Jane Green - Bookends

‘I know this might sound like a lie, given the events of the latter part of the evening, but I really did have a lovely time.’

‘I bet you say that to all the boys,’ James says, a small grin on his face, ‘next time it could be even better…’ but my mind is back to Josh and Portia, and I’m climbing out of the car as James carries on saying something, but I’m not listening. I give him a distracted wave and let myself into the flat, heading straight for the phone.

‘Si, it’s me.’

‘And what are you doing home at this early hour? Unless of course’ – he drops his voice to a whisper, although God knows why because he’s definitely on his own – ‘unless the gorgeous James is in your bedroom, pulling off his boxers at this very moment.’

‘We saw them. Josh and Portia. You were right.’

There’s a gasp on the other end of the phone, then silence for what feels like a very long time.

‘What?’

‘I know. I feel sick. I can’t believe it.’

‘What do you mean, you saw them? Saw them where? What were they doing?’

‘We were sitting in this little French restaurant in Barnes – ’

‘Why did you schlep over to Barnes?’

‘I could ask the same of Josh and Portia, really, couldn’t I? Except I doubt the answer would be the same. I suspect that James chose it because it was lovely, rather than for its discretion. But anyway, there we were, when the door opened and Portia came in…’ I proceed to tell Si the rest of the story, and when I’ve finished I realize from the silence that he’s as shocked as I am.

‘Jesus, Si. Say something. You were the one who said she was after Josh from the beginning.’

‘I know, but I didn’t think she’d actually succeed. I mean, Josh loves Lucy . What the hell is he thinking of?’

‘I know. That’s exactly what I thought. But more to the point, Si, what the fuck are we going to do?’

‘Well, I know what we can’t do and that’s tell Lucy.’

‘But we can’t just sit back and watch the marriage of our best friends disintegrate. This is just horrific. I can’t believe how horrific this is.’

‘What about if we talk to Josh? Why don’t we talk to Josh?’

‘I just don’t think I can, Si. Maybe you could.’

‘Oh God, I don’t think so. I hate these confrontations. Look, we’re just going to have to sleep on it tonight. Maybe by the morning we’ll have a plan of action.’

But of course we don’t have a plan of action the next morning, and that’s despite me having hardly slept a wink, tossing and turning, too busy thinking about Josh and Portia to get a decent night’s sleep.

And do you know the worst thing about it? The worst thing about it, and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this because it feels like such a betrayal, but the worst thing about it is that, seeing them together last night, they looked perfect. They looked far more right together than Josh and Lucy have ever done, and, as much as it pains me to even think it, they look as though they belong together.

I will never ever tell anyone I think this. Not even Si, not even during our numerous phone calls the next day, starting at eight in the morning and continuing until mid-afternoon, when I tell him to quit or someone will start suspecting something. This whole fiasco has brought out something incredibly protective in me towards Lucy; I feel that I ought to be close to her, to somehow try to shield her, and I follow her around for the rest of the afternoon, making sure she’s okay, although the shop’s so busy we hardly have time to speak, let alone have a proper conversation.

‘Excuse me?’ I look up from sorting out the new stock to see a middle-aged woman standing in front of me, looking imperious. I give her a smile and she, not smiling back, asks: ‘Can you tell me where I’d find the new Dava Sobel?’

‘Sure. It should be on that table at the fr…’ I tail off as the woman starts walking away, no ‘thank you’, nothing, leaving me stranded in mid-sentence. Bill, who’s manning the till, catches my eye and rolls his eyes. ‘I hate it when that happens,’ he says, as I sigh.

‘Just tell me you’ll be the one to help her when she comes back to ask again.’ I grit my teeth, seeing that the woman has, as they always do, gone to the wrong table and is currently browsing through biographies. ‘I don’t think I’ve got enough patience to deal with that today.’

‘No problem,’ says Bill, stepping forward, as the woman marches back to the desk, saying in a loud, disgruntled voice: ‘It’s not there.’

‘I’ll find it for you,’ he says with a smile, leading her away, and I huddle back behind the desk, wishing I were in a better mood, because normally these things just don’t bother me, but today, obviously, isn’t a normal day.

‘Cath, darling!’ Lucy’s voice is breathless as she dashes back behind the bar, and for a second it almost makes me think that last night must have been a nightmare; it feels so unrealistic when Lucy’s voice is still exactly the same. ‘I can’t believe we haven’t had a chance to speak today. Give me a hand with these cups, and then you can tell me how last night went with the lovely James.’

‘Lovely.’ I try to make my voice sound as normal as possible. ‘I’ll tell you all about it later.’

‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she laughs. ‘Josh has another meeting tonight, so I’m on my own again. I haven’t got the energy to cook, but if you won’t tell anyone we can order pizza and you can tell me all about it. How does that sound?’

Scary, is how it sounds, because I know that the memory of Portia and Josh together will loom all evening, but the desire to see Lucy properly, out of the work environment, to be somehow reassured by her, is far more overwhelming than the fear. ‘Great.’ I say. ‘I’ll supply the wine.’

‘All right, my darling. We’ll go home together. Whoops, Bill’s calling you, must be about that order you put in yesterday.’ Either that or another bloody customer.

In the event I end up going home first, because it’s freezing and I didn’t turn the heating on when I left, and the one thing I can’t stand is going to bed in a freezing cold flat – it means I won’t sleep for hours. So I dash home to put the heating on for later, and tell Lucy I’ll be round in about half an hour.

It’s ridiculous to feel even more nervous about seeing Lucy, seeing her socially, as opposed to in the shop, than I did last night when I saw James, but it’s the truth. And I know I’ve spent the whole day in the shop with her, but it isn’t the same. I’m not altogether sure how we’ve managed this, but during the day, at work, you’d never know how close we are.

Despite that old myth that you should never get involved in business with friends, we seem to have found a way to make it work. It’s not as though we don’t talk during the day, in the shop, we just try to keep it as businesslike as possible, particularly given that Bill and Rachel are around most of the time as well. And already, in just over six weeks, we’ve developed a routine that seems to work perfectly for us.

We tend to get in first, Lucy and I, usually around nine, an hour before the shop opens, just to give ourselves a bit of breathing space. Lucy sticks the coffee on, while I check to see what was sold the day before, muttering to myself in frustration as I try to decipher my own handwriting, should I have been the one to have been manning the till at the time.

And then Lucy brings the coffee over as I get on the phone to the wholesalers to reorder the books that have been sold, and to place orders for customers who are looking for things we don’t usually stock.