Summer Nights at the Moonlight Hotel (27 page)

‘It’ll be because
Dirty Dancing
was on telly the other night,’ I reply. ‘It will have given her a surge of enthusiasm.’

Joe gives a quick sideways look at Will, but he’s not listening and, instead of joining in the banter, he just slips away.

‘How’s Cate?’ Joe asks, as soon as we’re alone.

‘She’s in a terrible state. It was her ex-boyfriend who posted the picture and she’s distraught. I’ve never seen her so low.’

‘How awful for her.’ He searches my face and seems to register how worried I look. ‘Impossible as it probably feels to Cate now, this will blow over, Lauren. I know people
gossip and – if you’re in the position she’s in – that’s horrible. I can’t imagine how horrible. But they’ll find something else to move on to sooner than
you think.’

‘I’m not sure I share your optimism,’ I reply. ‘And I don’t think Will is as understanding.’

Joe looks surprised by this statement. ‘Will hasn’t had the
chance
to be understanding. The first he knew of any of this was when he logged on to Facebook and saw the
picture on Cate’s timeline. Now she won’t return his calls.’

‘None of this is her fault. This is revenge porn.’

‘Of course it’s not her fault. This sort of thing is illegal and her ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’ I can’t exactly tell Joe why Robby very
probably will – because Cate’s terrified that if she kicks up a fuss, the other pictures will come out too. ‘How was your weekend apart from that?’ Joe continues.

I search for something to say that doesn’t involve the real headlines i.e. I battled with a urinary tract infection and had sex with Edwin.

‘Uneventful.’ And then I have to look away, for fear that if he gets to see my eyes for too long, all my thoughts will unravel in front of us.

How I wished it had been him kissing me on Saturday night. How I wished it had been his skin against mine, his bed I woke up in. I cannot fully express how hideous these thoughts make me feel,
especially when Emily turns up, breathless and slightly late.

It strikes me as the class begins, and Emily dances by my side, that I’d always considered myself to be a good person. A good friend. But if I was either of those things, the thoughts that
keep infiltrating my head wouldn’t exist in even the most fleeting form.

Yet, despite my feelings, I’m still determined to be the person I
want
to be. So when Joe addresses me in conversation, even in the most innocuous manner, I answer him politely
but move on and talk to someone else.

The only problem with this tactic, of course, is that my acting skills have never progressed from when I was four years old and starred as a sheep in the school nativity play. And I feel certain
that Emily notices. She’s in a very odd mood tonight. Part of me worries that that is because she’s on to me. She’s guessed that I’m falling for her boyfriend.

‘All right?’ I ask, when we line up. But if I’m seeking reassurance from Emily, I don’t get it. ‘You seem a little tense.’

‘Well, I’m worried about Cate,’ she says stiffly. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘Of course,’ I reply, surprised and slightly defensive as I was the one who raced round there tonight.

‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I didn’t mean to imply . . . oh, I’m a bit wound up about what I’ve just heard Marion saying in the loos about Cate. I quote,
“Anyone who’s stupid enough to have a photo taken like that gets all they deserve” and “Never appear in any photograph you wouldn’t be happy for your grandmother to
see”. Must be nice to be as pure as the driven snow, mustn’t it?’

‘What a cow.’ I scrutinise her face. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘It’s just been a tough day – and I’m not feeling great.’

‘Really? What’s up?’ It strikes me that she is looking tired. Still her beautiful self – but her skin is a little sallow, and she’s thinner than usual. Not that she
had much weight to lose in the first place.

‘I think I’m coming down with something. Apart from that, everything’s fine. Thanks, Lauren. I’m just glad I’ve got Joe,’ she says, holding my gaze for the
last sentence.

Yet, even Joe isn’t enough to persuade Emily to stay for longer than twenty minutes. By the break, the class has started to feel like the
Marie Celeste
– no Cate, no Stella,
and now Emily’s disappearing early too, telling me that she just wants to go home and have a bath. She nips over to kiss Joe on the cheek and then disappears out of the restaurant.

And so we’re left to Marion’s technical melt-down: every time she tries to put on some salsa classic tonight, her music system blurts out a rousing rendition of the Can-Can –
and as much as I’m enjoying these classes generally these days, I draw the line at that.

I studiously try to avoid Joe. Being around him and falling to pieces somehow feels even more treacherous when Emily isn’t here than when she is. So when Marion launches into a practice of
a turn, I dive towards Frank and grab his hands. Then when she asks us for a volunteer for a new step, I scour the room and spot Esteban, who is looking distinctly miserable since Jilly stopped
coming so she could attend a karate class instead. I reach for him with such certainty that I manage to get my bracelet, which is one of my favourites, tangled up in his arm hair, forcing the two
of us to dance our way under a lamp to remove it without giving him a full wax job.

When the class is finished, I leave immediately, anxious to get to my car and go home. My Mini, however, has other ideas. I put the key in the ignition and am rewarded with a noise that sounds
like a defective combine-harvester.

A bang on the passenger side of the car makes me start. I look up to see Lulu staring through it – then wind down the window to talk to her.

‘That sounds bloody awful,’ she points out, and I really can’t argue with her. ‘I wouldn’t try to drive that, Lauren. Are you in the AA?’

My heart sinks. ‘I cancelled it because I’m going to Singapore. Oh God, I’m going to have to get a taxi.’

‘I’d give you a lift if I could, but I’ve walked here tonight.’ She looks up in the direction of the restaurant. ‘Someone else’ll help, I’m sure. Let me
go and ask who’s going in your direction.’

‘Lulu,’ I blurt out, stopping her in her tracks. ‘Can I ask you something? In confidence?’

She leans into the window of the car. ‘Of course. What is it?’

I hesitate, wondering if there’s an easy way of putting this. ‘You know . . . Mike?’

Just the mention of his name makes her freeze. ‘Yes?’

‘Stella found a text from you on his phone. And she felt a little uncomfortable about it. So she apparently confronted Mike and—’

‘Are you telling me Stella
knows
?’ she asks, her eyes wide. ‘About what Mike and I have been up to?’

I swallow. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Shit,’ she says, standing up and running her hand through her hair. ‘Who else knows?’

‘Just me. Sorry,’ I repeat, wondering why
I’m
apologising. ‘Has it been . . . going on a while? You and him, I mean?’

‘He started the lessons about a week after he gave up here.’

‘Lessons?’ I venture.

She sighs. ‘Do not tell a soul, Lauren, please. Least of all Stella. It’d ruin everything.’

‘Tell a soul
what
?’

She leans so far into the window that now I’m concerned she’s going to fall in. ‘I’m giving Mike private dance lessons – for his first dance at the wedding.
He’s learning exactly the same routine you guys have been working on. But it
has
to be a secret or it will ruin everything.’

‘You’re not having an affair with him then?’

She starts spluttering as if she’s got something down her throat and needs a sturdy Heimlich manoeuvre. ‘Of course not! Mike’s not going to be having an affair when he’s
getting married in a few weeks!’

‘Unfortunately, that’s what Stella suspects.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding? Why would she still be marrying him if she suspected that?’

‘Because she hasn’t got proof. And because she loves him. And she’s already paid for a four-tier fruit cake and a Jenny Packham dress.’

Lulu looks horrified.

‘I think she just hopes she’s wrong,’ I continue.

‘She
is
wrong!’

‘Well, she’ll be very glad to hear it,’ I conclude.

Lulu throws me a stern look. ‘Lauren, you can’t tell her. You absolutely cannot.’

‘Someone’s got to,’ I argue.

She narrows her eyes on me. ‘Swear to me.’

‘But, Lulu, it has seriously occurred to Stella that her future husband is having an affair. Surely that’s more important.’

‘She can’t really think that,’ she says dismissively. ‘Mike obviously doesn’t think so and he’s the one who’s paid all this money and put every spare
minute into rehearsing. DO NOT ruin this for him, Lauren. He’d be devastated.’

I look up and see Joe and Will walking down the hill towards us.

‘Everything all right, ladies?’ Joe asks.

I’m about to say that my car has broken down but stop myself from revealing this in case he offers me a lift. ‘Fine!’

‘Apart from your breakdown,’ says Lulu.

‘Oh, I’m sure it’ll start in a minute.’

‘Go on, give it a go while we’re here. We can’t just abandon you,’ Joe says. I reluctantly sit back in the car, turning the key and praying that the engine starts.
‘I’ll get a taxi,’ I mumble.

‘No need. I’ll give you a lift,’ Joe says decisively.

‘No! It’s fine. I really don’t mind.’

‘Neither do I. Come on. I’m only parked over here.’

I rack my brains to think of an inoffensive way to break it to Joe that I want to be a million miles away from him, when he adds, ‘I’m taking Will too.’

It occurs to me that if Will’s there it’ll all be OK. ‘Well, all right then. Thanks,’ I reply, stepping out of the car and wondering how much of this pressure I can
take.

There is an elephant in this Range Rover and it’s called Cate. Throughout the journey, I keep waiting for Will to mention her again, but he is resolutely silent on the
issue. Which means I have to think of something else to talk about. Anything.

‘Have you seen they’re opening a new restaurant in Hawkshead? Apparently they’ve got some Michelin-starred chef up from London. Problem is, they seem to be two a penny around
here these days. It wasn’t like that when I was a little girl, I can tell you. The food was all right, but I don’t remember ever going to a gastro-pub. My dad used to take us to a place
in Grasmere, but it wasn’t really the done thing in those days to take kids into a pub. I don’t even think children’s menus had been invented.’

‘You must be
very
old, Lauren,’ Joe quips.

‘Thanks for that,’ I reply.

‘Well, there’ll be a kids’ menu at the Moonlight Hotel, I assure you,’ he says. ‘It looks fantastic: homemade fish goujons, fruit kebabs and mocktails.’

‘I thought you were going for somewhere really upmarket,’ I reply.

‘Even The Ritz has a children’s menu,’ he tells me, then hesitates. ‘I think.’

‘Do you actually know what you’re doing with this hotel?’ I can’t resist asking.

‘I’ve got a very good project manager. Gianni won’t let me down. He’s worked in all my dad’s hotels over the years – he’s fantastic.’

Will turns round and looks at me. ‘You need to go and see the Moonlight Hotel, Lauren.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I reply.

‘Well, I think you should reconsider,’ he says. ‘I’ve seen it every step of the way, right from the first time we were due to have a meeting there and ended up at this
salsa class.’

‘Why were
you
at the meeting, Will?’

‘I just wanted an outsider’s view of the place,’ Joe explains.

‘You might be surprised if you go and see it,’ Will adds.

‘I don’t
want
to see it,’ I snap. ‘And I’m very happy to remain
un-
surprised.’

The car slows and Will unplugs his seatbelt.

‘Cheers, pal,’ Joe says, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘Have a good one.’

‘You too, and thanks for the lift.’ Then Will turns to me and looks at me, and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to ask me anything about Cate. ‘Good night, Lauren. See
you next week.’

And then I’m left in the car, alone with Joe, and wondering how I’m going to stop my heart from leaping right out of my chest.

I absolutely refuse to turn and look at him. Even though I’m dying to. Even though my neck muscles are on springs, pulling me in his direction. Instead, I snatch glances
at the way his big, tanned hands move against the gear-stick, the way his thighs press against the seat and his muscles flex when he changes gear.

The chat revolves firmly around tonight’s dancing and, although the conversation isn’t forced, the journey seems to take for ever. I realise that the only thing that will stop my
head throbbing with unwanted thoughts is to be away from him, in the comfort of my own bed, trying my best to focus on Edwin – who is now mine for the taking, after I’ve apparently
worked the sort of bedroom skills that should take six months’ intensive training under Madame Sin.

The more I talk, the more I panic that Joe suspects my dark secret, that my toxic attraction to him is written all over my face. My only tactic is to try and deflect attention from it.

‘You and Emily make a fantastic couple,’ I declare, as if I’m Len Goodman assessing their Rumba. ‘You’re so good together. I’m thrilled she’s found
someone like you. You’re
so
well-suited!’ I glance up, as we turn up the hill and I see that he’s taken a diversion.

‘Joe, this is the wrong way.’ He doesn’t answer and my heart trebles in speed. ‘You’ve taken the wrong road.’

‘Have I?’ He looks at me sideways and concedes a half-smile.

‘This is starting to feel like a scene from a movie in which I end up chopped into little pieces, put in a bin bag and thrown into a lake.’

He looks again, unnerved by this statement. ‘Sorry. But I absolutely promise I’m not going to murder you. Or chop you up into little pieces. You have my word.’

‘Great. Because axe murderers are trustworthy like that. So where are we going?’