Jane Green - Bookends

But once upon a time what Si has just said would have been true, and perhaps it still is true. Si can see that his point has struck, and that I am thinking about it, so he carries on, telling me that Josh trusts me, and that we owe it to Lucy, and then finally that it’s all my fault that Portia’s back anyway, so I should take responsibility for getting rid of her again.

‘Si! That’s not bloody fair. You can’t pin this one on me. There was no way I could have known what would happen with Josh, and anyway you used to talk about her all the time as well.’

‘I know, I know. I’m sorry and I didn’t mean that, it’s just that I feel so bloody guilty. It is kind of our fault. I mean, if you and I hadn’t dialled her number, this wouldn’t have happened.’

‘You know what? I don’t believe that. Ultimately this is Josh’s decision, and neither of us is to blame. We shouldn’t get involved at all, but I love Josh and Lucy too much to ignore this, so I’ll do the only thing I can.’

‘Which is?’

‘Tell Josh that we know, and remind him of what he’d be losing if he and Lucy broke up.’ But the very thought makes me feel sick to my stomach.

‘And what if he says that Portia’s the love of his life and she’s the only thing he cares about?’

‘First of all, Si, stop being so bloody negative, and second, I just don’t believe Josh would do that, I just can’t believe that.’

Lucy comes back to the table with a bottle of champagne that’s part of our secret stash, well hidden in the stock room.

‘Look at you two with your heads together, whispering furtively. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were planning a secret rendezvous.’

‘You might say that,’ Si sniffs, standing up and getting some glasses out, ‘but I couldn’t possibly comment,’ and with that he pops the cork and the three of us start to drink.

Thank God my life seems to have found its equilibrium again. This whole Josh and Lucy thing has been so upsetting, that even when I tried to get on with things and forget about it, I still felt unsettled all the time, as if something terrible were about to happen, something I couldn’t control, couldn’t get away from.

I suppose it could just have been the fact that Portia had come back at all. Irrespective of her affair with Josh, I suppose it is bound to be unsettling when somebody new enters your world, changes the dynamic, disturbs the balance.

She’s called me a few times, left messages, and I’ve managed to avoid the calls, telling Bill and Rachel to say I’m out (Lucy being the only one who never picks up the phone, as she’s always run off her feet in the café) and screening my calls at home. Si, who’s the only person who knows I’m avoiding her, thinks this is crazy, but it’s so much easier to withdraw from the friendship than it would be to confront her.

And I know it’s wimpy. I feel sometimes that I owe it to Lucy, that I should just pitch up on Portia’s doorstep, screaming blue murder, but I was always in awe of Portia, all those years ago, and even though I’m an adult now and my life has moved on, when I’m around Portia I regress to those years, and I suppose if I’m really honest I’d have to say I’m ever so slightly frightened of her.

Which is why I don’t say anything. Plus it isn’t any of my business, although of course it is, because she is hurting one of the people I love most in the world, but, as Si keeps pointing out to me, she isn’t the only bad guy in this scenario. I know it takes two to tango and all that, yet I can’t help but feel that however clever and sharp Josh may be, he’s also weak. I’ve always known that, and although I didn’t think he’d be so weak as to give in to temptation quite this quickly, clearly I was wrong. But I still can’t blame him as much as I blame Portia for tempting him in the first place.

I want to, but I can’t.

Maybe it’s my anger that’s stopping me from confronting Portia. Maybe I’m so frightened of what I’ll say to her, that it’s easier to keep it contained, and to hope and pray that everything gets back to normal.

And the funny thing is that for the last week or so, Lucy seems much happier, and please let it not be premature of me to wish, to pray, that things might be cooling down.

I couldn’t go as far as to say it’s over with Portia and Josh, because he still arrives home late in the evening, claiming meetings or a heavy work schedule, which, as everyone knows, is always the classic excuse. And I still notice that Josh, who has always openly and lovingly declared his adoration for Lucy, now seems distracted much of the time, but Lucy has said that things have improved, and that, for now, seems to be enough.

She made me laugh this morning, telling me about Ingrid, who seems to be acting more and more strangely. Lucy told me how she got home last night and listened to the answer phone, the good news being that there was no message from Josh saying he had a meeting that night. And the bad news being that there was no message from Josh saying he’d be home for supper.

She poured herself a whisky, sat down at the kitchen table and kicked off her shoes, only for her mouth to drop open as Ingrid walked nonchalantly in and picked up her keys from off the kitchen table.

She had, Lucy giggled, outdone even herself. She was wearing a red PVC catsuit, which showed off her extraordinary figure extraordinarily, and her hair was scraped off her face in a slick ponytail.

‘Off to an S & M club?’ Lucy inquired politely, which is completely out of character, but, as Lucy admitted, she was too damned tired to keep up the good old British reserve.

‘No,’ Ingrid said, all sweet smiles that didn’t, somehow, seem to go with her outfit. ‘I have a hot date.’ She then added, ‘If I am not back tonight, you will not worry?’

‘Well, uh, I suppose not, not if you tell me you won’t be. Should I lock the front door, then?’

‘I think so,’ Ingrid said, waving goodbye and practically floating out of the room, as Lucy blinked a few times just to check she wasn’t dreaming.

‘God,’ I laughed, listening to the story. ‘She sounds like Denise Van Outen on Viagra. I hope he’s worth it.’

‘Oh shut up.’ Lucy and I both giggled. ‘You’re just jealous. I bet you wish you looked that good in a red PVC catsuit. I know I certainly do.’ And then her voice suddenly became serious and she looked down at the table before looking at me. ‘I know this sounds ridiculous,’ she said slowly, ‘because I really don’t think that Josh would have an affair, but you don’t think…?’ She tailed off as I mentally willed my heart to slow down.

‘I mean, it’s just that Ingrid seems far happier suddenly, and she obviously is seeing someone, and you don’t think that… well, you don’t think Josh and Ingrid?’

‘God, no!’ I practically shouted. ‘Not in a million years!’

Lucy looked relieved. ‘Oh, okay, then, if you’re sure. Anyway, as it happens Josh was an absolute sweetie last night. He turned up with a huge bunch of flowers and whisked me off to Julie’s for dinner.’

And apparently it was the first normal evening they’d had in ages. Josh had arranged for Laura to come and babysit, and once they were in the restaurant they sat and actually talked. Not about the bookshop, not about Max, not about Josh’s work, but just talked.

They talked about themselves, reminisced about the first time they’d been to Julie’s, and ended up actually laughing. It was, Lucy said, a beam breaking out on her face, wonderful. And wonderful because, it was so normal . Not romantic, not earth-shattering, it didn’t lead to passionate sex or anything like that, but she felt married again. And happy. And safe.