Friend Request Page 18

  ‘Ooh great idea. I can tell them all about her job in “fashion”.’ He does ironic quote marks with his fingers.

  ‘What do you mean? She does work in fashion, doesn’t she?’

  He snorts. ‘Well, if you call working as a sales assistant in a clothes shop “fashion”, then yes, I suppose she does. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t care what anyone does for a living, it’s just the pretence that gets to me. She wouldn’t even have told me; it was just a slip of the tongue on her part when she was talking about meeting me after work.’

  ‘But that flat in Kensington… how does she afford that if she works in a clothes shop? It must be worth millions.’

  He looks at me strangely. ‘You don’t know her very well, do you?’

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ I say, surprised. ‘I hadn’t seen her for over twenty-five years until the other week.’

  ‘Aah,’ he breathes. ‘She didn’t tell me that. She implied that you were old friends who were still in regular touch.’

  ‘No, not at all.’ Why would Sophie have wanted to give Pete that impression? ‘So how does she afford it?’

  ‘Simple. It’s not hers,’ Pete says. ‘Belongs to some friend of hers who really does have a high-flying job, works away a lot in Hong Kong. Sophie house-sits for her when she’s away.’

  ‘Ohhh.’ The note of glee in my own voice makes me uneasy. I take a glug of warm wine to try and keep the schadenfreude at bay, but it stings as it fizzes down my throat and sits burning in my stomach. So all is not as it seems in Sophie’s world. No wonder she looked so shifty when I asked her if she lived there alone.

  ‘I wonder why she told you,’ I say.

  ‘Well, once she’d made the slip-up about her job, she could hardly claim to be able to afford that place. And I think maybe…’ he trails off, his cheeks reddening.

  ‘Maybe what?’

  ‘Well, if she thought there was a future for us, she wouldn’t have been able to sustain the lie, would she? Her friend’s due home from Hong Kong next week so she’ll be back to her one-bed flat in Croydon.’

  I half-laugh, not because there’s anything particularly wrong with Croydon, but because of the contrast it presents with the elegant Georgian facades of South Kensington. I’m about to ask more when I feel a hand on my elbow, and turn to see Sam. The smile fades from my face. Up until now I’ve been feeling quite proud of how I coped with seeing him, but his fingers are a red-hot poker on my skin and I step back, folding my arms across my body.

  Sam smiles at Pete. ‘I’m so sorry, can I borrow her for a minute?’

  Pete can offer no defence against the charm offensive that is Sam Parker.

  ‘Oh, sure, OK.’ He walks off stiffly, having no option but to head back to Sophie.

  Sam turns back to me, and my confidence oozes away with every second that passes. I’m drunk now, my defences lower, and I’m struggling to maintain a calm exterior, desperate not to let him see the effect he can still have on me. I try to relax, deliberately allowing my arm to return to my side; take a slow sip of my drink. I can feel the heat and hustle of the crowd around me, but it’s all at a slight remove. The room has shrunk to the two of us, held in our own private atmosphere where the air is cooler and the silences longer, and what we don’t say has more power than our spoken words.

  ‘So you know then.’ I force myself to speak normally. ‘About this Maria thing.’

  ‘Yes.’ He looks at me, puzzled. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You knew, didn’t you, when you dropped Henry off on Saturday?’

  ‘Sophie said you knew then as well. She said she’d already phoned you,’ I say, knowing I sound like a petulant child.

  ‘Yes, I did, but I thought if you didn’t want to talk to me about it I should respect that. It must have been horrible for you.’

  He looks genuinely troubled and upset for me and with a stab of pain I remember the other side of him, how kind he can be. In many ways I am stronger and even happier without him, and I’ve coped better than I ever imagined I would on my own; but there are times when it would be wonderful not to be responsible for everything, when I would give up all I’ve gained just to have someone to take the burden of everyday life from me. Sometimes I’m not even sure if what I remember of our relationship is the truth, or whether time and distance has warped my perception. I don’t even know if there is such a thing as the truth when it comes to relationships, or only versions of it, shaped by love and fear and the way we lie to ourselves and others.

  ‘Have you heard anything more?’ he says. ‘From whoever set up the page, I mean?’

  ‘No.’ I don’t want to let Sam in any more than I have to. It’s bad enough that he knows about this. I don’t want it to be the way he seeps back into my life.

  ‘And are there… has she friend-requested anyone else?’

  ‘Just one. Nathan Drinkwater.’

  ‘Who is that, do you know?’ he says.

  ‘I’ve no idea. It’s not someone from school, is it?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of him. Look, Louise, you know I’ve always stood by you over this, don’t you? I helped you, I was the only one who understood.’

  He’s right, and it’s why I miss him so much still, despite everything. He is about to say more, but his attention is caught by Pete and Sophie across the hall, who appear to be arguing. She’s laughing but he doesn’t seem to be enjoying the joke; in fact he looks to be getting angrier and angrier. Sam eyes them with interest.

  ‘Anyway, I just wanted to say I don’t think you should mention anything to Tim about this Facebook thing if he turns up,’ Sam says. ‘It would be too upsetting for him.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to, Sam. What do you think I am, some complete emotional dunce?’ I’m back on the defensive. I’d forgotten what conversation with him could be like. Like being pulled from a deep sleep straight up onto your toes, skipping around like a boxer, constantly alert for the next jab.

  ‘No, of course not. Sorry, it was silly of me. I know you wouldn’t do something like that.’ There’s a silence while he seems to be weighing something up.

  ‘It’s great to see you properly, Louise. How are you? Are you doing OK?’

  He puts a hand on my arm again.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say, taking a step back, wine slopping from my glass and running down my wrist. I’m not so drunk that I’ve totally lost Polly’s voice in my head, telling me to keep my guard up, not let him see any vulnerability. I swap my glass to the other hand and raise my wrist to my mouth to lick the wine, stop it running any further down my arm and onto my dress. Then I see Sam’s eyes on my tongue and I stop, lowering my hand, the wine cold and sticky on my skin. He takes a step towards me and opens his mouth to speak, when there’s a commotion on the other side of the room. Pete throws up a hand in what looks like disgust, Sophie flinching dramatically as if he were going to hit her, and strides off, out of the hall. Sophie glares after him, her face alive with rage and humiliation.

  ‘I’d better go and see if Sophie’s OK.’ I need to get out of this conversation before things get out of control, before I start to lose myself.

  Sam looks surprised and a little hurt. ‘I thought we could have a catch-up. I know you don’t want to hear about… you know… Daisy and all that, but there’s other things – how do you think Henry’s getting on at school? He never tells me anything.’

  ‘Fine, he’s fine. Make an appointment to see his teacher if you’re that interested. I’ll see you later.’ I practically run away, not to Sophie, but to the relative privacy of the toilets. I lean against the cubicle door, feeling my heart beating all over my body. I put my hands on either side of me, pressing against the wall, as if that will stop me from falling. I can still feel the heat of his hand on my arm, his eyes on my tongue.

  The rush of optimism I felt a short while ago has totally dissipated. When my breathing has slowed to something approaching normal, I go back into the hall and across the room I see Sophie and Sam de
ep in conversation, his hand on her arm. My stomach gives a little twinge. The jokey flirtation of their teenage friendship always upset me, and although I have kept it carefully filed away, my jealousy has never been far from the surface, threatening to burst out, ugly and full of accusation. There’s also something else, something about the way his hand rests on her arm, that bothers me. I look around for someone to talk to. It’s only ten o’clock, I can’t admit defeat and leave yet.

  Esther and Brett are sitting on the other side of the hall, holding hands and chatting animatedly to a couple of women I vaguely recognise. Brett has hardly left her side all evening, holding her hand, his arm around her. I guess she’s more nervous than she seems. For the next hour I sit with them, nodding and smiling if anyone looks at me, laughing when they laugh, barely joining in the conversation. Being the first to leave seems like such an admission of defeat, but as soon as others start to do so, citing babysitters and early starts, I make my excuses too. I can’t face saying goodbye to anyone else and I don’t want to risk another encounter with Sam anyway, so I find my coat and slink out of the hall, dropping my name badge on the table as I go.

  In the school car park I call the taxi number I carefully programmed in earlier and ask them to come as soon as possible, sitting on a low wall to wait. The sound of the music from the hall rises every time the doors open to expel small groups, coming out in twos and threes to smoke. All of them laugh about how rebellious it feels to be lighting up on school property, as if they’re the first ones to think of the joke. My breath streams out as I sit unseen in the darkness and I pull my coat around me more closely. I’ve forgotten my gloves, so I fold my arms and tuck my hands under, hugging myself tightly.

  ‘Hello again,’ says a voice from the shadows.

  ‘Oh my God, don’t do that to me!’ I jump up, clutching my chest.

  ‘Sorry,’ says Pete. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I was hoping you were still here though.’

  ‘What on earth are you doing skulking around out here?’

  ‘I couldn’t stay in there. Sophie was being so vile to me, and I don’t know anyone else. I didn’t want to drag you away from your evening, so I thought I’d wait out here for you.’

  ‘How long have you been out here?’

  ‘Not sure. An hour?’

  ‘But why are you waiting for me? What do you expect me to do about it?’

  ‘Sophie booked us into a B&B, but I can’t go back with her now.’

  ‘A B&B? On your third date?’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Pete looks slightly shamefaced. ‘Anyway, I thought maybe you could give me a lift back to London.’

  ‘A lift? I can’t drive, I’ve had loads to drink. I’m leaving my car here and staying at the Travelodge. Taxi’ll be here soon.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’ He looks miserable. ‘What the fuck am I going to do? The last train from Norwich back to London goes at ten. I’ve missed it by miles.’

  I can’t help smiling. ‘It’s your policy that’s got you into this. Why don’t you come back to the Travelodge? I only booked it today, I’m sure they’ll have rooms. Where’s your car, or did Sophie drive?’

  ‘No, I did. She doesn’t have a car. It’s here too.’ He gestures up the school drive. ‘We drove over from the B&B, I was going to come and collect it in the morning.’

  ‘OK, well, we can come over together tomorrow.’

  We are silent in the taxi, both wrapped in our own thoughts. I check in first, then Pete enquires about a room.

  ‘Sorry, we’re full.’ The young girl behind the desk is supremely uninterested in what this means for Pete.

  ‘What, you’ve got nothing? Not even… I don’t know… a room that’s not made up? Or one you keep back for emergencies?’

  ‘Emergencies?’ the girl repeats, as if Pete has suggested he engage in some sort of deviant sexual practice with her. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He looks at me pleadingly. ‘What am I going to do?’

  We both know that there’s only one solution that doesn’t involve him calling another taxi to drive him around the cheap hotels in the area, one after another, in the vain hope that one will have a room. He knows that he can’t suggest it though – it’s too presumptuous – so he is tacitly leaving it up to me. I can’t let him spend the night on a park bench. I turn to the girl.

  ‘Does the bed in my room come apart? I mean, can you make it into two singles?’

  ‘No.’ She looks from me to him, her interest piqued.

  ‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ Pete says hastily. ‘Oh my God, this is kind of you. Thank you so much.’

  In the room, we are studiedly polite to each other, taking turns in the bathroom. I thank God I brought decent pyjamas and he declines to take anything off other than his overcoat.

  ‘Look, you don’t really have to sleep on the floor,’ I say when he emerges from the bathroom. ‘Just stay on your own side, OK?’

  ‘Of course. That would be great. If you’re sure.’ Pete gets under the covers. If he was any closer to the edge he would be on the ground. I climb into my side and turn off the bedside light.

  ‘Good night then,’ I say stiffly.

  ‘Good night. And thanks again.’

  I pretend to fall asleep straight away, and soon his breathing evens and slows – either he’s pretending too or he really is asleep. I stare at the hump of his back, barely visible in the darkness. At the time it felt like a basic human kindness to let Pete share my room. He seems totally decent, apart from his questionable taste in women. But here in the darkness I feel vulnerable. Who is this man? Eventually I fall into an uneasy doze, waking every half-hour or so until around four o’clock when, exhausted, I fall into a deeper sleep.

  I slowly become aware of the noise of the TV news, and turn over. Light streams into the room between the gap in the curtains. The bed is empty, the door to the bathroom open.

  ‘Pete?’

  No reply. I look around blearily. His shoes and coat are gone.

  Before I have time to wonder why the TV is on, the voice of the newsreader pierces my early-morning fug and her words begin to make their way into my brain.

  ‘The dead body of a woman has been discovered by dog walkers in the woods behind a school in Sharne Bay, Norfolk, this morning. Police have not released the woman’s name, but it is thought she was attending a reunion at the school last night. They are asking anyone with any information to contact them as soon as possible.’

  Chapter 21

  1989

  Back in the hall, I scanned the room. It was getting darker outside now, so the strange twilight had been replaced by a more conventional disco atmosphere. The heat was rising and, as an overweight boy brushed past me on his way from the dance floor, I felt the dampness of his skin against my arm and smelled fresh sweat and cheap aftershave.

  Sophie was talking to Matt; she flicked her hair over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving his face. She had to put her lips close to his ear to be heard over the music, and they gradually moved closer and closer together, the heat from him palpable even from where I stood across the hall. I saw Sophie put her hand softly on the side of his neck to draw him even closer to say something into his ear, and as she did so, Matt bent to kiss her. She pulled away giggling and gave him a playful push. I watched as she danced away from him towards Claire and Joanne, laughing coyly at him over her shoulder. When I looked back at Matt’s face, he wasn’t laughing at all.

  Maria and Esther were sitting at the far side of the room talking animatedly, one of them leaning in every now and then to shout something misheard into the other’s ear. There was no sign of Tim. As I watched I saw Maria look around quickly and take a miniature bottle of vodka out of her dress and top up the coke with it. Good. That would make her less likely to taste anything else in there.

  I saw Esther gesturing to the door near them, Maria shaking her head, and then Esther leaving, presumably to go to the toilet. Maria sipped her drink, then put it down on th
e empty chair to her right, looking awkward in the way people do when they are unexpectedly left alone in a busy room. This was the best chance I was going to get.

  I threaded my way through the room, watching Maria all the way. I probably didn’t have that long, although Esther had gone to the smaller toilet block on the far side of the hall where there was more likely to be a queue. Maria was half-turned away from me, watching the dance floor as I came up on her left. I sat down in the empty chair next to her and she turned, smiling, assuming I was Esther back from the toilets. Her smile faded when she saw that it was me.

  ‘What do you want?’ Her hand went to the little gold heart around her neck, twisting it so that the tip of her finger bulged red either side where the chain was biting into it.