Still Thinking of You (29 page)

‘Tash, I bet you didn’t know that Rich had a liking for women’s clothes,’ laughed Lloyd, as he pointed to a photo of himself and Rich dressed as characters from the
Rocky Horror Picture Show
.

‘I did, actually. I’ve told you, we don’t have any secrets.’ She laughed at the boyish version of her fiancé dressed in drag.

‘Oh, my God, what were we thinking of?’ giggled Kate, as she stared at a photo of her and Mia with hairstyles that must have required at least a tin of hairspray each to maintain.

‘We thought we were the height of style and sophistication, didn’t we?’ chuckled Mia. ‘I think you are on one or two of these, Jayne,’ she added. ‘Yes, that’s you, in the background, isn’t it?’

Mia pointed to a picture of the gang posing at their first-year summer ball. They were holding glasses of Pimm’s and wide grins, and were all dressed up waiting for the revelry to commence. The boys didn’t look too cringe-worthy, as black tie doesn’t date, but the girls looked outrageous in their pearls, big hair and silky dresses with enormous wide skirts, the type of dress that is now the staple of every charity-shop window, but can’t be found anywhere else. In the background of the shot Jayne loitered.

She was holding a glass of lemonade in one hand, despite both arms being folded across her chunky waist. She had her head tilted to one side, not in a flirtatious manner, as she might today, but because she was painfully shy. She was dressed like the older girls in a wide taffeta gown, only hers was stretched at the seams where she had squeezed herself into a size fourteen, refusing to entertain the idea of wearing a sixteen. You couldn’t see the stressed seams on the photo, but Jayne knew they were there. For her they were always there. That had been the day she caught Rich’s eye, or at least caught him at that stage where he was drunk enough to be irresponsible but not quite so drunk as to pass out. It had been enough for the gauche but ambitious teenager.

‘Is it, really? I can’t remember you ever looking like that,’ mused Kate, as she leant closer to the album to get a better look at the dumpy Jayne. She couldn’t believe that there was a time when she was better looking and slimmer than her now very gorgeous sister-in-law.

‘I’d never have recognized you,’ confirmed Tash. ‘How old were you then?’

‘Sixteen.’ Jayne snatched the album away from Tash’s gaze and quickly turned the page. ‘Here are the boys playing rugger,’ she said, trying to divert attention away from her less attractive, pubescent self. Jayne scowled at Mia. She didn’t like seeing old pictures of herself and she definitely didn’t want Rich seeing them.

‘Sixteen. Ah, just a baby,’ laughed Jason, then he remembered his conversation with Rich on the slopes that morning. He mouthed ‘Sorry’ at the scowling Rich, and tried to put his comment into context by adding, ‘While we were poncing around in our black tie get-ups, you were probably still playing hopscotch, Tash.’

Tash howled, pretending to be outraged, ‘I’m not that much younger. I’d have been thirteen. Believe me, hopscotch was well and truly behind me. But I admit I was probably still practising on the recorder.’

‘That’s a gorgeous one of you, Mia,’ said Kate, as she reached the final page.

It was a stunning shot. Mia had purposefully left the best until last. Jase picked up the album in order to take a closer look. She watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling as she knew it did when he was agitated.

‘Yup, no denying it, you were fucking hot totty,’ he grinned, then added, ‘in your day.’

Mia was elated. Scaley couldn’t take his eyes off the shot, except to stare her down as he added the less sensitive part of his comment. She knew he was joking, that was his style. He never paid her a straight compliment. He always wrapped his praise in a punishing punch. She did the same to him. It was all a bit playground.

She watched as he pored over the photo of her studying in the library. He was transfixed, as she’d hoped he would be. She wondered if he was transported. Did he remember that he was the one who took that photo? Did he remember creeping up on her and tapping her on the shoulder? She’d looked up and blinked as he took the snap. The sunlight flooded through the window, enveloping her in a warm halo of light. She was writing a dissertation which was to form part of her final grade and had totally given up even half-hearted attempts at personal grooming. Her hair was pulled up in an untidy ponytail, her fingernails were badly bitten and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. She was wearing one of Scaley’s rugby shirts. But she was young and happy. She looked more beautiful than most brides do on their wedding day.

She wondered if he remembered that he’d insisted she leave her books, that he’d taken her back to his digs and that they’d made love all afternoon. That the lovemaking had been so stupendous, so energetic, so relaxed, then hard and fast, and then slow, that she had literally cried with delight and fear at such intimacy. A state she had never reached again. She hoped he remembered all that.

Although she didn’t necessarily want him to remember that was the last time they’d made love.

The starters arrived and stole away everyone’s attention from the photos. Mia’s ploy had worked on many levels. Everyone seemed a little more chatty and relaxed as they started to dissect the delicious food and guess the ingredients and preparation techniques.

Ted allowed the prattle to go on without him. He picked up the fat leather album. It was Prada; it must have cost Mia a fortune. He never used to notice what things cost. He never cared. He would always have been able to tell you the share index of any of the FTSE 100 on any day of the week, but he had no idea how much a loaf of bread cost or what the current retail recommended price was on a CD.

Ted reverently turned the pages of the album, deferentially drinking in the images, luxuriating in the memories. He paused at one of him with Rich, Lloyd and Jason. He had his arms flung around the shoulders of Lloyd and Rich; Jason was jumping up and down behind the three of them. Jason had probably set the timer on the camera, then dashed into view. Ted couldn’t exactly remember. Not that the memory of the four of them wasn’t important or special. It was just that they had a number of these carefree, careless moments. There were countless photos of the foursome grinning inanely at life and the lens.

Ted turned the page and paused at the photo where Mia and Kate had laughed over their hairstyles. He knew that Mia was considered the beauty of the pair and Kate thought of as the more dowdy one, and he admitted the hair ‘dos’ did seem a little extraordinary now, but when he looked at the photo all he could see was Kate’s beauty. Kate had such stunning eyes. Eyes with soul, which radiated kindness, warmth and intelligence. Eyes which made her far more beautiful than any treatment in a spa could make any woman. He knew that she didn’t like her pale skin which tended to burn rather than bronze, and he knew that she didn’t appreciate her curvy, sensual plumpness, although she ought to. To him, Kate was the more stunning woman in the picture.

She was the most stunning woman he knew.

And while she looked amazing back then, it was his firm opinion that she had only become more delicious as time had passed. Was there a man alive who didn’t believe his wife was divine during childbirth? Fat, yes. Sweaty, yes. Bloody, yes. But undoubtedly a goddess.

Ted stared at the slightly trimmer, slightly darker-haired version of himself and asked the young lad if he knew how it had all gone so badly wrong? Ted felt he’d let the young chap in the photo down, rather terribly. The young Ted had the respect of the lovely Kate. He’d earned it by being courteous, studious, funny and decent. The young Kate had stared at him with eyes which were kind, warm and intelligent, true, but she’d also looked at him and sensibly weighed up his prospects. Prospects that had been shimmering. The young Ted was stuffed full of promise, opportunity and good fortune. Big Ted barely recognized him.

Ted looked up and caught Kate’s eye. She was watching him study the photos. She noticed that Ted was very pink and sweating. She watched as he pulled out his Paul Smith handkerchief and dabbed his forehead, chin and eyes. Ted thought Kate looked more cross than kind. Rather more irritated than warm, and certainly more confused than intelligent. He’d done that to her. It was his fault. How was he ever going to tell her? He knew he must. If it were possible, he would live with the charade for ever – at least that way he’d keep his Kate. But it was not possible.

Although he’d switched his mobile off throughout the day, tonight he’d forced himself to listen to the increasingly irate messages left by his bank manager. While Kate had showered, he heard that the bank manager was demanding a meeting, no doubt to ask him to hand over the keys to their home. All cards had been withdrawn, both debit and credit. The situation was critical. He knew it would be a very short time before Kate’s eyes shone with derision and scorn.

Oh, God, where had it all gone so badly wrong?

46. The Bar Scene

‘Ted, why are you being so maudlin? Get the drinks in, bruv. You’ll feel better,’ Jayne instructed.

Ted had been silent throughout dinner. He had pored over those stupid photos that everyone other than her seemed to derive so much pleasure from, but he’d said very little. Jayne couldn’t imagine that he was upset because the photos showed how much weight both he and Kate had put on. Neither of them looked well now compared to their more youthful image. Whereas, on the whole, time had been kind to everyone else. But Ted wasn’t the sort to be bothered by such things. It was possible that he was still in pain from his ankle, although he said not, and he had been out on the slopes today. Jayne could only imagine something dull, domestic and probably very minor had gone wrong. Wasn’t Fleur taking a flute or piano exam, or something or other? Perhaps she hadn’t fared as well as Ted had hoped she would. Ted and Kate were horribly ambitious for their children. That was just the sort of crisis her big brother had to deal with.

Jayne didn’t bother enquiring whether her guess was correct and whether a failed music exam, grade I, was the issue. She didn’t know how she’d fake interest in Ted’s response. Her brother was a lovely man, and normally she had a lot of time for him and his family, but, really, they didn’t know when they were well off.

She had very pressing issues of her own. She was desperate for some more champagne. The single bottle at dinner hadn’t gone far (how typical that Lloyd wouldn’t stretch to a second one). Admittedly, the wine at dinner had been good. She’d drunk plenty, almost too much. She normally avoided red wine – it stained her teeth and besides which it brought her down. Red wine wasn’t a party drink, and Jayne wanted to party. She oscillated between feeling nervy and excited, pessimistic and expectant. Why hadn’t Rich said or done anything about finishing with Tash yet? And why was Tash giggling and kissing Rich, smooching up to him despite Jayne’s conversations. On the other hand, Rich didn’t look exactly comfortable. Maybe he was just waiting for his moment.

Jayne didn’t know how to fill her evening. It wasn’t possible to flirt with Jase any more, and he’d made that patently clear. He’d been very monosyllabic with her all evening, almost rude. He’d spent his entire evening deep in conversation with Mia. Mia must have told him that she caught Rich and Jayne in a clinch. Or possibly Rich had come clean with Jason – they were, after all, best friends. Maybe Rich had admitted that he was in love with Jayne. Jase would have backed off immediately then. It was an encouraging thought. Jayne allowed the optimistic side of the pan scales to rise again. She felt like celebrating.

‘Come on, Teddy, how about some champers?’ she asked.

‘Why don’t you get the drinks in? I’ve bought all the drinks since we got here, except for those at dinner tonight, which Lloyd kindly bought. It must be someone else’s round. Yours, perhaps,’ spat back Ted.

The truth of Ted’s statement did nothing to alleviate the embarrassment caused by him making it. There was a thoughtful pause while everyone considered whether they had ever heard him speak so aggressively.

No. No one had.

How odd.

Kate put her hand on Ted’s arm and used her other hand to fish out their platinum Amex. She handed it to the barman and ordered three bottles of Veuve Clicquot. Her gesture was especially flamboyant, as she hoped to detract from Ted’s rudeness.

‘No.’ Ted snatched the card out of the bartender’s hand.

‘Ted, you are making a scene,’ hissed Kate.

‘Believe me, I’m avoiding one,’ he slurred.

‘Maybe we ought to have a kitty?’ suggested Tash.

‘What?’ asked Mia. ‘I don’t think that’s appropriate, Barbie Babe.’ Tash couldn’t see how it was as inappropriate as cadging drinks off Ted all holiday. She stared blankly at Mia. Mia elaborated, ‘It’s not as though we can’t afford to stand our own rounds, and I’ve always thought kitties were so lower middle class.’

Tash glared and was about to point out that no one did stand their own drinks when Jason interrupted. ‘Ted is right, you are a bunch of bloody freeloaders,’ he laughed, in an attempt to break the tension. ‘I’m stacked, I’ll pay.’

Jason would ask for a receipt anyway. Q&A, the agency which paid him his enormous salary, would no doubt see the bar tab on his expense sheet next week.

The bartender took Jase’s card and proceeded to open a bottle of champagne. He hadn’t even poured the second glass before Ted had swallowed back the first.

‘Steady, darling,’ said Kate.

Lloyd was extremely tense. He’d swear he heard the click as the pin was pulled from the grenade. ‘The snow was fantastic today. Best yet, I’d say,’ he offered.

The conversation quickly turned to who took the worst fall and made the best trick that day. With full glasses and the false confidence that they provide, Lloyd, Rich, Jason, Jayne and Tash began to relax into the evening. Mia was drinking water, but still felt buoyant, especially when Scaley Jase (who was drinking steadily and chatting merrily) waved her over to the dance floor. This was her moment.

Kate stayed with Ted and propped up the bar. She was becoming seriously concerned about his behaviour. She wondered if the painkillers the doctors had prescribed after his fall were having an effect on his mood. Perhaps the pharmacy had given Ted the wrong medication. It seemed unlikely, but there had to be an explanation as to why Ted was being so grumpy. Ted was generally a gregarious drunk, but this holiday he had been self-pitying and aggressive by turn. It simply wasn’t like him. He wasn’t being her big, cuddly Ted.

‘What’s the matter, darling?’ asked Kate.

She squeezed his arm and tried to catch his gaze. Ted glared at his empty champagne glass and would not look at his wife. Even the bubbles, normally a guaranteed thrill, a sure sign of good times, tasted flat and empty. Flat like his life, empty like his bank account. The analogy was a little pathetic, but Ted was too drunk to care. He wondered how he could force the descriptors ‘pointless’ and ‘ridiculous’ on to champagne, too, because they fitted his life. He gave up. He was too drunk to hold the train of thought long enough to finesse the analogy. Besides, he’d never been very good with words. He was good with numbers. Always had been.

And now, he was just a has-been.

‘Aren’t you enjoying yourself? Is it Jayne? Don’t worry, she’s fine. She seems to be getting on very well with both Tash and Rich. I honestly don’t think anyone minds that we brought her along.’ Ted didn’t respond. He didn’t seem to know Kate was there. She tugged harder on his arm. ‘Ted, you are scaring me. What’s up? It’s not the children, is it? They’re OK, aren’t they?’ Ted nodded. ‘Why were you mean about the champagne?’

‘I wasn’t mean. I’m just not the bank of fucking England,’ snapped Ted.

‘Ted.’ Kate’s remonstration was low-key. Although Jason, Rich and Lloyd swore as naturally and frequently as they inhaled and exhaled, her husband was usually a little more refined. Kate didn’t like cursing.

‘Do you love me, Kate?’ Ted turned to his wife, his eyes finally meeting hers. Haunted, hunted eyes. Eyes that she didn’t recognize.

‘Of course I do.’ Kate shifted uncomfortably.

What an odd question. Wasn’t it obvious? She looked over her shoulder to see if any of the others were listening. She hated scenes. No one was listening. Instead they were happily quaffing free champagne and dancing. Mia and Jase were arguing over the words of the latest Finlay Quaye track. They really seemed to find it impossible to agree on even the smallest thing, thought Kate. She turned back to Ted. Kate had drunk two glasses of wine at dinner and half a glass of champagne so far, a lot by her standard, and the music was loud so she couldn’t quite catch what Ted was saying. He was very pink. He’d put on a few pounds over Christmas.

‘– uined,’ he yelled.

‘Sorry?’ asked Kate, leaning her ear towards his mouth.

‘Ruined. We’re ruined,’ yelled Ted, finally desperate to be heard.

‘What’s ruined? Ted, stop being obscure. What do you mean?’

‘I’m trying to be very clear.’ He glared at his wife and slowly, with the careful deliberation of a drunk wanting to appear sober, Ted said, ‘We have no money. We have nothing. Only debts. I’ve lost my job.’

Some of his spittle hit Kate’s cheek, then he turned and abruptly left the bar.