It Had to Be You (28 page)

Poppet sat upright. ‘You went to a singles night with Elliot Anderson? How did
that
happen?’

Lizzy told them about the mission to find her a man. Afterwards Nic screwed her nose up.

‘Why would Ginger Bollocks care what happens in your love life?’

‘Maybe he’s trying to live vicariously through Lizzy,’ Poppet said.

Nic gave a not entirely pleasant snort. ‘So did you pull this Greg or what?’

‘No.’ Lizzy hesitated. ‘I ended up going out with Elliot for dinner. I just felt a bit sorry for him, you know. The poor bloke’s clearly still gutted. I couldn’t let him just walk off …’

‘Yes you could.’

Lizzy stared at Nic. ‘I suppose I
could
have, but I didn’t think it was a very nice thing to do.’ She looked pointedly at Poppet. ‘I didn’t really fancy Greg anyway. So it was a lucky escape.’

‘Oh, come on, Lizzy! Is this the same Greg you went on about for a
month
after you met, who you were practically crying about because he took five days to accept your friend request on Facebook?’

‘Nic,’ Poppet said uncomfortably.

‘What’s your point?’ Lizzy asked defensively.

‘My point
is
that you’ve fallen for Elliot.’

‘No I haven’t!’

‘Oh my God! He’s all you talk about when we meet up these days. How annoying Elliot is, how funny Elliot is, how he did this, how he said that. We’ve both noticed it, haven’t we, Poppet?’

Poppet stared awkwardly into her wine glass.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Lizzy said.

‘Er, hello, newsflash? He’s using you, Lizzy! He’s using you as a shoulder to cry on, until he finds someone new. You’re either in major denial, or you’re being fucking naïve.’

Lizzy felt a surge of white-hot anger. ‘Fuck you, Nic.’

The best friends glared at each other.

‘What is it with you?’ Lizzy continued. ‘Why do you have to drag everything down to some weird, dark level?’

‘I’m not bringing anything down, sweetheart, I’m giving you a few home truths. If you don’t like them, it’s not my problem.’

‘Girls,’ Poppet said pleadingly.

She was totally ignored. ‘You know sometimes,’ Lizzy told Nic, ‘you can be a real bitch.’

‘No, it’s called being a realist.’ She pointed a finger at Lizzy. ‘You should take your head out of the fucking clouds and try it some day!’

‘If that’s what being a realist is, I’ll take my head in the clouds any day!’

Nic’s eyes had gone completely black. For a second Lizzy seriously wondered if she was going to lean across the table and punch her.

‘Screw this. I haven’t got much of an appetite anyway. This should cover it, Poppet.’

She threw down a couple of twenties and walked out. The other two were left open-mouthed.

‘What just
happened
?’ Lizzy asked. She felt physically sick.

‘I don’t know!’ Poppet shook her head. ‘She’s been on the edge for weeks.’

‘
Have
you been talking about me?’

Poppet’s cheeks went pink. ‘We were just looking out for you. It seems a bit weird, your relationship, I mean.’ She gave a tentative smile. ‘You said the same stuff when you warned me about Pencil Dick Pete.’

‘It’s nothing like that,’ Lizzy said stiffly. ‘I told you, Elliot and I are just friends.’

Lizzy had spent the rest of the night stewing, but by the morning she’d calmed down. A part of her, the part she didn’t want to own up to, knew the reason she’d reacted in the way she had was because Nic’s words had struck a raw nerve. What
was
going on between her and Elliot? Lizzy didn’t want to think about it, but was he just using her as an emotional stopgap like Pencil Dick Pete? And even if he was, why did she care?

She had called Nic up first thing and left a conciliatory voicemail. Her best friend’s temper was like someone striking a match: it flared up and died down almost immediately. Whatever beef Nic had with someone, she always got over it.

But by Monday, when Nic still hadn’t returned any of her calls or texts, Lizzy started to get worried. Poppet hadn’t heard much either, other than a text from Nic saying she had a busy week and was staying in all weekend to get some rest. This was from the woman who had once come third in an Ironman competition she’d hardly trained for after working a sixty-hour week.

Do you think she’s still constipated?
Poppet emailed Lizzy.
I know how angry I get when I haven’t been for a couple of days.

To make matters worse, Lizzy was now facing radio silence from Elliot. They normally emailed at the start of the week about meeting up, and Lizzy had sent him a couple of messages on the Tuesday morning, but nothing had come back. Before, she would have just assumed he was busy and wouldn’t have given it much thought, but Nic’s words had struck a raw nerve. The longer time went by and there was still no reply, the more Lizzy started to get wound up. So he had time to tweet every five minutes about the bloody Eurozone, but he didn’t have ten seconds to reply to her email? It was just rude!

November was always busy in the Christmas run-up. Work was more hectic than normal, which at least helped keep Lizzy’s mind off things. On the Wednesday morning she was knee-deep in writing a press release when Antonia came over.

‘Can you tell me what the fuck is going on?’ She handed Lizzy a sheet of paper.

Lizzy went cold as she saw the printed bank statement.

‘Do you know why the hell Karen Jones has only been paying half her monthly retainer since September?’

‘I’ve got no idea,’ Lizzy said. ‘It’s probably just a mess-up with her bank. I’ll get right on to it.’

She spent the next ten minutes in the loo panicking. When she came out she went straight over to Antonia.

‘I’ve called Karen, it
was
a mess-up with the bank. She’s promised to have it sorted out in the next twenty-four hours.’

‘Good. The last thing we need is clients trying to shaft us, especially the ones who aren’t making us any money.’

‘Have you been looking through the accounts recently then?’ Lizzy asked casually.

There was a smudge of hummus on Antonia’s chin from the crispbread she’d been snacking on. ‘Well I
am
the owner of the company,’ she said ultra-sarcastically.

‘I’m happy to still keep an eye on them,’ Lizzy said. ‘It’s one less thing for you to worry about.’

Antonia’s bulbous blue eyes were like searchlights into her soul. Lizzy started to sweat profusely. ‘Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, OK?’ Antonia turned back to her crispbread.

Lizzy went back to her desk and tried to calm her jangled nerves.
You’d better start praying for a miracle from the PR gods.
Otherwise they were up shit creek without a paddle in sight.

The next day she got an email from Elliot’s mum. Cassandra was her normal chatty self, telling Lizzy about a painting she was working on and how she hoped the stonework on the Hall would make it through another winter. It was almost as an aside at the end that she mentioned Elliot.

He’s been calling me a lot more recently, which has been lovely. Call it a mother’s intuition but I think he might even have met someone new! I rang him the other night when he was at a restaurant opening and I could hear a girl’s voice in the background. When he rang me back the next day he was so happy and upbeat, it was like speaking to a different person. I don’t suppose he’s mentioned anything to you? We’re getting on so well at the moment I don’t want to rock the boat and scare him off with questions! Lizzy, I can only thank you for being such a kind friend to him through this difficult time. You know the offer to come to Beeston Hall is always here.

Love and best wishes, Cassie xx

It felt like someone had crept up behind Lizzy and poured a bucket of cold water over her.

‘Off out, sweets?’ Bianca asked as she stood up.

‘I just need to get some air.’

‘Are you all right? Sweets, your coat!’ she called after Lizzy. ‘You’ll freeze to death out there!’

Lizzy didn’t need a coat. The initial feeling of shock had been replaced by a rising anger. She left the office and crossed over the road to the ornamental park where she often ate her lunch in the summer. Mind buzzing, she started pacing round the small perimeter.

What restaurant opening? Elliot hadn’t mentioned anything to Lizzy about it. And who was this girl he’d met? Lizzy realized that aside from an hour or two a week when they met up for coffee, she knew nothing about what he got up to. She didn’t even know where he lived, other than it was some apartment on the river. He’d always had his own place, some fishy excuse about him and Amber keeping different hours and her being a bad sleeper. He could have started a whole new relationship and Lizzy wouldn’t have even known. Then again, why
would
she have known? It’s not like there was anything official between them, was there?

She sat down on a damp bench. She should never have gone along with this stupid thing in the first place. Cassandra had been looking for anyone to help and Lizzy had willingly stepped in. Nic was right: she’d been a naïve idiot. Cassandra and Elliot had both used her in their own ways. Lizzy watched a sparrow land on the ground in front of her and start pecking for non-existent crumbs. The worst thing of all was that she’d let them.

Saturday was a foul day, cold and windy. Poppet and Lizzy hibernated at Lizzy’s, drinking tea and watching the
Murder, She Wrote
omnibus. Apparently Nic was on some team bonding day with work. Not that Lizzy knew this first-hand, since Nic still hadn’t returned any of her calls.

Poppet had assumed Lizzy’s preoccupied mood was to do with Nic, which in part it was. ‘I’m sure she’ll come round soon. Give her time.’

‘The ball’s in her court now. I’m not going to beg.’ Lizzy stared moodily at the TV screen.

Beside her, Poppet sighed unhappily. ‘Oh, dark times.’

An hour later they were on their third episode. Jessica Fletcher had lured the killer to a museum in Cairo and the police had just turned up to arrest him.

‘She knows a lot of dodgy people, doesn’t she?’ Poppet was busy putting her hair up in a bun for the umpteenth time. ‘Her lifelong friends always seem to turn out to be master criminals. I wonder if there’s going to be some sort of big finale, where it’s revealed she’s been hiding in plain sight the whole time, like a female Dr Evil.’

Outside it had started to rain heavily. Only 3 p.m., and it was getting dark already. Lizzy got up. ‘Another cuppa?’

‘Ooh, yes please. Out of my special mug.’ Poppet snuggled into the sofa. ‘I’m so happy we’re not going out later.’

Lizzy went out to the kitchen. It would be her fifth cup of tea that day, but she still couldn’t shake the cold, hollow feeling inside.

She stared out of the window at the scrubby bit of grass that counted as a communal garden as she waited for the kettle to boil. At least they had
Strictly
and
X Factor
to look forward to, and an M&S meal deal for two.

‘Your phone beeped!’ Poppet said when Lizzy came back in the living room. It was another email from Elliot; after his disappearing act a flurry of messages had started to arrive, asking to meet up. Lizzy hadn’t replied. Two could play at that game.

She chucked the BlackBerry on the sofa.

About forty-five minutes later the doorbell rang. The two girls exchanged a look. ‘Who’s that?’ Lizzy said fearfully.

‘I don’t know, it’s your flat!’

No one knocked on your door in London unless they were the police or religious fanatics. Lizzy went over and peered out of the window. The front porch jutted out, so you could never see who was there.

The doorbell rang again. ‘Do you want me to get it?’ Poppet asked.

‘I’ll go.’ If it was Jehovah’s Witnesses Lizzy didn’t want them invited in for the evening.

She walked down the hallway, picking her knickers out of her bum. If it
was
Jehovah’s Witnesses, hopefully they’d be scared off by Lizzy’s scarecrow hair and zebra-print onesie.

Lizzy pulled open the door, ready to issue a polite ‘bugger off’. Her mouth fell open. Instead of a man and woman with smart suits and hopeful smiles, Elliot was standing there holding a rather bedraggled umbrella.

‘Hiya,’ he said awkwardly.

Lizzy was in shock. ‘How did you know where I lived?’

Elliot dragged his gaze away from her zebraprint onesie. ‘You’ve told me the name of your street before and that you live in a block of flats. The rest was down to journalistic deduction.’ He nodded at the windowsill, at the figurine of Moominpappa Lizzy had bought off eBay.

She started to recover from the fact that Elliot Anderson was standing on her doorstep. ‘You’re very presumptuous, rocking up like this.’

He tried a grin. ‘I looked up
Murder, She Wrote
on the TV listings.’

‘You’ve been very quiet lately,’ she said. ‘If it wasn’t for your tweets I’d have thought you’d fallen off a cliff.’

He looked semi-contrite. ‘I’ve had a pretty full-on week.’

‘How come? Have you been out meeting lots of women?’

Elliot’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You tell me.’ She crossed her arms and then uncrossed them, in case it looked like she was overreacting. ‘You’ve been presenting this heartbroken front, but who knows what you really get up to?’

He started to look distinctly uncomfortable. ‘I’m not sure where this has come from, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘How was the restaurant opening?’

‘The what?’

‘Didn’t you go to a restaurant opening this week?’

He frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Someone I know saw you there,’ Lizzy said quickly.

‘Right,’ he said after a moment. ‘Yes, I went to a restaurant opening. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it …’

‘Why would you?’ she said blithely. ‘I’m just a shoulder to cry on.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he said angrily.

Lizzy kept a pointed silence. Eventually Elliot sighed. ‘I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong here. One minute everything was fine between us, the next minute you’re treating me like I’m Harold Shipman. I’m sorry if I went off radar. Like I said, things have been pretty hectic.’