AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Vince scoffs as if Jack said, ‘The dress code is full nudity, except each guest must sport a crash helmet or be fined.’
‘Michael Waterstreet drunkenly dancing,’ rambles Jack. ‘Mute Martin crying over his crush on Gail. Really good food. Narcissists for miles .?.?.’
I laugh.‘Mute Martin.’
‘Think about it.’ Jack smiles. ‘I’ll drop the ticket on your desk. No pressure. If you want to use it, use it .?.?.’
‘I will. Thank you.’
And .?.?.could I? Go with Jack to a party? As a plus-one? I wonder if he remembers all those Boss Man Michael cocktails we drank together at the Christmas party, those hot, tipsy grins, the chemistry between us, the way he’d asked me to message him .?.?. But then, he has never spoken of it, so perhaps it really was one sided, and the amount of rum in the cocktail made me hallucinate? The Boss Man Michael was after all, a volatile drink. The sort of specimen that should be scientifically studied.
‘Good,’ is all Jack says, and when he leaves, Vince says, ‘Gail needs a man better than Martin Sachs. Someone respectful. Someone good with their hands,’ and he holds up a palm under the lamplight and looks at it as if it’s marble.
*
Text message from Mum:Your dad arrives home tomorrow. I will speak to him as soon as he’s comes in. I’m still so very sorry, Millie. I really am. X
*
From: Millie Chandler
To: Alexis Lee
Subject: Friday
Cate and I are going shopping Friday. I know you hate wandering around the shops but you could meet us for lunch after, like we used to? Please unblock me.
Chapter Fifteen
‘If it’s just your face that’s going to show, you need the face to be, like,on point.You know?’ Cate picks up an eyeshadow palette, and flips it open. ‘Ohh,yes.Subtle. Sexy. The pigment on this stuff is really good too. What do we think? My treat!’
We’ve been in Superdrug for fifteen minutes, as Cate stops by every make-up stand and looks at every single row, holding shades against my face, before putting them back. I wasn’t sure whether I’d accept Jack’s plus-one – attend a party that willdefinitelybe attended by colleagues I may have emailed. But Cate perched at the bottom of my bed this morning holding a black all in one catsuit (almost like the things set changers wear on stage, so as not to be seen by the audience), and one of those big suit covers with a coat hanger jutting out the top. ‘Film is the theme, you say?’ She’d grinned. ‘Well, I’ve had an idea. You’re going to be anactualmovie scene.’ And then she unzipped the suit-bag to reveal a giant rectangle frame youwear, like a human photo frame. ‘I was the Mona Lisa for a work thing once, but I say we paint this frame to look like a reel offilmandyouare the star? Plus, when you don’t have the portrait on, it’s a sexy catsuity thingy.’ And when I’d tried to object, she’d said, ‘I’m doing your hair and your make-up, and I am driving you to the party. So, you have no excuses!’ And maybe it was because I knew she was right, and maybe it was seeing how .?.?.brightCate looked, for the first time in weeks. But I agreed. (And actually felt a little excited once I had.)
Cate pays for the palette and grins excitedly when we step out into Leigh town centre, making the bag dance in her hand. It’s busy in town today. The air cool, tinged with woodsmoke, rap music from the clothes shop opposite, floating through its open door, shop windows splattered and plastered with Halloween fake blood and ‘do not cross’ tape. We wander, heading for the footpath that leads to the beach, and the route home, to our little flat.
‘Tea, biscuits and outfit planning when we get home.’ Cate smiles. Cate has always had a way of making everywhere feel safe and homely, just by being there. Even when she’s sad and mending a heart of her own. Since she moved in, it feels like our own little capsule of a family, back at Four, The Logans, and I’m grateful. Especially now my own family feels flammable at the moment. Like the strike of a match could send my parents up in family-shaped flames. And Mum is telling Dad today, about Julian. It’s why I’m pleased to be here, distracted with Cate, ambling through the beautiful, little, higgledy streets of our town. It’s why Cate suggested the party too. ‘Something fun foryou.Remember you?’ she’d said.
‘Oh, man, would you look at that,’ Cate beams.There’s a wedding party spilling out of the church. The bells dinging, and guests scattering on the path, a sea of trodden-on confetti, pastel dresses and cold rubbed-at arms.
‘There’s something so magical about passing a wedding, isn’t there?’ mulls Cate as we walk. ‘Being a faceless extra on a day the two people getting married will remember for the rest of their lives, but a day that will fade into total insignificance for you. I don’t know, I like thinking about that.’
‘You’re such a romantic.’ And it’s such a Cate thing to say. Despite everything, despite a break-up and horrible Nicholas, who keeps texting, keeps calling her office, she’s hopeful. And of course, I wouldn’t have expected anything else. Cate is just one of those people – a coper. A doer. A relentless bouncer-backer.
‘I just love the idea of normal life just .?.?. lifeing, but, amongst it all, these amazing moments are happening. Like seeds,’ says Cate. ‘Right? Ralph always says that about seeds. You plant a seed, and you’re not really sure what’s going to come of them. But you know something will.’
‘Oh, I love Ralph’s wisdom,’ I say, and it warms me through, like brandy, how Ralph is such a part of Cate’s life now, and she, his.
‘Hisobliviouswisdom.’ Cate smiles. ‘And me too.’
We cut through the shaded footpath, out onto Leigh Hill, a slice of glittering teal estuary getting closer and closer. We cross over, onto the footbridge that traverses the train track, and oh, Leigh looks beautiful. So very handsome and dashing. The tide is out, and boats are stranded on the sand. It reminds me of a painting sometimes, this town. A moody canvas of thick, trowelled on paint. One of those souvenir pens, the waves moving every time it’s tilted.
‘I keep thinking about Alexis,’ I tell Cate. ‘I emailed her again, about today, and she didn’t answer me. And she refused the bloody brownies delivery.’
Cate tips her head to one side. ‘Babe.Seriously. You apologised. More than enough times. You know Alexis, she needs to cool off. And there’s only so much you can do. She didn’t answer me either.’
‘I know. I just – I feel sick about it all, when I think about her. Shedidhurt me, but – she’s Alexis, you know? I keep thinking I’ll just go there, but if her dad answers .?.?. I don’t know, he’s an old man, bless him. He doesn’t need the drama. It feels like over-stepping.’ And I don’t feel surprised that Alexis has gone full blown ‘disappearance’. Alexis is very all-or-nothing. Ruthless, in what and whom she surrounds herself with. But I hoped she’d treat me, her friend of seven years, a little different. But then, I suppose she’s hurt. (Didshe really need to post it on TikTok, though?)
Cate links her arm through mine. We crunch through a twirling, circling scatter of autumn leaves. ‘Look, it’ll do you good to forget about everything and concentrate on the party,’ she says. ‘Get your hair done, your make-up, wear something a bit daring, a bit funny and light-hearted, something for you. And Jack Shurlock will simplydieof longing.’
