Jade about turns and practically drags me by the arm towards Lauren, like she’s being pulled by a tractor beam, loudly introducing me to everyone on the other side of the room as ‘Tara’s badass lawyer’ which, to be fair, is more than Tara has done.
‘You bet she is,’ Lauren asserts. ‘I’m telling you ladies, this is the smartest woman I know and also the greatest. You should totally take her card.’
‘No! It’s a party! I’m not even sure I brought any with me,’ I respond, knowing full well that I have at least twenty bespoke business cards in my bag. I breathe a small sigh of relief. At least I’ll hopefully have something positive to share with Harriet when I get back to the office next week.
Half an hour in and I realise I haven’t thought about Ed since I got here. Of course, I only realise this by thinking about him, and now I can’t stop. I knew there would be couples here, but it’s starting to sink in that Ed and I may never be at a party together again. Any married friends we have will have to choose between us and it’s likely they’ll choose Ed, as he’s probably more fun to be around.
‘Drink up!’ I hear Tara say as she hands me another wine. ‘My girls are at their granny’s and I intend to enjoy myself. Come on– you’re not on the clock you know!’
‘Oh, I know,’ I reply. ‘I’ve just been chatting too much. Tell me, who’s that woman in the red glasses?’
‘My agent,’ Tara replies. ‘Absolute star, though she’s crafty as hell. Quite a few folk here are with her talent agency. This partywas her idea. Oh, you should meet her. Dolly! DOLLY! Come and meet Kate. . .’
Ed
I hang up and check my watch. It’s 5pm already and I’m still in the joggers I wore to bed last night. . . and the night before.
I run the shower and spend at least ten minutes debating whether to even get in. I truly cannot be bothered with this. The whole routine of getting showered and changed just to stand in a room full of strangers. And it’s New Year’s Eve. My first one without Kate. All I want to do is spend it with her. It’s been four days since she left and I feel numb. Most of her things are still here, so it feels like she is, too. I have to believe she’ll be back; the alternative is too grim to contemplate.
By six-thirty, I’m ready to go, wearing the same shirt I wore on Christmas Day and hoping it doesn’t smell. Normally I’d have a bit of a preen before I go out, but I barely even check the mirror. There’s no point. I don’t give a shit how I look– and besides, there’s no one to look nice for, anyway. Looking nice for Kate was never a problem because she’d get excited by the strangest things. I could be wearing designer gear and she’d be more turned on by my hands or even just a look I’d give her. Once she even dragged me into bed when my hair sat a particular way. God, I loved that.
The Tube is unsurprisingly rammed this evening and I find myself uncomfortably squished up against the doors. I’m alwaysslightly in awe of people who can just stand in the carriage, barely holding on to anything and never stumble or fall into someone else when the train suddenly jerks. I certainly wasn’t blessed with this skill, knocking my head off the doors several times. I’m not opposed to a concussion right now, to be fair– anything to get out of tonight.
Being six foot three, my height makes it easier to spot Graham when I arrive at a rather crowded Sloane Square. Well, that and the fact he’s the only one around who looks like Tom Hanks inCastawayfrom the neck up.
‘All right, fella,’ he says, looking me up and down. ‘I see you’re letting the world know you have no intention of having any fun tonight.’
I can’t help but laugh. ‘The audacity!’ I exclaim. ‘When you’ve come out dressed as a malnourished Hagrid.’
‘Funny!’ he replies. ‘Maybe there’s hope for you yet.’
‘You seem to forget that you also didn’t want to come,’ I remind him. ‘No idea why you’re now so chipper.’
‘Because I’m spending New Year’s Eve with you,’ he replies. ‘Oh, listen– I’ve brought a bottle of whisky with me, because it’s horrible and also looks more expensive than it is. If anyone offers you this, say no.’
‘I hate whisky, anyway,’ I reply. ‘Shit, should I have brought anything?’
‘Only your big-boy pants!’ he replies. ‘I doubt Kate’s away at her spa retreat pining for you. She’ll be covered in cucumber, getting her eyebrows tattooed on or something.’
The house is a twenty-minute walk from the Tube station, which isn’t particularly fun when it’s minus two, but we have zero chance of catching a cab right now. By seven-thirty, we’ve finally found the street.
‘Shit, let me just call Dolly and get the number?’ Graham says. ‘I can’t find the invite.’
I wait, slowly losing the feeling in my legs, while he swipes down his contacts.
‘Dolly, what number is this place? Seven, OK. We’ll be there in two secs. . . yes, I did bring a friend– you think I’m hanging out with you all night? Love you, too.’
‘Number seven, blue door,’ he informs me. ‘It sounds quite lively in there. Hopefully, everyone’s already drunk and we can pretend we stayed longer than we actually do.
‘Sounds like a plan,’ I reply, following him towards the house with the blue door. God, I hope this is painless.
Kate
‘Oh, here’s my boy. Graham, sweetheart! Over here.’
I turn in the direction of Dolly’s wildly waving arm and feel my jaw hit the floor. That’s Graham. Ed’s Graham. Shit. . . wait. Is that Ed?’
Graham waves back then pauses when he sees me. He turns and looks at Ed, who doesn’t notice Graham because he’s too busy looking at me. What the hell is going on? Why are they here? My head spins around to find Lauren, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
