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‘Then I would’ve guilt-tripped you into coming with me,’ Natalie said with a grin. ‘Life’s too short not to take the odd risk. We’re staying in the middle of Bath, and according to all the review sites our hotel does the best breakfast ever. And this one is on me,’ she added, ‘because I know how much you were looking forward to Rome. It was the nearest thing I could think of, because I was guessing that Rome itself might have been too much to bear, even if I’d booked a different hotel.’
Holly hugged her. ‘Thank you. That’s really kind of you.’
‘It’s exactly what you would’ve done for me, if I’d been in your shoes,’ Natalie reminded her. ‘I still think Simon’s the biggest idiot ever. The way he treated you—you deserved a lot better than that.’
Yeah. It would’ve been nice if he’d broken up with her before making Fenella pregnant. That was the bit that really hurt. Why had he kept stringing her along when he clearly didn’t love her any more? Why had he let her believe that everything was just fine? Though it wasn’t all him: why hadn’t she seen the problems for herself?
And she hated the way people treated her as The Woman Who’d Been Cheated On. The whispered conversations that stopped when she walked into a room. The judgements. The friends taking sides. People they’d both known since university, who’d been her friends before she’d met Simon, had thrown in their lot with him; it had made her feel even more worthless, despite the fact she knew she was better off without them. She hadn’t been enough as a partner, and she hadn’t been enough as a friend.
How could she not have noticed their relationship unravelling? The signs must’ve been there before he’d gone to New York. She’d managed to snatch just one weekend with Simon during his secondment, quite early on, and he’d been distracted throughout it. He’d said it was work when she asked him; but now she knew it had been Fenella distracting him.
‘At least he didn’t dump me at the altar,’ Holly said, keeping her tone light. ‘It could’ve been a lot wor
se.’
‘It could’ve been a lot better.’ Natalie rolled her eyes. ‘You’re too nice for your own good.’
‘Believe you me, I’m not being nice. I’m hurt and I’m angry, and bits of me want to punch him and yell and scream. But having a tantrum isn’t going to change things,’ Holly said. ‘Simon doesn’t love me any more, and having a hissy fit isn’t going to make him decide he does love me after all. I don’t want to be in a relationship where I’m the one who loves the other the most. I hate feeling so pathetic.’
‘But you still love him.’
Bits of her did, and bits of her didn’t. ‘Eight years is a long time to be with someone,’ Holly said. ‘And most of them were good years.’ But the other thing that nagged at her was how much of it had been her fault. If she’d made Simon feel loved and appreciated enough, instead of taking him for granted, maybe he would’ve acknowledged that he fancied Fenella but he wouldn’t actually have done anything about it. Those six months of physical distance had turned all too quickly into emotional distance. ‘I guess somewhere along the way we started drifting apart, and I should’ve been paying more attention to him.’ It was the first time she’d acknowledged it to someone else, though the thoughts had kept her awake at night.
‘He should’ve been paying just as much attention to you,’ Natalie countered.
Maybe—but he hadn’t. Holly shrugged. ‘It feels pretty crap right now, but I’ll live. Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn into Miss Havisham or anything like that.’
‘Good, because Simon isn’t worth it.’ Natalie squeezed her hand. ‘OK. We’ll get the train on Friday after work, do the Roman Baths first thing on Saturday morning, go for a walk to look at all the gorgeous houses, have afternoon tea at the Pump Room—and then, dear Cinders, you shall go to the ball.’
‘Ball? What ball?’ Holly asked.
‘I got us tickets for a ball on Saturday night. It’s just outside Bath—in an Elizabethan manor house, which you’ll love. And it’s Regency dress.’
‘Regency dress?’ Holly groaned. ‘So this is all about your Darcy obsession.’
Natalie gave her an unrepentant grin. ‘Asking you wouldn’t have worked, so I’m dragging you out to have some fun.’
Holly grimaced. ‘I love you, Nat, and I do appreciate what you’ve done for me, but a ball isn’t really my idea of fun. I’ve got two left feet. And as for dressing up, the cost—’
‘Problem solved, before you say you don’t have a dress. I’ve already hired one for you,’ Natalie informed her.
‘What? How? It might not fit.’
Natalie coughed. ‘If it fits me, it fits you. Someone on the magazine knows a really good hire place, and I went to see them yesterday. I tried on a few dresses and the ones I got for us are fabulous.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Holls, if nothing else, you’ll enjoy the music. Apparently there’s a brilliant string quartet who are going to play on a floating bandstand in the middle of the lake. So if you just want to sit and listen to them and sip Pimm’s and watch the sunset and not even put a single foot into the ballroom, that’s fine by me.’
Holly knew her best friend was trying to distract her from the train wreck of her personal life, coming up with ideas to keep her busy. And she appreciated it, because otherwise she rather thought she’d start to get really insecure and ask just what was so wrong with her that Simon hadn’t wanted her any more. She’d always known she’d been punching well above her weight—Simon looked more like a film star than an accountant—and when Holly had stalked Fenella on social media she’d discovered that the other woman was super-glamorous.
Fenella was everything Holly herself wasn’t. No wonder Simon had fallen head over heels with her. If you put a scruffy archaeologist who wore ancient jeans and T-shirts and usually had a smear of mud on her face from the trench she was working in next to someone with perfect hair and make-up and a designer suit, it was obvious who’d win in the gorgeousness stakes. Who’d be enough.
‘I’ll set foot in the ballroom,’ Holly promised, ‘so you get a chance to do some dancing. And I appreciate you having my back.’
‘Always,’ Natalie said fiercely. ‘You’ve been my best friend since we were eleven. That’s not going to change. I’m quite prepared to fly over to New York and beat Simon over the head with an umbrella—and threaten to baste Fenella in the stickiest marinade and barbecue her.’
Holly couldn’t help smiling. ‘Thank you, but there are better things to do in New York.’
