Jane Green - Bookends

‘Oh, Cath, I’m sorry, can you forgive me?’ She looks mortified, and I feel a flash of anger at her because this is just so typical. Typical of her to be so scatty and to forget. This is exactly what Si was talking about, why he warned me off going into business with her. I mean, Christ, how could you forget to invite someone to a dinner party?

‘Bugger. And you look so gorgeous, I can’t believe it.’ She’s genuinely devastated and I start to forgive her. It’s not the end of the world. I’m just disappointed.

‘What happened?’

‘I phoned him and then the machine picked up just as my call waiting went and so I left it and I just completely forgot to call him back. I don’t believe it,’ and then her eyes light up. ‘Let’s call him now!’

‘No.’ I lay a firm hand on Lucy’s arm, which is reaching for the phone. ‘If it’s okay with you, I’d be much happier if you didn’t.’

‘Oh, Cath. I am so, so sorry. Can you forgive me?’

‘Don’t worry,’ I say, but I feel like laying my head on my arms and sinking into a deep sleep. It’s not even as if I’m terribly upset, I’m just weary. Weary of this whole relationship game. Weary even though I’ve only taken one tiny tentative step back into the lion’s den, and already I’m learning that I’m just not equipped to win this one.

I like being alone. I always have. But it’s not the present that worries me. What worries me is that I’ll have to spend the next fifty years on my own, and that’s something that I really don’t want to have to think about. But in the meantime I’m used to my own company, and I haven’t had to think about anyone else for months. Years .

But the thing is that since I’ve met James, since everyone started banging on and on about my not-so-secret admirer, I’d started to find it quite exciting. I’d forgotten that I don’t get involved because the pain just isn’t worth it. All that flattery and attention distracted me from any pain that might have been lurking around the corner, but of course the pain got me in the end. It always does.

I take the bowl into the living room and sink miserably into the sofa, as Josh looks at me with a worried expression, then leaves the room, presumably to find out what’s wrong.

Portia and Will are deep in discussion, and, bizarre as this may sound, it almost looks as if he’s flirting with her. Bizarre only because I had him down as a complete misogynist, but then again maybe it’s just me. Maybe he only gives time to women like Portia.

I watch Si trying to push his way into the conversation, only to be ignored, and eventually he comes over to me with a shrug and an apologetic smile.

‘They seem to be getting on like a house on fire.’

‘I know. Thank God someone seems to finally like him.’

‘Why? Have Josh and Lucy already expressed disapproval, then?’

‘Not yet,’ he says, wincing, ‘but I’ve got a horrible feeling this evening isn’t going to run smoothly.’

‘God, you and your bloody feelings,’ I laugh, as Josh and Lucy walk in, having finally got the food in the oven, the glasses on the table, and the devilspawn in bed.

‘Will.’ Josh pours him some more wine. ‘Si tells us you live in Clerkenwell. How do you find it.’

‘I love it,’ Will says. ‘I’ve got the most incredible loft in probably the best building in Clerkenwell, and there’s always something going on in the neighbourhood.’

‘Will’s been thinking about moving to Soho, though,’ Si interjects in his best husbandly way.

‘Really? Why?’

‘I’m not seriously thinking, it’s just that the only problem with Clerkenwell is it’s pretty much in the back of beyond and I miss being in the centre of things. Don’t you feel the same way living here?’

The hairs on my back bristle, but luckily he wasn’t talking to me and I leave it to Lucy to deal with that last comment.

‘Here? Why on earth should we feel that living here ?’

‘Well, the suburbs.’

‘But this isn’t the suburbs,’ Lucy says pointedly. ‘It’s West Hampstead. We’re practically in town.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Will sneers. ‘This is the nineties version of suburbia. A high street lined with cafés and local ethnic restaurants, and the whole area filled to bursting with young marrieds like yourself with their 2.4 children and a four-wheel drive. It’s the updated version of Abigail’s Party . Mike Leigh would have a ball.’

I’m dying to open my mouth, but I’m frightened that if I do the damage will be irreparable, not only to any future relationship I may or may not have with Will, but more importantly to the relationship I have with Si.

‘You are joking?’ Lucy says very quietly, as Will shrugs and says he’s not. ‘First of all, Will ,’ and I can tell by the inflection on his name that Lucy is seriously pissed off, which is something that doesn’t happen all that often, ‘I can tell you that West Hampstead is a fifteen-minute drive to the West End, and a ten-minute ride on the Thameslink to the City, which I think you’ll find would not merit a labelling of suburbia anywhere.

‘Secondly, irrespective of that, what exactly is wrong with an area that caters to the needs of, as you put it, young marrieds ?’

Will shrugs disdainfully. ‘It’s just, well. Look at you all. You think you’re so cutting-edge and trendy, with your stainless-steel top-of-the-range kitchen equipment and your Alessi corkscrews, but this, all of you, are just the nineties version of suburbia,’ this last said with an unmistakable sneer, and I almost gasp in shock.

‘I’m not entirely sure of the point you’re making,’ Lucy says, her voice ice-cold, ‘but I’m certain that whatever it is I don’t agree with it. So what if we have Alessi corkscrews and four-wheel drives…’ She takes a breath and is about to carry on, but Portia steps in and expertly changes the subject to calm everyone down.

‘Speaking of four-wheel drives,’ she says coolly, ‘I’ve been thinking about trading in my car for one of those jeeps. I quite fancy the idea of being so high up on the road – it adds a whole new perspective to my superiority complex.’

Everyone laughs, and the tension is shattered, and I wonder how I had forgotten Portia’s ability to do this – to diffuse situations, to calm things down, to take control. For a few seconds I am immensely grateful to Portia for coming back, because I’m quite certain that given a few minutes longer I would have punched Will in the mouth.

We somehow manage to sit and make small talk, and Si goes to sit next to Will, obviously protective of him tonight, and I watch Si watching Will with big, adoring eyes, and I can’t help but note that Will barely even turns to look at him.

If I were to give him the benefit of the doubt I’d say that Will was trying so hard to make a good impression on everyone else that he was temporarily abandoning Si, but somehow I don’t think it is that. I just don’t think he’s all that interested, really, but God, how I hope I’m wrong.

Eventually we stand up and all file into the dining room, as I give Lucy’s arm a squeeze, because none of us has even been into the dining room for about two years – we always eat in the kitchen – and I find myself seated next to Josh at the top and then, thank God, next to Si.

Will walks past my chair on his way to his place, and as he passes he leans down and touches my sleeve. ‘Very nice,’ he says, and I open my mouth to thank him for such an unexpected compliment. ‘Shame it’s not pure cashmere,’ and with that he walks off round the table.

Portia is on the other side of Josh, opposite me, and thankfully next to Will, and in the commotion as people take their seats Si leans over and whispers, ‘Bet you a fiver she flirts with Josh all night.’ I raise my eyes to see Portia watching us, and a guilty flush threatens to rise, but I give her a strained smile and ignore Si.