putting my arms around her as the tears start to roll down her cheeks.
‘It’s not. I’ve ruined everything.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ I say firmly. ‘You haven’t at all. You’re not responsible for this. Ludo isn’t either.’
‘He’s so upset,’ she adds. ‘You know how fond of you he is, how he loves coming here, and now he’s all worried that he’s done the wrong thing, and you won’t let him come over again. He loved staying with you that week when Lara was born, and the camp-out in your living room – my God, he’s still talking about that now, about the marshmallows and sausages and being allowed to stay up all night. It’s so much more fun at your place, that’s what he says—’
‘Chrissie, please,’ I cut in. ‘I’m not mad at him. He’s welcome here anytime. If I’m mad at anyone it’s myself, for pushing on with this without telling Penny.’ I turn to her. ‘I’m so sorry, Pen. I got carried away – obsessed, I suppose. The whole project’s been all-consuming and maybe I lost perspective along the way. But, look, when it comes down to it, it’s only fashion, it’s just clothes, and what I really care about is that you’re okay, and you too, Chrissie – and Ludo.’
Chrissie extracts a crumpled tissue from her jeans pocket and blows her nose into it. ‘I’m okay,’ she murmurs.
‘Penny?’ I look at her, wanting to hug her but aware that her mouth is still set in a terse line. ‘If you don’t want it to happen, then it won’t happen,’ I say firmly. ‘I’ll call the museum, the joiners, Spencer, the models – everyone who’s involved. Without your blessing, it can’t possibly go ahead.’
I see her swallow hard and look down at the floor, and hear a whining sound from the hallway. Bobby has been there the whole time. He must have sensed the tension in here and decided, wisely, to stay away. Izzy is out there now, murmuring comfortingly to him.
‘Okay,’ is all Penny says.
I sigh. ‘Would you like to come up to Spencer’s room and see the clothes? The Girl Friday collection, I mean? It really is amazing, what we’ve managed to gather together.’ She shakes her head. ‘Please come and see. You might change your mind, if you just have a look. Your old designs are there, all the key pieces that everyone loved …’ I stop, because I feel that I, too, could cry.
Penny’s face seems to soften, and she looks at me as if considering it for a moment. Then she turns and says, ‘I need to get Bobby home. He’ll be ravenous and I think I forgot to defrost his beef.’ And then they’re gone.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Friday, November 22
I consider calling in sick at work. However, guilt gnaws at me so I end up phoning Rose and telling her the whole story, the entire sorry mess, and when I’ve finished there’s silence.
‘Rose?’ I prompt her. ‘I’m sorry – I know I’ve been consumed by this these past few weeks, and maybe my mind hasn’t seemed completely on my job. I know I’ve been distracted. I’ve tried to keep everything going but—’
‘I had no idea you were doing this,’ she says, sounding genuinely shocked. ‘No idea at all.’
Christ, I don’t think this is going down well, and no wonder. Secret side projects imply not being fully committed to work, and if there’s one thing Rose insists on, it’s one hundred per cent commitment. ‘No, well, of course you wouldn’t,’ I murmur.
‘I mean, I had no idea you had this huge, other thing going on,’ she adds. ‘And you haven’t seemed distracted. Quite the opposite, in fact. You’ve seemed so … oh, I don’t know how to put it without sounding patronising.’ She pauses. ‘Look, I know I got it all wrong, with the Menopause Ambassador thing, so I’m trying to be careful here – but you’ve seemed so dynamic lately, so revved up and full of energy. Not that you aren’t always, of course! You really are. But this has been like … an extra layer, so to speak. And I wondered if you were, you know … over those symptoms.’ The hot flushes and all that, I assume she means. Despite everything, I smile.
‘They’re waning a little,’ I say.
‘Well, that’s good to hear. I wondered if it was this place,’ she adds with a chuckle, ‘with all the new, young people about, the general shaking up. Because it’s been better, hasn’t it?’ There’s a note of hope in her voice.
‘Er, yes, it has.’
‘But, actually … it was this all along.’
I inhale deeply. ‘It’s been really important to me.’
‘Yes, I can imagine. I also understand how disappointed you must be, so please, don’t even think about coming in today. Just take the day off and rest, relax, whatever it is you want to do.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, awash with gratitude.
Rose sighs. ‘Are you sure your friend’s not persuadable?’
‘Erm, I don’t think so, no.’
‘That is a great shame, Viv. For you, and for everyone really. But you tried your best, and you gave it your all, it sounds like. And that’s the best you could do.’
‘Thank you,’ I say again, feeling almost guilty about how shocking that conversation was to me. After all, it’s not as if Rose isn’t a decent person underneath the bluster and insensitivity. And I’m wondering now if, despite having me ordering her eardrops and dealing with pubes, a part of her actually cares.
Minutes later, she texts me: If you do get a min, could you ask that new maintenance guy to put that exercise ball somewhere else? It’s cluttering up my office and is useless as a shelf.
‘Have you called Hannah yet?’ Nick asks, when he phones.
‘Not yet,’ I reply. ‘I’m just trying to figure out the best way of putting it. She’ll be far from pleased, I do know that. They’ve designed the posters and programme and planned the exhibition space. Then there’s all the time they’ve spent on our meetings – it’s been a complete waste of time for everyone, and they’re stretched and understaffed as it is. And the worst thing is, Hannah assumed that Penny was on board by now, that she knew all about it and was fully supportive. And I didn’t put her right on that. I just let her think it, Nick. She’ll be livid …’
‘I’m sure she won’t—’
‘It was only Isla who knew we hadn’t told her yet. I haven’t even called her, either, and she’s one of my closest friends. I feel such an idiot.’
He clears his throat. I didn’t mean to blurt out all of that, but I couldn’t help myself. ‘Is there anything I can do? I mean … could I call anyone?’
‘No, don’t do that!’ I bark at him. ‘Please don’t call anyone. I’ll do it—’
‘Well, look …’ He pauses, and I hear him exhale. ‘I don’t
think you should phone anyone just yet.’
I pace across the kitchen, kicking one of my discarded trainers out of the way. ‘Well, I’ll have to soon. I can’t keep them hanging on. The sooner they know, the better, really. Press releases have gone out already so that’s going to be embarrassing for them – publicising something that’s not even going to be happening. And we were due to roll out all the online publicity this weekend. So I really do need to call Hannah today …’
‘Viv, please,’ Nick says firmly. ‘Just hang on for a little while—’
‘Stop telling me what to do,’ I snap, regretting it immediately.
‘I’m not,’ he says levelly. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant … maybe it’s best not to do anything yet, okay?’
I open the back door and step out into the garden, inhaling lungfuls of cool, crisp air. The sky is pale blue, the air sharp and wintry. It’s the kind of morning I love, usually: the sort that makes you feel alive. But it doesn’t today. Instead, I shiver in my thin sweater and skirt, and head straight back inside.
‘Can I come over?’ Nick asks. ‘Please, Viv. I’d just like to see you so we can talk about stuff.’
‘There’s not much to talk about really,’ I mutter.
‘Come on, I won’t keep you long. I can be over in a few minutes …’
‘All right then,’ I say huffily, knowing I’m coming across like a grumpy child. ‘But I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m going to be exactly sparkling company today.’
So he comes round, looking a little hesitant as I open the door to him. Bizarrely, Penny is standing rather stiffly at his side. ‘Oh!’ I exclaim. ‘Erm, come in …’ It must be the first time she hasn’t marched right into my house. My chest tightens, and I’m primed for another dose of her wrath. But she isn’t angry, it seems. She is rather subdued and, bizarrely, she is clutching a bottle of champagne. ‘As a peace offering,’ she says, barely audible. ‘I’m sorry,’ she adds, as the two of us settle onto the sofa, and Nick perches on a chair.