Penny Vincenzi - The Best Of Times

“Of course you’re not a doctor. You take photographs at conferences. Or rather, your boss does. So you were there at the conference in Birmingham. You came up by train from Bristol that morning.”

“Jonathan, they can check that.”

“Why the fuck should they want to check it? There’s no reason for them not to believe us; it’s got nothing to do with the accident. All they’ll want to know is what we saw, and not why we were there together. It’s irrelevant. I was giving you a lift to London, or maybe not London, possibly Reading, what do you think?”

“Whatever,” said Abi. She felt close to tears, without being sure why.

“OK, Reading then. Don’t forget.”

“What was I going to Reading for?”

“To visit friends. For the weekend.”

“Jonathan, this is getting so complicated. You don’t think it might be better to tell the truth?”

“Abi, no. For Christ’s sake. Do you want to-” He stopped.

“Do I want to what, Jonathan? Oh, I get it. This is about your marriage, isn’t it? About being caught with your pants down-literally.”

“I… To a degree, yes. Of course. I don’t want Laura hurt-”

“Maybe you should have thought of that earlier.”

“Oh, Christ.” She could almost hear him struggling to keep calm. “Abi, please-look, we’re far more likely to get into trouble over this if there is any indication that we were having an affair.”

“I don’t see why we should get into trouble at all. We weren’t doing anything wrong. Oh-except that you were on the phone, of course.” She couldn’t resist that.

“Yes, well, hopefully that won’t come to light.” His voice was very cold. “I would say there’s no need to actually mention it. Unless they ask, of course. Is that… I mean, would you agree with me?”

“Why should I lie to the police on your behalf?”

“I’m not asking you to lie, simply not to mention it.”

She didn’t answer. She could almost hear him sweating. It was very, very pleasant.

“Abi?” he said. “Can I have your agreement to that?”

“Well… let’s see what happens, shall we?”

“No, Abi, I need to know that you agree.”

“I don’t see why. If they ask, they ask. Look, you were in no way responsible for that crash, Jonathan. The lorry went into a skid; it couldn’t stop, went through the barrier… We just happened to be there. We didn’t hit anything. Or cause anyone to hit anything. And then you did your Dr. Wonderful act. What’s for them to be suspicious about?”

“Nothing. Of course. It’s just that… well, it is a bit of a blur, and I can’t help feeling anxious about it. I’m not sure why. I’m glad you don’t.”

“No,” she said, aware that she was not being strictly truthful, “I don’t. And I really, really don’t like the idea of lying to the police.”

There was a very long silence; then he said, “I need you to do this, Abi.”

“So you said. I, on the other hand, don’t need to do it. Funny, that.”

Another shorter silence. She’d got him now, got him shitting himself.

Then: “Abi, I think you do need to do it. Actually.”

“Oh, why?”

“Because I don’t think you’d want the police to know about your little habit, do you?”

She felt the floor literally heave under her. He couldn’t have said that; he couldn’t. She had a friend who’d got caught with drugs in her flat; she’d got a suspended sentence and a big fine. She’d lose her job, she might even go to prison…

“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” she said, amazed that her voice sounded so steady, “or thinking it. Anyway, I seem to remember you enjoying the odd snort.”

“You might have trouble proving that. You provided it. Rather visibly, I seem to remember, on one or two occasions. And who do you think they’d believe, you or me?”

She threw her head back, stared at the ceiling, tears stinging her eyes, as much from shock as fear. This was a man who’d told her he cared about her, who’d sought her out, told her she was one of the best things in his life…

“Don’t worry, Abi. Of course I won’t say anything to the police.

Or to your boss. As long as you do what I ask. All right? Just stick to the story; it won’t be difficult. Clever girl like you.”

“Screw you, Jonathan Gilliatt. Screw you to hell!”

“So… does that mean I have your agreement?”

Even if the police didn’t believe him, they would check her out, her friends, work, Sylvie, everyone.

“Yes, you do,” she said. “Fuck you.”

“Right. Good. Well, that’s that. I think. The less we communicate the better. at the moment. Don’t ring me.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Good. And don’t forget: keep it simple.”

She cut him off.

Bastard. Absolute bastard. How could she have been taken in by him?

But… God. If he did… Not that she kept any, ever. She simply bought it when she wanted it. Which wasn’t very often. Even so…

Abi suddenly felt very sick; she made the bathroom only just in time. Afterwards she stood in the shower for what felt like hours, then came out and lay down on the bed.

Later, trying to calm her whirling, heaving fear, she thought that there was no way she was going to tell Jonathan that William had called and spoken to Laura. Let him dig his own grave on that one. Funny that Laura hadn’t mentioned it yet. She was obviously cooler than Abi had realised. Waiting for Jonathan to trip himself up. Clever, really. Very clever. Perhaps she had misjudged her.

“Emma. There’s something really important I want to say…”

“Yes, Luke?”

“The thing is, I haven’t said it before, because I wasn’t sure. I’ve never said it to anyone, matter of fact…”

She put her fork down. This was… well, very… well…

“I… I love you, babe. I really do.”

“Oh, Luke…” She felt tears in her eyes: joyful, wonderful tears.

“Hey,” he said, “hey, the idea was to make you happy.”

“Sorry. I am. Terribly.” She hoped her mascara wasn’t running.

“Thing is, it’s taken me a while to realise, but I was talking to Mum the other night, and…”

He was worryingly devoted to his mum; any girlfriend was in danger of taking second place.

“Yes?”

“And she said it was obvious to her-she’d never heard me talk like that before-and she said I should tell you…”

Good old mum; if she’d walked in then, Emma would have hugged her. She must stop thinking harsh things about her.

“Oh, Luke…”

“Yeah. So… well, that’s about it, really.”

She was silent, realised he was looking slightly embarrassed, less his usual confident self.

“That’s wonderful,” she said, “absolutely wonderful.”

“Good. Now, there is something else…” He raised his fingers, signalled to the waiter.

“Could you bring that package over, please? The one I asked you to keep at the desk?”

“Certainly, sir.”

She sat in an agony of suspense. Package? What would be in a package? A… a… No, Emma, not that. Surely not that. Not yet, not-

The waiter put the package down in front of Luke; it was blue, that glorious, soft turquoise blue, with that wonderful, wonderful white ribbon-Tiffany! A package from Tiffany. What came from Tiffany? Well, lots of things, but-

Luke handed it to her. “Go on,” he said. “Open it.”

Her hands shaking, she untied the bow; inside the bag was a box. A quite small box. With another white ribbon.

She undid the second bow, took the lid off the box, pulled out the small blue pouch. What was it; what could it be, if not-

“Oh, Luke, that’s so lovely! Wonderful. Oh, Luke. Oh, my God!”