by Ruth Harrow
'Likewise,' I say, smiling back politely.
I catch sight of Nicole and for a second I think she looks satisfied. Blinking, I realise that she is cringing, suddenly very interested in the menu.
'I have to say, Nicole,' Lisa starts, picking up her own menu, 'I was very surprised you got in touch this week. I find it hard to believe you would even remember my surname, let alone invite me out like this.'
Nicole wafts a hand. 'Of course I remember you, Lisa. I couldn't forget you.'
'Really? I remember you were very popular back then – especially with the boys. Wasn't your name written on the door to the boys' toilet in final year?'
Nicole snorts. 'Oh God. I'd completely forgotten about that.' A spreading of rouge rises up her cheek, visible even under a thick layer of foundation.
Something has been bothering me since I first saw Lisa at the interview last week. 'So, Lisa. I have to say I'm very surprised you became an interior designer. I didn't think you had a creative streak in you. How did you get into it?'
Lisa starts talking about she chose art at A-level and how it was her college career advisor who suggested she go into interior design.
She speaks more to Nicole than myself; only glancing cautiously at me when she pauses, scrutinising me over a sip of her drink.
I add little to the conversation, wondering why Lisa even agreed to this outing; wondering myself, how I ended up in this situation.
Our food arrives and I find it hard to eat. I'm sure it would have been delicious, but I'm not enjoying it as much as I had hoped I would.
Lisa responds politely to Nicole's interrogation, talking more than she did during the interview at Jones and Stanton; to be honest, I think John and Ian didn't ask anywhere near as many questions.
Maybe it is the alcohol loosening her tongue, but I notice with some vicious satisfaction that she hasn't managed to lose the regional depth of her accent as I have.
Then I'm disgusted with myself. I just want this evening to be over.
I'm furious with Nicole for setting me up like this.
A throbbing starts in my temple, threatening to spread and worsen rapidly. I'm reluctant to sip too much wine; I want to keep a clear head in case I need to leave in a hurry.
Right now I'm on the fence about making an excuse and leaving.
Nicole isn't finishing grilling Lisa. In a way, I'm kind of enjoying the fact that she isn't having an easy time. I had been looking forward to this night out all week.
Nicole takes another sip of wine before firing her next question across the table. 'So Lisa, Heather says you had some kind of accident before we left school? You know, I noticed you walked in with a slight limp. It must have been bad. I don't remember – what happened again?'
Lisa stands up abruptly, making Nicole and I both jump. 'I'm just going to use the little girls' room. Those drinks have gone right through me. Back in a moment.'
Watching carefully, I wait for Lisa to disappear out of sight before I round on Nicole.
'A little warning might have been nice!' I hiss across at her.
She gulps down her wine, surprised at my unexpected outburst. 'I'm sorry, Heather. But if I'd have told you I'd invited her you wouldn't have shown up, would you?'
'Why invite her in the first place? How did you even find her? You said you didn't even know who she was!'
'Facebook, of course. She wasn't hard to find. How many people that went to our high school were called Lisa Richards?'
Of course. Nicole practically lives on social media when she isn't working... and when she is. That is how I suspect her workload literally piles up around her.
Nicole shrugs. 'I thought if you two were on the same project together, then it's in both your interests to get along. She glances over her shoulder. 'You know the saying, “keep your friends close, but your enemies closer”? Well, that is what you can do, isn't it? Cosy up to her, get an inside view of what she is doing and use it against her.'
'That's so sneaky. It's a design project, not an international spy mission, Nicole!'
'But there is so much at stake.'
Her eyes bore into mine, imploringly. For a moment, I wonder if she knows the real reason I'm after this job.
'You did all this, just to help me?' I ask. 'I don't believe you. You must have an ulterior motive. You want something else out of tonight, Nic.'
She looks sheepish. 'You know me too well.' She shrugs. 'You seemed really het up about seeing Lisa at the interview. I just wondered why, that's all...'
'Couldn't you just have asked me!'
She smirks, making herself look a little like a toad too. She and Lisa wouldn't look out of place in a pond together. 'Yes, Heather. I could have easily asked you. But would you have told me the truth? Honesty isn't your strong point, is it?'
'I'm back.' Lisa announces with an air of forced brightness. She obviously had seen the hissed conversation Nicole and I were having as she approached.
'We were just deciding what to order for dessert,' Nicole lies, straightening up. 'How about we share a sundae between us?'
'Can't, I'm afraid.' She gestures to the phone clutched in her hand. My brother just called. He's got a plumbing emergency. Water everywhere.'
'Well, can't he call someone?'
'He has, but it's Friday night and he couldn't find anyone close. I know my way around all manner of pipework. You have to in my profession. You'll be the same, won't you, Heather?'
'Hmm,' I mutter into my drink. I don't reveal that I usually leave that sort of thing up to contractors, and in my own home, James.
'That's a shame,' Nicole simpers. 'Maybe we can follow you there, do something to help.'
Nicole likes nothing more than to catch someone out on a lie. That's why I've always had to work hard to keep certain details from her.
I'd be mortified if anyone ever caught me out on my untruths.
Lisa seems to see through my friend. 'That's kind of you, but we'll be all right. I've learned a lot about plumbing in my career to be able to fix most things.'
We bid farewell to Lisa and I watch her retreat and disappear into the distance.
'I see what you mean,' Nicole whispers next to me. 'She is walking funny, isn't she? Wasn't keen on talking about it, though. Notice how she changed the subject?'
'Thanks for dropping me in it there.'
'Oh, Heather you're fine. You survived. Sound's like she deserved it anyway, the way you described her. Not that she seemed that bad. She was actually all right this evening, I wouldn't have guessed she had been a bully at all. Anyway, do you want some dessert now she's gone? The Trio of Tiny Desserts sounds pretty nice.'
I stare at Nicole, perusing the menu, seemingly without a care in the world.
The throbbing in my temples has now stretched over my skull like a tight, ruthless cap. 'Do you really think anyone deserves to be injured for life?'
'No, but you said she was a bully.'
'She was.'
'Well I bet that put a stop to her, didn't it? Might have made her think twice.'
'Yes... she never did anything to me after that.'
'Isn't it funny how things work out? You two just happening to meet again like that...' Nicole takes the last sip of her wine, looking thoughtful. 'Do you think it really is a coincidence?'
The pain hasn't stopped at my head, it is behind my eyes, making me nauseous. 'Is what a coincidence?'
'That you two ended up going after the same job? Do you think she might have followed you there?'
I stop rubbing the swollen veins at my temples and look across at Nicole. 'No, I didn't think of that. Why would she do such a thing?'
She shrugs. 'I don't know, Heather. She seems to be quite bitter about her school days. She kept changing the subject, didn't she? She doesn't seem to like you much, either.'
My nausea swells and I swallow hard. 'Thanks for noticing, Nicole,' I snap at her. 'Under normal circumstances, she would be the last person I would invite to dinner!'
&nb
sp; A young couple holding hands across a nearby table stop gazing into each other's eyes and look across at Nicole and me.
Nicole looks alarmed too. 'Heather, calm down, I'm only joking! I just thought I would try and clear the air for you. You're not very good at it – I thought I would force you two to make friends, that's all. You could have tried harder with tonight in my opinion. I mean, Lisa made up a story and left in quite a hurry, didn't she?'
I've taken a sip of water in an attempt to settle my stomach. At Nicole's words, I slam it down on the table abruptly, causing liquid to spill over the top and spread like a dark stain through the cream tablecloth.
'I'm sorry you feel that way, Nicole. Maybe the next time you decide to invite random school enemies out to dinner with us, you should let me know and I'll stay at home!'
Nicole looks mortified and her eyes shine. 'Heather, I'm sorry.' She glances all around her. 'Look, just sit down. People are staring. I think maybe your blood sugar is running low. You hardly touched your dinner. Let's get some calories in you.'
I'm surprised to find myself on my feet again. Glancing around, I see Nicole is right. Other faces from tables further afield are now flickering towards me.
Nicole's eyes plead with me and she clasps my hand, tugging at it.
With some satisfaction, I pull away and reach under the trailing tablecloth for my handbag before storming out.
A stream of faces swivels towards me as I make my exit, but I don't care. I am seething with a rage I have never felt before.
12
The cold hits me like a screeching train as I step out into the night.
Since I stepped into Nicole's car right from my driveway earlier, I had no need to put on a coat; not wanting the burden of it in the restaurant.
Now I regret that decision as I shiver at the sudden temperature difference. What had seemed like luxurious fabric as I had dressed for dinner now seems overly thin and flimsy.
I huddle my arms around myself as I start walking.
I know Nicole will still be inside the restaurant hastily settling the bill. So I walk quickly, putting as much distance between her and myself as my heels will allow before she can catch up.
As I walk, I become aware of how quiet the streets are. The restaurant had already been out of the town centre – the reason Nicole and I chose it. I had agreed, thinking we were having a quiet dinner between friends.
My steps echo noisily off the dirty brick walls. Passing a row of shabby terraces, I get the feeling I am being watched.
My pace slows and I glance across the street in time to see the silent swish of a net curtain as it is replaced.
I stop, unease rising.
For a second, I thought I saw the darkened, broad outline of Lisa retreat behind the curtain.
That's ridiculous, I tell myself. Lisa won't live somewhere like this.
I know how much our profession pays, and if Lisa is at the level where she renovates hotels, then she will be doing well indeed. Better than me, anyway.
Unless...
Nicole spoke jestingly about Lisa going after the same job as me on purpose... Could there be any truth in it?
It would have been all too easy for Lisa to have found out what my next move was simply from my social media posts.
When I think about it, I know I have posted too much information; but I didn't do it for vanity, only in the hope of building my career.
James can always be heard in the background as I prepare a post, warning me not to splash too many intimate details of our life online.
As I venture further across town, my overactive mind is fuelled by grimy shadows and dingy street lights.
It is a relief when I turn a corner and am thrust right into Leopold Square's busy nightlife.
I pass a nightclub with a queue trailing around the corner, remembering there was a time when I would have been part of it.
The pounding bass of a bar further down the street reaches my ears, muffling the sound of my heels so much that I can't hear them at all.
The door swings open as I approach and two men, eyes glazed by drink, step out from the neon-purple lights inside.
The eyes of the taller one fall onto me, blatantly staring me up and down. 'All right, love?'
My pace quickens and I can almost hear my heels again, but before I'm out of earshot, the other man says something and they both burst into loud, oafish chortles.
I'm thankful when a taxi rank looms ahead. My arms and legs are numb with cold, and my feet are blistering in various places.
My head throbs worse than ever as I get in and request my road in Hope Valley. Swallowing hard again, I hope I'm not sick. Although I suspect the wizened, white-haired driver has probably seen it all before, especially on a busy Friday night.
My phone buzzes through the wall of my bag and I pull it out to see a handful of missed calls from Nicole and a new text message
Heather hunny, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have sprung a surprise like this on you – I honestly thought I was doing you a favour by inviting Lisa. I thought the ice would break or something and it would help you. I don't even know what I was thinking now – it was a ridiculous idea.
Please call me back when you get this to let me know you're OK. You just stormed off on a Friday night in the city – anything could happen to you! Call me xx
With a renewed wave of anger, I stuff my phone back into the depths of my handbag. A twinge of guilt tickles my stomach, but I decide to ignore Nicole anyway.
Maybe it will be her turn to stew for a few hours. See how she likes it.
Again, I'm disgusted with myself for having such a thought.
I don't like what is happening to me lately. Ever since coming back from Milan I've been different. Angry.
It is unusual for me to lose my temper at all. I think Nicole was under the impression that I didn't even have one. No wonder she looked so horrified at my outburst.
I'm disconcerted at the uncertainty of what I might do next.
13
Once I get home, I shut the front door behind me and double-check it is locked. My walk through the city streets unnerved me, but the thing that scares me the most is the way I lost my temper.
I've always been so placid, in control. It's a skill I pride myself on.
In the hallway, I shiver. The heating in the taxi had been turned up high and now I have left the stuffy warmth of it, I feel almost feverish. The pounding in my head does nothing to help.
I reach for the nearest radiator – it is icy cold.
Moving through to the utility room, I reach again for white metal – but it is hard and cold.
I swear. The boiler must have broken down.
There is little difference between the temperature outside and in here. Even though the house is empty, I had expected to be welcomed home, at the very least, by warmth.
The lack of it makes me realise how alone I am out here with the house backing onto the woods.
In winter it is particularly bleak. Now the rosy warmth of the heating is gone, a layer of separation from the harsh elements of wintertime has been removed. Edging me one step closer to the cold hand of nature.
James's thick country jacket hangs nearest to me on the coat hooks above the oak bench. I unhook it and wrap myself up firmly. Ditching my heels, my feet gratefully slip into my snug hiking boots.
It takes me less than a minute to find a torch in my organised gadget drawer in the kitchen.
My hand extends to turn the lock on the patio doors, but it doesn't give at all.
It is already unlocked.
A new chill rushes over my skin, causing a thousand fine hairs to stand up stiff.
My head pounds again to a nauseating level and I try to shrug the fear away.
I can't see into the blackness of my secluded garden. All that is visible is my own uncertain reflection. My pale face looks overly small atop James's dark green coat.
Nicole is right, I do look pasty. And ill. I'm the thinnest I've ever been
, but it somehow doesn't suit me, it just makes me look older.
Slowly, I swing open the door and look out into the garden.
Immediately, a loud rustle of movement in the largest tree causes me to gasp out loud.
It's just a bird. My imagination is running away with me again.
I take a deep breath and continue to the outbuilding. I wish James was here.
I twist the shiny knob of the building and step inside. It is the same temperature as the house out here.
I'd completely overlooked getting a light installed inside. The tiny concrete room holds nothing but the boiler and I never pictured having to come out here in the dark like this.
It had seemed so neat, so organised to move the unsightly device out here. I didn't want the messy tangle of pipes or a bulky white box in my perfect house.
I'm not a huge fan of radiators either, but James had really put his foot down when he discovered my plans to rip up the floors and install underfloor heating.
I direct the beam of light onto the boiler, not entirely sure what I'm doing. The machine hums and clicks in a repeating cycle.
I remove the cover with difficulty and look inside with no idea what I am looking at.
Lisa's words float back to me out of the darkness. I know my way around all manner of pipework. You have to in my profession. You'll be the same, won't you, Heather?
No, I am not.
I can't imagine how Lisa would have an intimate knowledge of that area of expertise. I'm an interior designer not a plumber or gas engineer. I usually hire a professional contractor for jobs like that.
Could Lisa tell by my reaction that I'm clueless on the topic? What does it matter anyway? I won't see her once the project is finished.
It's just a shame Jones and Stanton liked her bathroom designs.
A thought occurs to me. Did John like my designs at all? Or did he just want to butter me up? Maybe he is only interested in my name for his new product launch and doesn't really like what I did. Those designs weren't an example of my best work. I'd even been convinced beforehand that he would reject them outright.