Jane Green - Bookends

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Si says, when I inform him of our plan.

‘What? You don’t think it’s a good idea?’ I’m staggered at his disapproval.

‘Sweets, I think it’s a wonderful idea. I think that, at the very least, it will be fun for Lucy and that’s a bit of an accomplishment right now.’

‘So don’t even think about what?’

‘Ann Summers. I wouldn’t let you near the place. If we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right, and the only place to go is Agent Provocateur.’

‘Oooh,’ I squeal, suddenly feeling like a little girl. ‘Is that the place that sells those fluffy marabou mules? The slippers that no good housewife should be without?’

‘Those plus a million other gorgeously sexy bits and pieces.’

‘Let’s go,’ I say greedily. ‘Today? Tomorrow? I want those slippers and I want them now.’

‘Well, well… Who would have thought our Cath was a Brigitte Bardot in the making.’

‘Not bloody likely,’ I laugh. ‘I’ve just dreamt of those slippers ever since I was about five years old. Can we go soon? Pleeeeeeeeeease? Pleeeeeeeease?’

‘Only if you promise to buy me a leopard-skin thong.’

‘It’s a done deal.’

Si lets out a long sigh. ‘On a more serious note, Cath, do you actually think this might work?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m not letting this marriage collapse without a fight.’

‘I know,’ he says softly. ‘I feel the same way. Anyway, back to the real world, have you phoned the gorgeous James yet to thank him and apologize for being so spacey at the end of the evening?’

‘Oh God,’ I groan. ‘I feel so awful about that, shit… call waiting, can you hang on?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll talk to you later,’ and he blows me a kiss and is gone. I press the appropriate buttons and say hello.

‘Cath?’

Well, speak of the devil. It’s James. ‘I was worried about you, and I just wanted to phone to see if you were okay. Are you feeling better?’

‘James, you’re making me feel so guilty. All week I’ve meant to call you and thank you for a lovely evening, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance.’

‘It can’t have been that lovely,’ James says, ‘not at the end, anyway.’

‘Well, a bit traumatic, but the beginning was perfect, and had we not seen, well, you know. Had that not happened, the whole evening would have been perfect.’

‘That’s sweet of you to say so,’ James says, and then we both sit there for a while as I wonder whether he’s going to ask me out again, and actually hoping that he will, because I want to give this another chance, I want us to have an evening that really is perfect, from beginning to end.

But Cath the inexperienced idiot can’t say that of course, so I just sit there in silence waiting, praying, for him to ask, and after a while he just says that he’s glad I’m okay and that I should take care, and I put the phone down, suddenly feeling a deep emptiness.

Which is ridiculous, really. I mean, I hardly know him. It was one evening. There’s nothing physical, no physical attraction, but I have to say I was looking forward to getting to know him better.

And even I’m amazed at how quickly I’ve managed to blow it this time. Oh well, there’s only one thing for it. Eight slices of bread and half a packet of chocolate Hobnobs.

‘Si really isn’t that keen on Portia, is he?’ A few days later it’s a slow afternoon in Bookends, and Lucy’s helping me tidy up the stock room. She tries to look nonchalant, but it doesn’t work, and I know that this isn’t the end of the question, that Si’s reaction every time Portia’s name is mentioned has only served to sow the seeds of doubt in Lucy’s head.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, come on, Cath! There’s something going on, isn’t there?’

All the colour drains out of my face, and, I swear, my heart actually misses a beat.

‘What do you mean?’ I speak slowly, trying to keep my voice calm and steady, and managing somehow, even though the voice sounds nothing like my own.

‘For starters, you look like a ghost every time Portia’s name is mentioned, and Si looks as if he’s about to murder someone, probably Portia. What on earth is going on with her?’

Oh God, what do I do? Do I tell her? Should I confess? This is, after all, one of my closest friends in the world, and would I not be a better friend by telling her of Josh’s betrayal?

What if the roles were reversed? Would I want to know? If I were with, say, James, and he was being unfaithful, and Si or Lucy found out about it, wouldn’t I be more furious if I discovered that they knew and hadn’t told me?

But then they say it’s always the messenger who gets shot, and maybe it isn’t any of my business. or maybe I should just pray that it is, after all, a phase, and just cross my fingers and hope that it’s all over soon.

I take a deep breath and look into Lucy’s eyes, and I know immediately that I will not be the one to tell her, to hurt her in this way.

‘What’s going on with Portia?’ I repeat, stalling for time.

‘Yes, have the three of you had some kind of falling out or something?’

My relief is palpable.

‘It’s ridiculous that you and Si were so excited about seeing her again after all this time, and suddenly she’s become persona non grata , and I can’t understand why.’

I shrug. ‘You know,’ I say, after a while, ‘it isn’t anything tangible. I think that both Si and I have realized that ten years is a long time, and people change enormously in ten years, and I just don’t think we have that much in common with her any more.’

Lucy’s about to say something else when the door creaks open and Si staggers in, clutching his head and groaning in mock-agony.

‘Fine, thank you,’ I laugh. ‘Nice to see you too.’

‘Sssh,’ he says. ‘Hangover.’

‘Let me guess… Turnmills again ?’

He nods.

‘So you’ve been out clubbing all night and you probably got home at, what, six this morning?’

Si nods.

‘Which would explain why,’ I look at my watch, ‘at five minutes to four in the afternoon you’re still feeling like shit. I hope it was worth it.’

Si looks up as a grin spreads all over his face.

‘Uh oh,’ Lucy laughs. ‘I hope he was worth it.’

‘Well, you know what they say,’ Si sounds, and looks, brighter than he has done in ages. ‘The best way of getting over someone is to find someone new.’

‘No! Already?’

‘Well, not permanently,’ Si says. ‘Definitely not relationship material, but gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, and let’s just say a good time was had by all. Meanwhile back at the ranch, how did the new sexy Lucy go down on Friday night?’

Lucy sighs. ‘Going down was the last thing on my mind that night.’

‘Now Lucy,’ Si admonishes her, ‘didn’t I tell you it should have been the first.’

‘I tried. Really, I did, but he didn’t want to know…’

‘Oh, Lucy,’ I stroke her arm, and, fuelled by cappuccinos and carrot cake, the full story comes out.

Josh phoned early Friday afternoon and said he had a meeting but wouldn’t be back later than eight thirty, so Lucy ran up the road to the beauty salon and had her legs waxed, even though they didn’t really need it, just to be on the safe side. Then up to Waitrose, where she strode round the aisles smiling to herself, because here she was, playing the archetypal fifties housewife, shopping mid-afternoon for food for her husband’s dinner, when tucked inside her cupboard at home were bags of gorgeously sexy lacy underwear with which to tempt him later that night.