Ice and a Slice (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

“How did it go? Are you okay? You’re ever so quiet.” Tanya’s voice broke into her thoughts and SJ sighed and dragged her gaze away from a point beyond the windscreen and the London streets that she’d been staring fixedly at ever since Tanya had picked her up.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. I was just thinking.” Remembering was closer to the mark. Just before she’d left S.A.A.D, Kit had stressed again that she didn’t have to discuss any problems that may have led to her drinking – but that she really should consider making another appointment, which she’d declined with a swift shake of her head. But it hadn’t stopped the memories flooding back, unbidden, as soon as she’d got out of the place.

She hadn’t thought about Derek, who’d been the love of her life – and also the hate of her life, if there was such a thing – for a very long time. And she was amazed how much it hurt. She could easily have broken down and wept, which was madness; she’d cried more than enough tears over Derek bloody Anderson.

“Well, you don’t look fine,” Tanya persisted relentlessly. “Where are we going for lunch?”

“Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“Yes, but not for a while. Mind you, I don’t think we’ll bother with a wine bar this week.” Tanya’s mobile buzzed to announce the arrival of another text and SJ remembered why she wasn’t going to confide in Tanya again. She knew she was being childish. Despite the fact she’d decided she didn’t need Kit’s help any more – or perhaps because of it – she felt terribly vulnerable and shaken up.

“I think I’d like to go straight home if it’s okay with you, Tanya.”

At least at home she could have a good cry in private and a large amount of wine now she’d decided she’d done with cutting down.

“SJ, stop shutting me out. I’m your best friend. I want to help.”

“I don’t need any help,” SJ sniffed. “I’m not some sad little charity-case you can fit in when you get a spare moment in your hectic schedule.”

“For fuck’s sake, is that how you see me?” Tanya slammed on the brakes and the car behind them blasted its horn in protest.

SJ had obviously touched a nerve. Tanya never said ‘Fuck’. SJ clung on to her seat belt as Tanya stalled the car, eliciting another horn blast of disapproval from behind, and rounded on her furiously. “Has it ever occurred to you that other people have problems too?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about your problems.”

“Perhaps that’s because they’re not mine to discuss.” Two pink blotches had appeared on Tanya’s angular cheekbones and her green eyes were glittery – whether with rage or hurt, it was difficult to tell.

“I’m sorry. What I said just now was totally out of order. I didn’t have a very good session, but that’s no excuse to take it out on you.”

“Apology accepted.” Tanya blinked, re-started the car, pointedly ignoring the furious driver behind her, and they set off once more.

“I really am sorry,” SJ said again, after a few moments’ tense silence, wishing she could stop apologising and, more importantly, stop saying things that meant she needed to apologise. “Whose problems are they then?”

“Michael’s.”

“Ah.” There didn’t seem much else to say and for a while they didn’t speak. After about ten minutes SJ noticed they’d just gone through Shoreditch, which was a weird way to go to her house, but it wasn’t until they hit Stoke Newington that she realised Tanya wasn’t taking her home.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Twenty minutes later they were driving alongside Epping Forest and SJ fantasised briefly that Tanya might know some gorgeous little pub and as she wasn’t working today she could have a very large glass of wine when she got there. But her hopes were dashed when about twenty minutes later Tanya drew into a Forestry Commission car park, beyond which was a picnic area set up with wooden benches and a brick-built barbecue, alongside a stack of beating equipment to put out fires.

“Er – any particular reason why we’re stopping here?”

“We’re going for a walk. I can think better when I walk and the exercise will do us good.”

SJ could think of a great many other things she’d far rather be doing – in fact, walking along some woodland path towards the middle of nowhere came somewhere at the bottom of her list of Great Ways To Spend My Day Off. But she could see Tanya was not in the mood to argue.

At least she had trainers on – unlike her friend. “Aren’t you going to find it awkward in those heels?”

“I’ve got some walking boots in the back.” Tanya flicked her a glance and SJ decided not to mention that smart suits weren’t perfect attire for walking either. For the first time since they’d met this morning she didn’t feel underdressed.

And also for the first time since they’d met that morning, she realised she was being utterly selfish. Tanya had taken time off work to bully her into keeping her appointment and she hadn’t even thanked her. As she followed Tanya along a path strewn with pine needles, she could see her navy pin-striped shoulders were stiff with tension.

“I’m not surprised you’re pissed off with me,” SJ called tentatively. “I’ve been a total cow.”

Tanya neither answered nor turned, but a few minutes later she slowed and then paused at a point where the path opened out into a glade. The trees were mostly oaks – gigantic and ancient, their old trunks velvet with moss and the odd bright patch of yellow fungi, and even though they were still quite close to the road, it was almost totally silent.

Tanya headed towards a fallen tree, its surface soft and rotten, and, heedless of her suit, slumped down on one end of it. “I’m not pissed off with you,” she replied belatedly. “Cross maybe, because you won’t let me help you…”

“I’m not the only one guilty of that, am I?”

“Touché.” Tanya stretched out her legs, stirring leaves with the toe of her boot. “And I know this probably seems a mad place to talk – but it’s peaceful and I like it. Michael and I sometimes come here for picnics.”

“I don’t think it’s a mad place at all. Ash would love it.”

Tanya smiled and ironically it wasn’t until she did that SJ noticed the fine lines of stress on her face because momentarily they’d softened.

“The other reason I brought you here,” Tanya went on, almost to herself, “is because no one’s likely to overhear us. I’m probably being paranoid but I didn’t want to take any chances. What I want to talk about – well, it must never go any further – and I mean NEVER.”

“Of course it won’t go any further,” SJ said gently, perching beside her on the moss-covered log and thinking she was right – this place embodied peace; it seeped out of the tree trunks. “It can’t be all that bad. A problem shared is a problem halved. Remember?”

“I’m afraid you’ll be shocked. And once I’ve told you I can’t take it back. You’ll always know and it will change the way you feel about Michael and that’s half the reason I haven’t told you about it before, to be honest. I don’t want you to change the way you feel about him. He’s still the same person.”

Feeling a deep sense of compassion because Tanya was obviously sick with worry, SJ touched her arm. “Don’t tell me if you’d rather not. But if you do, I promise I won’t be shocked.”

There was a small silence filled by the faint whispering of the wind through the summer leaves. Somewhere above their heads, claws scraped along a branch and a flutter of squirrel debris fell onto the forest floor.

SJ had just decided Tanya wasn’t going to say anything after all when she began to speak.

“I nipped home from work early, a few months back, and I found Michael in our bedroom dressed in my clothes. Well, when I say my clothes, what I actually mean is my undies.” She paused, her eyes begging SJ not to judge.

It was the last thing SJ had been expecting. She had a brief and vivid image of Michael in women’s underwear. How on earth had he managed to fit into anything of Tanya’s anyway? He wasn’t as big as Tom – he was quite lean, with hairy legs from what she remembered of the last time they’d all had shorts on – but even so, it was hard to picture him in delicate pink lace, or cream satin or a silk G-string. All of Tanya’s underwear was ultra feminine. Everything about Tanya was.

Blinking away the images, she chewed hard on her lip. It was one of those times when you absolutely must not laugh. Like when someone had just told you their beloved granny had died whilst doing a parachute jump at the age of 103. It was the most inappropriate response in the universe. Why was it that your mind led you along such dangerous tracks?

“You are shocked, aren’t you?”

SJ shook her head. She must not laugh. She MUST not laugh. She snorted at the effort of keeping it in.

Think very sad stuff, think you’ve just been told you’ve put on a stone since last slimming class, think you’ve just lost your job, think sad. Think SAD, for God’s sake. What was the matter with her?

She spluttered into her hands. It was passing. Thank heavens, it was passing. As long as Tanya didn’t say anything else for a moment or two, she could get herself back in control.

“SJ, are you laughing?”

“No.” The denial came out as a muffled squeak.

“It’s not bloody funny, you know. How would you feel if you found Tom wearing your bra and knickers?”

Oh God. That was even worse – hairy macho Tom in one of her beige under-wireds and a pair of M&S hold-you-in knickers. SJ snorted again, gave up trying to control herself, put her head between her knees and howled with mirth.

When she finally stopped, the air was so stiff with silence she thought Tanya might have abandoned her in the middle of the forest and gone home. Well, it was no more than she deserved.

She raised her head warily. Tanya was still sitting in the same position, her hands curled like a child’s in her lap. She was staring straight ahead and there were tears trickling down her face.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I know it’s not funny.”

Looking at Tanya’s stricken expression, she didn’t know how she’d ever wanted to laugh at all. She was such a bitch. She certainly wouldn’t have found it amusing if Tanya had laughed about her drinking.

“At least you’re not shocked,” Tanya said in a quiet blank voice. “I suppose that’s something.”

“No, I’m not. I’m intrigued.” SJ delved around in her memory bank for something more helpful to say. She’d never had any first hand experience of cross-dressing – it was probably one of the last taboos. If you were homosexual or a drug addict or an overeater, or if you were into spanking or wife swapping, you could probably raise the subject with your closest friends over a drunken dinner party without too much fear of being shunned, but cross-dressing was still a pretty tricky subject to bring up in polite conversation.

“Do you think maybe he was trying to get in touch with his feminine side?” she asked slowly. “I mean, Michael’s always been very sensitive, hasn’t he? The kind of man who doesn’t mind discussing his emotions. Not a bit like Tom, who’d rather chew off his own arm than tell you how he feels.”

To her dismay, far from being reassured by her words Tanya put her head in her hands and burst into tears. Noisy, abandoned tears that were so out of control and so unlike Tanya that SJ was horrified. Wanting to cry with her, but doubting this would be very much help, she edged along the tree trunk and put her arm awkwardly around her friend’s shaking shoulders. Why was it so difficult to touch when a hug was one of the most basic forms of comfort you could offer? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged anyone who wasn’t Tom.

Tanya’s hair smelt of coconut shampoo and Classique perfume and fresh air. SJ hoped she didn’t smell too much like an old ashtray, but Tanya didn’t push her away, just carried on sobbing with her hands over her face.

SJ didn’t say anything else, because there was absolutely nothing she could think of that wouldn’t have been patronising. Besides, crying was probably the best thing Tanya could do, and she didn’t want to make it any worse. She wished she was better prepared. It would have been good if she could have whisked out a nice clean hanky from her bag to offer, but she knew for a fact it was full of bits of tatty old tissues and a few dog biscuits and three cigarette lighters and several post-its to remind her of things not yet transferred to her diary, which she’d mislaid.

Then, to her immense relief, Tanya stopped crying almost as suddenly as she’d started. She still looked beautiful – her eyes a little shiny, but no mascara smudges, none of the blotchy skin that afflicted SJ when she bawled her eyes out. SJ almost envied her – she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a good cry.