Going Home (24 page)

Even Chin could not help but look flattered.

I coughed. ‘Excuse me,’ I said, leaning over, ‘Chin, tonight’s the night, remember?’

‘What’s tonight?’ Sophia said, without interest, looking at her tiny silver phone.

‘It’s her hen night,’ I said proudly. ‘Isn’t it, Chin?’

Sophia wasn’t really listening. ‘Oh, my good God, Jeremy’s texted me. Jeremy! He’s so naughty! Didn’t I tell you about him, Chin?’

Chin slammed on her sunglasses and got up. ‘You text him back. I’m just going to have a little word with Lizzy. See you in a min.’ She grabbed my arm, and strode off round the corner. Luigi was watching us and waved at me.

‘Hi,’ Chin said, when we got round the corner.

‘Hi there,’ I said.

‘Listen, Lizzy,’ she sounded brisk, ‘have you gone to much trouble over tonight? Be honest.’

‘Er…no, of course not,’ I said, worried that she’d got cold feet or fear of condom-veil presentation. ‘Why?’

Chin looked airily about her. ‘Well, I was just wondering if we could do it another night, that’s all.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Why?’

Chin sighed, then said, in her disarmingly sweet, clear voice, ‘Look, tell me if this isn’t on. I know we’re doing our pizza thing tonight—’

‘After the cocktails at Claridges,’ I pointed out weakly.

‘Yes, of course,’ Chin said impatiently. She tossed her hair, and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her beautiful black coat. ‘But I’ve been to Claridges about five times in the last few months. I’m a bit sick of it. And, well, it’d be nice to see you both but, let’s face it, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other over the next month or so. The thing is, Sophia rang me yesterday. Do you remember you saw her at that work party thing?’

‘Yes, I do,’ I said.

Chin looked round her again, then practically hissed, ‘Give me that Amaretti. I’m starving. She eats bloody nothing.’

I handed her a biscuit from my bag and she wolfed it. ‘Lovely. God, that’s good.’

I scrunched up my eyes to see if I was in a dream.

Chin sailed on, oblivious to my (a) confusion (b) rising anger. ‘Anyway, it was great to talk to her. She really enjoyed seeing you, and she’d heard about Keeper House from her mum – she was sweet about it. She said she’d thought she should give me a call for old times’ sake and that we should meet up. Anyway, to cut a long story short, we arranged to spend today together. So, yes, we’re going shopping this afternoon and out for drinks tonight. To the Sanderson. So, unless you had something really special planned, I thought it’d be OK to call a raincheck for tonight.’

I looked at her in amazement as she crumpled the biscuit
paper and threw it neatly into a bin a few feet away. Several things about this speech irritated me intensely. One, Chin was the kind of person I’d always suspected might ditch someone at the last minute for a better offer, but I’d never dreamed she’d do it tonight. Two, she was supposed to hate Sophia Gunning, but obviously Sophia Gunning came higher in the social pecking order than Jess and I did, and if she was seeking Chin’s forgiveness (or, more likely, was at a loose end on her last night in London, the friendless witch), Chin would be willing to dole it out. Three, why the name-checking of the bar at the Sanderson? Was this a covert message that she liked it much better there and we ought to have taken her there too? Finally, the whole if-you-haven’t-planned-anything-special tack was a monstrously rude way of saying, ‘If you’d planned a better evening, I wouldn’t be dropping you for someone else.’

I was suddenly the kind of furious where you don’t really want to get into a ding-dong or unforgivable things will be said. So I just said, in a voice that could have frozen vodka, ‘That’s a real shame, Chin. Jess and I were looking forward to tonight. And, no, we hadn’t planned anything. Well, nothing we can’t change anyway.’ I wasn’t going to tell her I’d bought those tickets now. If she didn’t want to come out with us – fine.

Chin stamped her feet impatiently. ‘So you don’t mind, then. Sorry about this. We’ll do it some other time, OK?’

I pushed my bag on to my shoulder and made to leave. ‘I do mind, actually, but if you’d rather go out with Sophia I’m sure Jess and I would be horrified to think we were holding you back.’ I sounded like a pert housemaid. ‘Anyway, I’d better go. I’m going to be late getting back. I’ve got a few things to sort out
now.
’

Chin was totally oblivious to this, damn her eyes. ‘Thanks, love. I’ll tell her you said ‘bye. You never know,
she’s probably quite a useful person to know at Monumental, isn’t she? I’ll put in a good word for you – maybe she can get you a job in New York or LA or something!’

How little you know or even care, I thought. ‘Whatever,’ I said, not wanting to talk to her any more. ‘Have a good day.’ I said mentally adding her to the ever-growing list of my relatives without whom I’d be better off.

Chin reapplied her lip gloss, then said, ‘Thanks, Lizzy. Sorry about this – and thanks a lot! ‘Bye.’ She hugged me. ‘I’ll see you soon, OK? Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s the only day she can do before she goes back to LA.’ Then she walked off. I watched her go, unable to believe quite how rude and ungrateful she was. And she had no idea! Bloody cow. I breathed deeply. Palm trees, the ocean, waffles. What a witch. Well, I’d see about that.

I stomped back to work, hurled myself into my office, slammed the door and sank into my chair, still in my coat. Then I had a brainwave. I rang up the
Les Misérables
box office and cancelled our tickets, rang Jess and told her to come to my office instead. Then I picked up the phone.

‘Tom, it’s me again. You said two people cancelled on the butch men’s stag do earlier this week. Are those tickets still spare? And, if so, have you got room for two more people tonight?’ I explained about Chin’s awful behaviour.

‘Of course,’ said Tom’s voice, reassuring and kind. ‘What a cow Chin is. Hurrah, this is going to be great! Gibbo’ll be so pleased!’

‘Really?’ I said. ‘I can’t imagine we’re his top choice of stag-night companions.’

‘Well, we’ve regrouped and I’ve changed the title of the evening. It’s not Gibbo’s stag night any more. It’s Gibbo’s Friends and soon-to-be-relatives Wish Him
Bon Voyage.
It’s now just an excuse for us to have a nice evening out and then get mashed. Good, no?’

‘Great,’ I said.

‘Right. Better go,’ said Tom. ‘See you at the Savoy at six thirty. Don’t be late. Hey, I’m really glad you’re coming. Bloody Chin! I’ll have something to say to her next time I see her. She’s getting worse and worse, don’t you think?’

‘She is,’ I agreed. My heart swelled with love for Tom, then shrank again when he said, ‘And don’t wear those hideous Topshop lemon stilettos.’

A few hours later, Jess and I hurried through the chrome art-deco revolving doors at the Savoy and into the plushly retro lobby, trying to look as if such a place was run-of-the-mill to us. We ran up the stairs to the American Bar, where our eyes fell upon a knot of boys, sitting self-consciously in black tie and trying to make polite conversation. They looked like waiters on a busman’s stag night. Miles saw us first, and his eyes lit with relief, then Tom and Gibbo stood up to greet us. Gibbo resembled an anorexic penguin in evening dress. It wasn’t a look I’d have picked for him. His jacket appeared to be sliding off him and I made a mental note to warn Chin, if I ever got over my fury, never to let him wear it again.

‘Well, this is the best man, Bozzer,’ said Tom, gesturing to a short, rubbery man with a deep tan and small blue gimlet eyes. ‘He flew in from Sydney yesterday. And this is Frank.’

‘Hello, Lizzy,’ said Frank. He had been Gibbo’s boss at a fruit and veg stall where he’d worked briefly last summer. He was tall and thin with wispy white hair and the air of an absent-minded ghost. I couldn’t imagine him yelling ‘Five punnets for a pahnd!’ but there you go.

We shook hands with the rest of the crew, an assortment of people Gibbo had worked with, or who had saved his
life in various improbable situations, and even one bloke whom Gibbo had met on a train last year, who’d become a friend because he’d offered Gibbo a banana.

‘Let me get you girls some drinks,’ said Miles. I watched his retreating back, and thought that how much more he looked the part in black tie. It seemed to belong to him in the way it never quite does with many men.

‘How do you know Gibbo?’ I asked Ian, presuming that the usual rules of hen-night small-talk applied at the beginning of a stag night, too.

‘I met him a couple of years ago, near Cairns,’ said Ian.

‘Nice,’ I said. ‘It’s supposed to be beautiful there, but I’ve never been.’

‘Oh, it is. Gorgeous part of the world.’

‘So how did you actually meet?’ I said.

Ian looked bashful. ‘I saved his life, actually.’

‘Blimey,’ I said.

Gibbo overheard us, and slapped Ian on the back. ‘He sure did!’ he exclaimed. ‘I was hanging out at a café by the beach, drinking a beer. Then suddenly I turn dark purple and go rigid. They think I’m dead, right? And Ian – he’s a doctor, thank God – he just happened to be there. Otherwise I’d have been a goner. He bent down, reached into my throat and – ‘ he leaned forward, and said in sepulchre-like tones – ‘and he pulled out a bit of rope that big – I was choking to death. Had a knot in it. This size.’ He held his hands six inches apart.

Ian nodded modestly.

I was confused. ‘But, Gibbo, why didn’t you notice you’d swallowed it?’

‘Who knows?’ said Gibbo with interest. ‘Who knows. Ah, mate, great to have you here!’ he said, and slapped Ian on the back again.

Miles caught my eye as he shifted back on to the bench
and handed Jess and me a martini each. ‘Classic,’ he murmured. ‘Vintage Walter situation.’

‘Shut up,’ I said, but I couldn’t help smiling.

‘How are you?’ said Miles. ‘Still on for tomorrow?’

‘Sure am,’ I said. ‘Where were you thinking of going?’

‘Well, it’s going to be pretty nice weather, apparently, so I thought Richmond Park. I’ve got a big rug and I can pick up some food on the way. We can go for a bit of a stroll afterwards. How does that sound?’

I looked round the crowded bar, filling up with ever more bejewelled, skinny men and women, then at Gibbo, Bozzer and Tom, who were chatting together, and Jess, talking to Ian and his mate Phil. ‘That sounds great,’ I said. ‘Here’s to tomorrow.’

‘Definitely,’ said Miles.

So we all sat there, an odd collection of people if ever there was one, as the old Italian waiters circled and polite bubbles of early-evening conversation drifted around us.

‘Well, what a week,’ Tom said, stretching out his feet. ‘How are we all, after last weekend’s revelations?’

‘I still can’t believe it,’ said Jess, and sipped her martini gloomily.

‘Me either,’ said Tom. ‘I’ve been calling Mike all week, but I haven’t heard a thing from him. Bastard.’

‘What’s it going to be like at the wedding?’ Jess said. ‘He’ll still come, won’t he?’

‘I’m sure he will,’ I said. ‘You know our family. We’ll all smile and pretend everything’s fine. And—’

‘What?’ Tom said.

‘Well, he should be there, shouldn’t he?’

‘I don’t see why,’ said Tom coldly.

‘He should see what he’s done,’ I said.

‘I suppose,’ Tom agreed. ‘But, still, it doesn’t make you look forward to it, particularly.’

‘Why?’ said Jess.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘we’re moving out four days later. The bloody packing cases’ll be everywhere, and Mike, and we’ll be pretending everything’s OK. And – and—’

‘And David, too,’ said Jess. ‘He’ll be there.’

‘Perhaps he won’t,’ I said hopefully.

‘He
is
coming,’ said Miles. ‘He’s flying in the day before. He’s going to see Dad in Spain afterwards. He and Chin are close, aren’t they? Sorry.’

‘Of course,’ Tom said. ‘I’d forgotten.’

‘Oh, great,’ I said, although I knew this was true. Like most of my family, Chin thought David was the bee’s knees. They liked long walks, too. Ugh, some people.

‘Well, you can have a reckoning with him,’ Tom said consolingly. ‘Get really drunk and tell him what a wanker he is.’

‘Ye-es,’ I said. ‘But I’d rather do it with a devastatingly handsome new boyfriend on my arm. I tried to bribe Jaden to come but he’s back in LA. And anyway,’ I said, remembering the conversation I’d had with him earlier in the week, ‘he was really annoying about it. He said I was being negative about the past and trapping myself in a holding booth.’ I made a pshaw noise. ‘God, he’s so hilarious sometimes.’

‘I think he’s right,’ Tom said.

‘Shut up!’ I said. ‘What does it even
mean
?’

‘It means you’re stuck in a rut and you won’t try new things. You just keep going back to some point in your past and blaming it for everything,’ Tom said helpfully.

‘Well, it’s not bloody true,’ I said crossly. ‘You don’t know the first thing about it.’

‘Oh, yes? Give me an example of something new you’re doing, then,’ said Tom.

‘Well, I’m moving to LA in two months’ time,’ I said conversationally.

Jess started.

‘What did you say?’ Miles said, at my elbow.

‘I said,’ I took a deep breath, ‘I’m moving to LA. I’ve got a job out there. For a year. I just want to – to try something new. See what’s out there.’

Tom floored me. ‘That’s a brilliant idea. Lucky you.’ He kissed me. ‘I’m going to miss you so much. Can I come and stay? God, I’m proud of you.’

Miles raised his glass to me.

‘So am I,’ Jess said. ‘But, oh, Lizzy, I’m going to miss you. Can I come and stay too? Can you rent a house by the beach?’

‘I’m going to live with Jaden for a bit,’ I said. ‘His apartment is by the beach. It’ll be for a couple of months till I find somewhere. So I’ve got one friend there, which makes life easier.’

‘Cool!’ said Jess.

‘It’ll be great,’ said Tom. ‘God, this is weird. You’re going to LA!’

‘I know!’ I said. ‘I’m so glad you’re pleased. I haven’t told Mum and Dad yet – I don’t know what they’ll think.’

‘They’ll think it’s a great idea,’ Miles said, ‘and they’ll be so proud of you, too.’

I was shaking a bit: I hadn’t realized it would be such a big deal to tell the others, and I was taken aback by how quickly they had embraced it. Perhaps they’d been longing to get shot of me, I thought gloomily.