Summer at Tiffany's (3 page)

‘You mean like last night?' Henry grinned, with a wink, as he held the door open for her and she sprinted down the four flights of stairs. ‘Because that really was something . . .'

‘Shut up!' she laughed.

Everyone was waiting for them when they arrived eleven minutes later, with ninety seconds to spare.

‘Jesus Christ, you cut it fine!' Archie said, wild-eyed, his red hair leaping like a lord – he badly needed a haircut – as Cassie and Henry shot into view on the westbound District Line platform at Victoria, the agreed meeting place. There must have been thirty or forty other men just like them – in suits and trainers – clustered around, waiting for the four minutes past eight. ‘Give a guy a heart attack why don't you? I thought I was going to have to do this thing on my own.'

‘You'll never walk alone, mate,' Henry winked, patting him heartily on the shoulder.

‘It's not the walking I'm worried about,' Archie said, checking the tension on his red braces and loosening his tie. ‘I didn't fancy asking Suze to be my running buddy.'

Henry laughed, not least because his sister, Suzy – Archie's wife – was wearing a face like thunder as she tried to hold on to her wriggling two-year-old daughter, Velvet, who was unfortunately in the throes of a biting phase and was eyeing the legs around her with particular appetite.

The train pulled in to the station with a squeal of brakes, the doors hissing open as everyone spilled in, the carriages blessedly relatively empty as they went against the rush-hour traffic and headed out instead towards the suburbs.

Cassie greeted Suzy with a kiss, easily taking Velvet from her as the toddler spied ‘Auntie Kiss-Kiss' and settled peacefully on her lap.

‘Oversleep again, did you?' Suzy asked wryly. She knew perfectly well why Cassie and Henry were forever sleeping past their alarm.

Cassie mouthed a sarcastic ‘Ha, ha' back to her as the train pulled out. It was carnage in the carriage as the panoply of men in suits and trainers dominated – some, led by Archie, began singing sea shanties (quite why, she didn't know); others were jogging lightly on the spot, stretching their arms and necks – as the regular commuters looked on in puzzled but persistent silence.

‘God, it's like the last train to Brighton in here,' Suzy said, wrinkling her nose as the aroma of a McDonald's breakfast drifted over. ‘Honestly, every year it's the same and every year I swear never again . . .'

Cassie tilted her head sympathetically. ‘Arch is so determined to make it, though. He tries
so
hard and it'd be terrible for you to miss it.'

‘He's
never
going to make it, Cass,' Suzy said in a low tone. ‘His idea of a training session is jogging down to the pub.'

Cassie shook her head resolutely. ‘Nope. This is his year. I can feel it.'

‘Well, that's one of us.'

Cassie jigged her legs lightly, softly singing the theme tune to
Sleeping Beauty
to Velvet – her emerging favourite film – as the train rattled along the tunnel, rocking side to side in the blackness until the gradual whine of the brakes was heard, the iconic London Underground sign whizzing past the windows, indecipherable at speed, but gradually slowing like a roulette wheel so that she could make out ‘South Kensington' in red letters.

The doors opened again and most of the passengers on the platform took one look at the assorted bunch in shirtsleeves and trainers – some of whom were trying to raise a haka – and opted for the neighbouring carriages.

‘Right, well, nearly there,' Archie said as the train started moving again. He put himself through some dubious stretching exercises before bounding over, his freckled hand gently rustling Velvet's white-blonde hair. ‘Kiss Daddy for luck, Velvet?' he asked, bending down, lips pursed in an impressive trout pout as he waited – and waited – for his toddler to comply.

Suzy was just as reluctant, fussing with Archie's bike clips instead, which he had attached to his trousers to minimize ‘wind resistance', then adjusting his braces and checking he'd put Vaseline on his nipples. ‘We don't want a repeat of last year, do we?' she asked, before giving him a firm peck on the lips.

‘Ready, mate?' Henry asked, rolling up his shirtsleeves and handing his jacket and briefcase to Cassie with a kiss. He pushed his index finger against the tip of her nose, his eyes lingering on her mouth, just as the train jolted to a complete stop. ‘Don't move,' he said with a wink, before turning and slipping through the mass of City-shirted backs to the doors.

‘As if,' she sighed to herself, hugging his jacket tighter.

With their customary hiss, the doors opened and the pack set off with a roar, sprinting onto the platform, arms pumping and ties flying. Cassie couldn't help but get up with Velvet and watch them go. Henry was in the lead group, of course, racing up the stairs, which were positioned bang outside their carriage; Arch was bringing up the rear and looking like he'd got a stitch before he'd even reached the top. Within a minute they were out of sight, although not earshot.

Cassie ducked back into the carriage. Having been overcrowded only seconds before, it was now empty and quiet, the remaining passengers settling back down with relief to their newspapers and smartphones, the new ones boarding hastily as the station attendant held up his paddle and blew the whistle.

Suzy lifted the massive nappy bag, which was significantly larger than the toddler it served, off the seat she had ‘reserved' and Cassie sat down again, handing over Velvet and carefully folding Henry's jacket over her lap as the train pulled away. She checked his briefcase to make sure he'd remembered, in all the rush, his iPad, which contained his notes.

‘When's the meeting?' Suzy asked.

‘Nine.'

‘
Nine?
How's he going to get back into town in time for that?'

‘He's not. They're doing it over breakfast at the Hurlingham.' The private club was based on the outer boundary of Fulham, the Thames flanking it on one side, and was only two Tube stops further on from where this daft interlude was supposed to end.

Suzy shook her head. ‘You are completely stark raving bollocksy-mad. I thought you said this meeting was the make or break for the Arctic expedition?'

‘It is,' Cassie murmured, checking the iPad was actually charged.

‘And yet he thought it was a good idea to do his best
Chariots of Fire
impression half an hour beforehand?'

Cassie smiled. They both knew this event was run to mark the anniversary of Bannister breaking the four-minute mile. It was usually scheduled for the date of the actual anniversary – 6 May – but Henry, as the organizer, had had to push it back a few weeks as he'd been travelling so much, pulling the team together and schmoozing the great and good of the political and environmental worlds who liked what he was doing. He couldn't afford to cancel again on account of a meeting, especially with the expedition just around the corner now, which would take him out of the country again. ‘He reckons they'd understand if he's late.'

‘He'd better hope they do. Isn't someone else in the running for the grant?'

‘Yes, but it's fine. This is just about being seen to be following correct procedure; the fact is, the whole thing's been all but agreed.'

Suzy paused, only slightly mollified. ‘Well, I personally think you're loons.'

‘I know.' Cassie instinctively reached across and stroked Velvet's round cheek again. She really was a dreamy-looking child, inheriting her father's dimples and her mother's distinctive blonde hair and dark brown eyes. (It was on account of her rich, velvety eyes that she was known by her middle name and not her first, Clemency, or even her beloved antenatal nickname, Cupcake.)

‘You're dead broody,' Suzy smirked.

Cassie whipped her hand away smartly. ‘I am not!' she retorted, as though Suzy had said, ‘You're dead ugly,' instead.

‘So then . . . ?'

‘I'm simply hatching a plan to kidnap your delicious daughter and sell her to Vera Wang as a professional flower girl.'

‘Ha! Don't think I haven't considered it!' Suzy gave a sharp laugh, but something in her tone vibrated in Cassie's head like a tuning fork.

‘How
is
work?'

Suzy's wedding-planning consultancy in Pimlico netted all the chicest, most cosmopolitan brides in one of London's smartest quarters, although that also meant their demands were off the scale and Suzy was often run ragged in her quest to deliver them the perfection they sought. Yet she had seemed uncharacteristically mellow recently.

There was a protracted silence as Suzy's eyes roamed the carriage as though looking for spies. ‘Houston, we have a problem,' she said finally, her eyes meek, for once, as they met Cassie's.

‘What kind of problem?'

‘A problem that I hadn't realized is as bad as it is.' Suzy shook her head, distractedly playing with one of Velvet's cowlicks. ‘You remember Archie's last bonus at Christmas was pants?'

‘Yes.' How could they ever forget? Suzy had rampaged like a wounded bull at the bank's very clear message for her husband to push off, as Henry had taken Archie down to the pub to drown his sorrows.

‘Well, I thought it was just a matter of him making a few phone calls, you know? But I kid you not, he has more meetings with headhunters than he does with clients, and still nothing. The market's dead and he's stressed to the eyeballs.'

Cassie couldn't pretend she knew anything about the world of finance or what a risk-weighted asset was. ‘But people are still getting married, right? I mean, things are still good for you work-wise?'

Cassie realized the train had stopped, the carriage emptying dramatically, and she glanced round to see where they were. Earls Court. Already? They had sailed through Gloucester Road without her even noticing.

‘Listen, I didn't realize the scale of things with Arch. He's been trying to keep it from me, and I've been so wrapped up in Velvet . . .' She kissed her daughter's head again, her eyes instinctively closing at the scent of her. ‘Well . . . I've been turning jobs down, trying to strike that famous work–life balance.' She looked across at Cassie, her big brown eyes doe-like as Cassie saw fear in them. ‘I was trying to learn from my mistakes, for once. I didn't want to be all strung out like I was before she was born, you know?'

Cassie rubbed her friend's arm lightly as the train pulled away again. ‘Of course you didn't. You've done exactly the right thing, putting Velvet first.' Suzy's mania in the run-up to Kelly's wedding had led to Velvet being born several weeks early.

‘Have I, though? Cass, the phone's barely rung with any new enquiries for weeks now. I think word went out that I wasn't taking on any new jobs, as opposed to I wasn't taking on
too many
jobs. I've got Marie colour-coding the magazines, and my last bride gets married a week Saturday. There's nothing in after that.'

‘Nothing?' Cassie couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.

Suzy shook her head, swallowing hard. ‘That's not all. We're . . .' Her voice faltered. ‘We're struggling with the mortgage. Arch thinks we might have to sell.'

Cassie grasped her friend by the wrist. ‘Oh, Suze, no!'

‘But you mustn't say a word about it – not to Arch, not to Henry either,' Suzy said urgently. ‘If Arch wants to talk about it, then he will. You've got to let him bring it up. He'd kill me for telling you.'

‘Of course not. I won't say a word.'

They sat in silence for a bit, both rocking to the motion of the train.

‘So what are you going to do?' Cassie asked.

‘Not sure. Hang out at the London Eye and hand my card to anyone coming off with a red rose and an empty bottle of fizz?'

‘Surely your contacts and suppliers can put the word out for you?'

‘Listen, by the time someone gets to a caterer or a florist, they've already got the wedding planner.'

‘Oh, right, yes, I guess.' Cassie bit her lip. ‘Well, I mean, I can keep an eye out for you. I've got the Ascot gig tomorrow and then the Gold Cup polo. I bet loads of proposals happen there! I could keep a load of your cards on one of the tables.'

Suzy arched an eyebrow. ‘Or you could just hurry up and marry my brother? Now that's a wedding I'm dying to organize.'

‘We're too busy to get down to the nitty-gritty of organizing something like that at the moment. Henry's about to swan off to the Arctic, and I'm booked for the next five years of Ascots already.'

It was Suzy's turn to place a hand on Cassie's arm. ‘And that is precisely why people like you hire people like me.'

Cassie had to grin. ‘Suze, I promise you that there will be no one organizing my wedding other than you. Not me. Not even my mother.' Cassie frowned. ‘Actually, especially not my mother – she'd have me in gold.'

‘Well, I don't know, Cass,' Suzy sighed despondently. ‘What hope do I have of landing other brides, if I can't get you to marry my own freakin' stud-muffin brother?'

Cassie shrugged. ‘It's not because I don't love him, you know.'

‘Oh, I know that! We all know exactly how much you two love each other, thanks to the almost-permanent snogging going on between you.'

The train stopped again. West Brompton. They were overground now and Cassie looked out over the London rooftops, pigeons roosting on chimney pots, inflated white clouds billowing across the sky like flyaway sheets.

The carriage was almost theirs alone now, save for a couple of teenagers with their feet on the seats at the end – they were lucky Suzy hadn't pounced on them: she was to dirty shoes what Kirstie Allsopp was to litter – and a man in a suit two seats along, engrossed in a level of Candy Crush on his iPad. Cassie wondered whether he'd missed his stop. The area they were travelling into was becoming more and more residential.