Jane Green - Bookends

She shrugs. ‘Not hard work. You get used to it, and this is, I suppose what’s expected of me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, every time anyone writes about the new league of single superwomen, I’m usually in there at the top of the list, and they always want to photograph me at home and examine the contents of my fridge, and quite frankly I wouldn’t want to disappoint.’

‘So what does a single superwoman keep in the fridge?’

Portia laughs. ‘Help yourself,’ she says, and I get up and open the fridge.

‘Portia,’ I start to laugh. ‘Lucy would have a fit if she saw this.’ Because there is, quite simply, nothing remotely edible in the fridge. There are two shelves devoted to champagne and white wine, another devoted to bottles of mineral water, both still and sparkling, and a few tins at the back which on closer inspection reveal themselves to be – surprise, surprise – caviar.

‘What do you live on?’ I come back into the living room, shaking my head in amazement.

‘I eat out mostly,’ she says. ‘And occasionally I’ll pick something up on my way home from work.’

‘What if you have dinner parties? And I’m assuming you must have dinner parties, given the size of your dining room table.’

‘Darling,’ she says, fixing me with a mocking look, ‘what do you think caterers were invented for?’

I laugh, and then a question occurs to me. ‘Portia, I can see why you’re portrayed as a single superwoman, but why are you?’

‘Why am I what?’

‘Why are you single? I just don’t understand it.’

Is it my imagination or does Portia suddenly look slightly uncomfortable? ‘I just haven’t found the right person yet,’ she says breezily, but somehow I don’t believe her. Then again, this is typical of Portia. She probably has some terrible tale of loss and heartbreak which makes my dalliance with Martin look like child’s play, but this is what Portia does when she doesn’t want to talk about something: she switches off.

She pours some more champagne for us both, and then sits back, looking at me over the rim of her glass, and before I have a chance to ask more questions she deftly changes the subject.

‘How have these last few years been for all of you?’ she says, continuing without waiting for an answer. ‘You and Si told me a bit about your lives at the bookshop the other week, but what about Josh? Is he happy? I must say that Lucy seems… she seems charming . Not perhaps what I expected, but obviously the relationship works… Does it?’

‘Does it what?’

‘Does it work ?’

‘Josh and Lucy? God, they’re amazing. Well, you’ll see for yourself later on, but they’re the most perfect couple imaginable. I know what you mean about Lucy not being what you’d expect – you should have seen the horrors he kept picking up throughout his early twenties. All these identical Sloanes called Serena who were desperate to get Josh into Daddy’s business.’

‘Lucy definitely doesn’t fit into that category,’ Portia says. ‘So how come he ended up falling for Lucy?’

I think back to the story of how Josh and Lucy met, how they fell in love, and even as I think about it I feel a slow smile spread upon my face, because after all these years, after all this time, the memory of it still warms the cockles of my heart.

Josh and Lucy, as I now tell Portia, are in no doubt that they were meant to be together, and Lucy has always been convinced that fate played a pretty strong hand, because had it not been for that skiing trip, they would never have met.

Of course I don’t tell Portia all the details. I tell her they met on a skiing trip, that Lucy was the chalet girl, that Josh was with a ghastly woman called Venetia. And then I look at my watch and let out a yelp, and we order a minicab and dash over to Josh and Lucy’s.

And throughout the entire cab journey, Portia asks me questions about Josh, about Lucy, about Max, and I’m not entirely sure why I don’t give her the full story, why I don’t tell her more, but I find myself clamming up slightly. Perhaps I’m not entirely comfortable with her interest. Perhaps I’m starting to think that Si might be right, that she might be up to something after all.

As usual, Si opens the door to Josh and Lucy’s house and welcomes us in, giving Portia a brief hug before turning to me and leaning forward to give me a kiss. And then he stops.

‘Oh my God!’

I smile.

‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!’

Lucy comes running out of the kitchen, and Josh comes running out of the living room, and within seconds all three of them are staring at me open-mouthed.

‘Can I touch it?’ Si whispers reverently, as he reaches out his hand and softly strokes my head as if I were a cat, while Portia looks on with faint amusement.

‘Look at our Cath!’ Lucy beams proudly. ‘Quite the supermodel! Cath, you look gorgeous, look at your fantastic hair, and your sweater! Good Lord, Cath, pink will have to be your colour from now on.’

‘You look amazing,’ Josh says, when he finally recovers, and he catches Portia’s eye and immediately goes over to welcome her.

I watch, and I can see Si watching out of the corner of his eye as Josh leans down to give her a kiss, and Portia, instead of kissing the air as she has done with the rest of us, plants her lips softly, but very definitely, on Josh’s cheek, and I look at Si in alarm as he raises an eyebrow.

‘Oh look, you daft thing.’ Lucy walks past Josh with my coat and, seeing Josh, laughs, then reaches up to wipe the lipstick off his face, as a slow flush creeps up Josh’s face.

We go into the living room, and because we’re so late I’m certain that James will already be in there, so imagine my surprise when the vile Will turns round from examining the bookshelves and gives me his evil lizard smile.

‘Hello, Catherine,’ he says, extending a hand that I reluctantly take, wondering how a person’s eyes can make them look so cold. ‘Nice to see you again.’

‘And you,’ I say, nodding, extracting my hand and shooting a filthy look at Si for not telling me Will was coming. ‘This is Portia.’ I do my best to appear polite by introducing them, and I edge towards the door.

I can see that Will obviously approves of Portia, as he suddenly flashes a charming and disarming smile at her, and for the first time I see a hint of what Alison Bailey was referring to when she said he could be the most charming man on earth.

But I am not fooled.

‘I am not fooled,’ I hiss to Si, as I go into the kitchen to try to discover what has happened to James.

‘Be nice,’ Si warns. ‘It’s only one evening, and I knew if I’d told you he was coming you wouldn’t have come, would you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Truth.’

‘No.’

‘Listen, sweets.’ Si stops and looks at me very seriously. ‘I know you don’t like him, but please try and make an effort. You don’t have to love him, but I think he might be around for a while, and it would make me so happy if you could just come to some sort of amicable arrangement. Not friends necessarily, just being on polite terms.’

‘Okay,’ I grumble, as Si puts his arms around me and gives me a hug. ‘I’ll try. Is James in the kitchen?’

Si disengages himself from my arms and says, ‘No. Why?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ and I walk into the kitchen, ignoring the eyes boring into the back of my neck.

Lucy hands me a bowl of Indonesian crisps and instructs me to take them into the living room, and just as I head out of the room I turn my head and say in a nonchalant manner, ‘Isn’t James coming tonight?’

‘Oh bugger!’ Lucy slaps her forehead. ‘Oh blast! Oh damn! I knew there was something I’d forgotten.’ She puts her head in her hands, then looks up at me with guilty eyes.