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“Well, I only met her myself a few years ago, worse luck,” Louise huffs, her head buried in a cupboard. My point proven. “And that was only because Gerry’s father died and she had to come over for the funeral. We had a job tracking her down. She and Jean- Pierre are always moving around, something to do with him being a self-employed bank analyst. Where on earth did I put those Wedgewood dessert plates? I bet Gerry’s been rearranging my kitchenware again,” she mutters under her breath.
“Maybe we can have a girlie night out with her,” Tina suggest. “The four of us.”
“Yeah,” Louise replies absently, opening a bottom cabinet. “Ha! Just as I thought.” She pulls out a set of colourful ripple-edged plates. “I wish he’d bloody well leave my stuff alone.” Tina and I exchange glances as we take a sip from our teacups simultaneously. There’s a creak in the floorboards above followed quickly by the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs. Roxy barks in the background, the kitchen door flies open and two giggling women fly in.
“Hi, Jess,” I get to my feet.
“Hey, Audrey.” Jess reaches out and gives me a bear hug, then strokes Tina’s head like a pet. “All right, Tina.”
“You girls off?” Louise says, stack of plates in her arms. “Those are fresh out of the oven, help yourselves. Miriam, these are my friends, Audrey and Tina.”
“Hello.” Miriam gives us a little curt nod, hands stuffed in the back pockets of her skinny jeans, voice barely audible. She’s a pretty twenty-something girl with large, brown, sultry eyes and short, dark hair, long fringe swept to the side like blades of grass.
“Yeah, we’ve got a class,” Jess explains, grabbing two muffins, “Ouch, they’re hot, Mum. We’d better get off or we’ll miss our train. Laters.” And they’re gone.
We spend the next hour-and-a-half talking about Tina’s cancer scare, Louise’s miscarriage – and Daniel. Mostly about Daniel. I tell them how generous and thoughtful he is. Just the other day he sent my parents theatre tickets for a West End show that Mum’s been dying to see, best seats in the house too. And he’s found them the ideal home in Larnaca, right on the seafront at a fraction of the usual cost.
Louise and Tina tell me that I’ve got a good catch, that I should hold onto him tightly. And they’re right, of course, they are. But - and there always is a but, isn’t there? Is it wrong to want to be with a man who has less baggage? A man who puts me first? Because wonderful as Daniel is, and there’s no disputing that, I know deep down in my heart, and so does he, that I won’t ever be the centre of his universe. Because that place was taken twenty-nine years ago.
25
Connie drops a bunch of keys onto the table in front of me then takes a large slurp of hot chocolate, regarding me under a grey trilby. Despite hardly any makeup today, she still looks stunning in a navy blue sweater with beige elbow patches and skinny blue jeans, ripped at the knees and thighs. Leaning back in my chair, I catch a glimpse of her red pumps. The exact red Pradas that Daniel bought me recently. I wonder if they chose them together.
“What’s this?” I ask, throwing a glance at the C initial keyring.
“My spare keys to Dad’s flat. You’ll need them for when you go round later to collect a delivery for me.” Another loud slurp.
I almost choke on my drink. “I’m going round?” I ask in horror, spritzing the table with coffee. Connie grimaces, wiping her cheek. Two women at the next table stop talking and gawp at me, white cups in mid-air. “What for?” I whisper in the manner of an M15 agent. I mop up the brown beads of liquid with a napkin in harsh, angry strokes. The women return to their conversation, one of them eyeing me curiously over her cup.
I should’ve known Connie had an ulterior motive for insisting we meet in Hampstead instead of Crouch End; even though I told her I could call round for her at Aliki’s seeing as she’d be in the area, that it’s only a ten-minute walk from Louise’s.
I gaze around the patisserie, taking in the mouth-watering display of fresh cakes on the counter, which I spied hungrily as I breezed in. Big chandeliers sparkle from the high ceilings illuminating the slick, dark furniture, Parisian art hangs on the deep red walls. It is rather lovely in here, though, not to mention expensive. But money means nothing to Connie and it’s her treat today.
“I’ve ordered some stuff for Dad’s party from an online supplier,” Connie says, “balloons, napkins, party bags, that sort of thing.” Jesus, is this a party for a fifty-year-old or a child?
“But it’s over three weeks away,” I exclaim, causing a bearded hipster to look up at me from his laptop. Connie always seems to bring out the shouty person in me.
“Audrey.” She nudges her trilby back, displaying an inch of brown roots against blonde hair. “I need to prepare. I don’t want to leave things until the last minute.” My eyes flit to her pink, plump lips. A bit of hot chocolate had lodged in the corner of her mouth, and I’ve a sudden urge to wipe it. “Mum promised me yesterday that she’d do it, but something’s come up and now she’s backed out,” she says, annoyed. “I’d go myself, but they’re delivering during the school run.” She flicks a glance at her phone. “I wouldn’t ask but I couldn’t think of anyone else.”
“Well, what about your Granny?”
“Oh, my yiayia can’t communicate very well in English.” She rests both elbows on the table, takes another sip, then runs her tongue over her lips, licking off the chocolate stain. Phew. “Besides, how’ll she get there? She can’t even drive. And forget about London Transport, she’ll end up in Cyprus.”
“Connie,” I say regretfully, “when I said I’d help with your dad’s surprise fiftieth, I just meant with simple things, like helping you choose the cake, arranging the catering. My friend Louise is a top chef, actually, I was going to recommend her – mate’s rates.” She nods approvingly at this, lips curved downwards, and for a moment she morphs into Daniel, which is weird because she doesn’t really look like him. Well, not much.
“Look,” I add quickly, diverting from the image in my mind. “I don’t really feel comfortable being in your dad’s flat on my own, not without his permission. I’m sorry, Connie, I’m going have to say no.” Satisfied, I curl my fingers around the curved handle of my white designer mug and take a sip with poise.
“Oh, come on, Audrey, you’ll be doing me a massive favour.” She gathers her eyebrows and inclines her head, mutating into Daniel again. I look away. How can someone’s gestures make you look so much like them? “Dad won’t mind you being there on your own. He’s not like that,” she claims. “He doesn’t mind people looking at his things. You know how easy going he is. Please, Audrey. It’ll only be a ten-minute job - sign for the goods, hide them in the bottom draw of the closet in the lounge, he never looks in there, and then leave. You can bury the keys in the pot plant by the door and I’ll pick them up later.”
I take another sip of coffee as I mull over her suggestion. Helping her out would be a good thing, right? She’s at a loose end and it would give me a few extra brownie points with Daniel. “Connie,” I begin, thinking better of it, “how would I like it if your dad had free rein in my flat without my knowledge, hmm? The thing is…” And just at that moment, my mobile phone goes off in my handbag. “Sorry, Connie, better get this. I’m expecting a call from your dad.” I said I’d cook Daniel a meal tonight. When I say cook I mean heating up M&S grub. I’m not the best cook in the world. He’s probably calling just to confirm. I look at the screen “Mum calling”.
“Hi, Mum.” Connie rolls her eyes.
“Darling, I’ve been trying to reach you all morning, where’ve you been?” I bypass my overnight stay at Daniel’s and go on to explain how I went round to see Louise and that now I’m having coffee with Connie. “Oh, I won’t keep you then, just wanted to let you know that George called. Vicky’s been diagnosed with PND.”
“What’s that when it’s at home?” I say, glancing at an older couple who’ve just arrived. When Mum learns a new word or term she uses it abundantly to show off.
“Post Natal Depression, dear, don’t you read any magazines? That’s what all those secret appointments were about.”
