Beautiful Malice (14 page)

“I’m going out with Simon and Felix,” she calls out in a singsong voice, loud enough so that everyone around us can hear.

I laugh. “Okay,” I call back.

Alice and Felix and Simon head straight to the taxi stand and join the line of people waiting. Mick’s bike is parked just a little farther down the road, and we have to pass by them to reach it.

“Oooh, look, a cancan line,” Alice says loudly, peering down the length of the line. Some of the people waiting laugh. I hear someone else mutter a weary “Oh, for God’s sake, shut up.”

And then she starts kicking her legs out and singing the melody of the cancan. The two men beside her support her weight as she kicks higher and higher. Each kick reveals more of the top of her shapely thighs, her underpants.
“Nah nah, na-na-na-na, nah nah, na-na-na-na, nah nah,”
she sings, enjoying the attention, indifferent to the disapproving stares.

When a taxi arrives, Alice and her two new friends hop into the cab.

“Bye-bye, everyone,” she calls out to the crowd as the taxi pulls away from the curb. “Have fun. Bye-bye.”

“Who
is
she?” Mick asks, shaking his head, a bemused expression on his face.

“A friend of mine,” I say. And I wonder why I feel as if I’m lying.

27

“T
hat was so fun, Mommy. So fun.” Sarah looks up at me. Her cheeks and her nose are red with cold, but her eyes are bright. “Can I do it again? By myself this time?”

“Of course,” I say. And I watch her take the toboggan in one hand and trudge with determination back up to the top of the hill. It’s not a very steep hill, but it’s long enough to gain a bit of momentum on the way down. Sarah screamed all the way the first time, and I was worried that she was scared, but as it turned out she was screaming with delight.

I’d forgotten how heavy and slow I feel when dressed for the snow. I don’t enjoy the cold much; I’ve never particularly liked it. I prefer the weightlessness of summer. Winter makes me feel gloomy; it reminds me of death. But I don’t want Sarah to be influenced by what I do and don’t like. I want her to have her own impressions, make her own choices—and through her enthusiasm I get to feel some of the magic and wonder of this icy, cold world.

On her fourth or fifth ride down the hill, just when the skin on my face is starting to sting, just when I’m starting to think that I may have to use the lure of a hot chocolate to persuade Sarah that we need to take a break inside, I see him.

Robbie.

He’s standing at the bottom of the ski run. He’s wearing the bright blue jacket that all the instructors wear and demonstrating a stopping move to several onlookers. He looks just the same, still just as handsome. He laughs, tipping his head back in a way that is instantly familiar.

He’s standing so close I can see the clouds of freezing air coming from his mouth when he laughs. I can see the whiteness of his teeth, the veins on the backs of his bare hands.

It’s so shocking to see him that I can suddenly do nothing more than just stand there, motionless, my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t know whether I should call out to him, wave to get his attention. I wonder if I should rush away and pretend I didn’t see him, leave him in peace.

I decide just to continue with my day—not to make any special effort to approach him. If I bump into him again, I’ll let him decide how to handle it. I stand up and call out to Sarah, and she persuades me to take her for one more ride. And as I grab her hand and begin the climb back up to the top of the hill, I realize that Robbie has seen me. He is standing still, staring, his entire body rigid with the shock I, too, had felt only moments before.

28

“Y
ou can’t go.” Mick takes hold of my hand, pulls me back down toward his bed.

I sit beside him on the mattress, lean down, and kiss his lips, his stubbly cheek, his neck.

“I have to,” I say. “It’s Robbie’s birthday. I promised to take him to dinner. And anyway, I have to go back to Vivien’s and clean up a bit. The apartment’s a mess. I can’t leave it like that. She’d kill me.”

“But she’s in Europe, isn’t she? How will she even know?”

“She won’t. But I know, and it makes me feel bad.”

“But what’ll I do without you?” He pouts comically.

“Sleep.” I laugh. “You need to sleep.” Neither of us slept much the previous night, and Mick has another gig later that night.

“But I can’t. Not without you.”

“Of course you can. You
used
to sleep without me. You’ve done so for most of your life, in fact.”

“Really? I can’t remember. Anyway, that was before I knew the difference.” He pulls me down so that I’m lying on top of him, the duvet a barrier between our bodies.

“Mick,” I say. “Please. You don’t know how hard it is to go. You’re making it impossible. I’ll meet you at the gig later. After dinner. I won’t stay late.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay.” But when I lean down to kiss him he wraps his arms around me, holds me so tight I can’t move.

“It’s true, you know, what I said. I don’t know what I did before. Before you. I can’t remember what I cared about or looked forward to. Whatever it was, it’s gone now. All I care about now is you. It’s insane, really, kinda stupid. But I’ve never felt like this about any girl before. Nothing like it.”

And my heart swells with gladness, with the thrill of hearing that all my crazy feelings are reciprocated. I bury my face in his chest, hiding the sudden tears that are pricking at my eyes.

“Me, too,” I say. “Me, too.”

I go home. I work quickly, rushing from room to room, putting things away, dusting and vacuuming. It takes several hours, and when I’m done I check the phone messages and find one from Vivien saying that she’s arrived in Rome and is having a great time. There is also a message from my mother, just saying hello, and one from Robbie asking whether I still want to go out for dinner.

I call my parents first. I spoke to them very briefly the afternoon I finished my final exam, and though they’ve already congratulated me, I know that they’ll want more details, a longer conversation. I chat with Mom first and then Dad, and it takes almost an hour to give them the complete blow-by-blow of the exams they expect. They ask when I’ll next get a chance to come stay with them, and I tell them soon. I don’t mention Mick.

When I’ve finished talking to my parents, I call Robbie on his cell phone.

“Of course we’re still going out,” I say as soon as he answers. “It’s my birthday present to you, remember?”

“Okay.” He laughs. “Cool. But it’s probably just you and me tonight. I haven’t heard from Alice.”

“I get you all to myself, then. Lucky me.” I don’t say it, but I’m glad she’s not coming. I couldn’t stand to see Robbie and Alice together now that I know she’s seeing somebody else. It would make me feel complicit in her deception—I’d feel cruel and dishonest. The whole situation would be utterly humiliating for Robbie. I’m not entirely certain yet whether I want to tell him about Alice or not. I only know that I won’t do it tonight. Not on his birthday.

“And my dad’s organizing a party on Saturday night. Can you come? You and Mick?”

“Of course. We might be late, though. Mick has to play that night. But it would be fun. You can finally meet each other.”

“Can’t wait,” he says. But there’s not much enthusiasm in his voice. He sounds flat. Unhappy. I can only assume that his misery has something to do with Alice, and I wish, yet again, that he would just forget about her, give himself a chance to meet someone else.

We agree to meet at the restaurant at seven, then hang up. I choose the clothes I’m going to wear—jeans, boots, pink shirt—and run a hot, deep bath. I spend a long time in the water. I close my eyes and think about Mick and how lucky we are that we both like each other equally, how lucky we are that neither one of us is anything like Alice.

When I get to the restaurant, Robbie is already seated at a booth and has an almost empty drink in front of him. He is busy reading the menu and starts when I sit in front of him.

“Hi,” I say. “You must’ve been early?”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Starving. Couldn’t wait.”

We talk briefly about what we’ve been doing—I tell him more about Mick, and my new friendship with Philippa, and how happy I am—and he smiles and looks genuinely pleased and says he’s glad for me and that I deserve good things. And he’s relaxed and cheerful and I decide that maybe he’s going to be okay about Alice after all, and that her new affair might turn out to be a good thing. Finally, he’ll be forced to face the truth.

Robbie orders the food, and when it arrives the portions are much larger than we expected. We struggle to get through it all, giggling stupidly as Robbie puffs his cheeks full of air.

“This is ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head at the amount of food still left on the table. “There’s enough here for ten people.”

“I know.” I lift another slice of chicken with my fingers and put it in my mouth. “God, Robbie. I’m totally stuffed but I can’t stop eating. They need to come and take it away before I explode. I don’t think I’ll be able to move for another hour or so. You don’t mind sitting here all night, do you?”

And I look up at Robbie, expecting him to laugh and continue on with our playful banter, but he is staring straight past me, at something or someone behind me—and there is no longer any hint of humor in his eyes; instead, his face is stiff, contorted into an odd expression of confusion and fear.

I twist to look behind me and see nothing but tables full of unfamiliar faces. I turn back. “What is it?” I lean forward and put my hand on his. “Robbie? What’s wrong?”

But he’s ignoring me. He slides his hand out from under mine and stands. He pushes his chair back clumsily, leans heavily on the table for a moment, as if to gain strength, then staggers toward whatever it is he has been looking at, pushing people aside as if he doesn’t even see them.

“Robbie? What are you … Robbie!” I stand and follow him, feeling stupid and conspicuous in the crowded restaurant. I can’t figure out what’s happening; it’s as if Robbie suddenly can’t see or hear me, and I’m afraid that he may be having some kind of fit or seizure.

But then he stops right in front of some man at the bar. And the man smiles happily and reaches his arm out in welcome. Robbie’s face remains cold, his posture stiff, his manner strangely aggressive.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Robbie snarls viciously. “What are you trying to do to me? What are you doing with her? Where is she? Where’s she gone?”

The man’s eyes widen with surprise. “Where’s who, Robs?” he says. “What’s wrong with you? What are you talking about?”

“I just saw you together, Dad!” Robbie shouts—and I look closer at the man and now I recognize the eyes, his jawline. “You were kissing! I just saw her. With you. I fucking well
saw
you together.”

“Robbie.” I put my hand on his arm, try to calm him. “What …?”

But he shakes me off and leans in closer to his father. “I saw you with her. I
saw
you.” And though he is no longer shouting, his voice is full of anger, and he is so distressed and agitated that he is shaking.

But his father remains composed and looks at Robbie kindly. “Son, calm down. She’s just gone to the bathroom. You can meet her when she comes back. This isn’t a problem. You’re going to really like her.”

And I understand what has happened. Robbie has seen his father with a woman, his new girlfriend, for the first time. His anger is some kind of misplaced and inappropriate loyalty to his mother.

Robbie laughs bitterly—an unnatural and unhappy sound from somewhere deep in his throat—and gives his father a look of contempt. “Meet her? What do you mean,
meet
her? Is this meant to be some kind of twisted birthday present or something?”

I put my hand on Robbie’s back. “Come on, Robbie. Don’t do this. Please. Why don’t we just go back to our table? Leave your dad alone.” And Robbie’s father smiles up at me gratefully.

Then I see her. She is walking toward us from the bathroom. She is walking quickly, her head down, a small smile on her face, and for a brief, happily deluded moment I imagine that she’s there for Robbie—that she’s decided to turn up for his birthday after all. For a moment I’m even glad to see her, hoping that her presence may distract Robbie from this anger with his father.

But then Robbie and his dad turn and see Alice, too.

“Aha,” says Robbie’s father, his voice now full of forced enthusiasm. “Here’s Rachel now. I’ll introduce you.”

Rachel?
I think, bewildered.
Rachel?
And though I’m barely able to put my thoughts together, or comprehend what is happening, my subconscious mind seems to connect the dots for me—and in an instant I know exactly what she’s doing here, exactly who her mysterious older boyfriend is, and exactly what it is that Robbie has just seen.

At that moment Alice looks up. She stops walking and looks between Robbie and his father. The smile seeps from her face, and for the briefest instant she looks shocked, even scared, I think, as if she might turn and run. But she hesitates for only a moment, and then she flicks her hair from her face, stretches her lips into something resembling a smile, and continues forward.

Robbie’s father puts his hand on Alice’s arm and pulls her in beside him. Alice’s face is absolutely inscrutable—and though she’d looked shocked when she’d first seen us, she now looks perfectly comfortable—slightly amused, even—as if this whole situation is just a game and we are the toys.

“Robs, this is Rachel. Rachel, this is my son, Robbie.” Robbie’s father tries to behave as if everything is normal, but I can see that he is both confused and upset by what must seem like some very strange behavior from Robbie. He clearly has no idea who Alice really is.

Robbie doesn’t say a word, and makes no physical acknowledgment of his father’s words. He simply stares at Alice, his face so transformed by anger and hurt that it is barely recognizable.

“Oh, come on, Robbie,” Alice says. “Don’t look so serious. Where’s your sense of humor?”

Robbie’s father stares at Alice, and then Robbie, and back at Alice. The intimate tone of Alice’s voice has clearly confused him. “What? Do you two …?”

He doesn’t have time to finish his question. Robbie makes a horrible sobbing noise, turns, and rushes away.

“Robbie! Wait!” I start to follow him but quickly realize that I can’t catch him. And my purse is still at the table, and we haven’t paid for our meal. Reluctantly, I turn and head back toward Alice and Robbie’s father. I don’t want to stay here and face this horrendous situation. I would rather just get my purse and leave, head straight back home to Mick. I don’t want to speak to Alice. I don’t want to see her face, or hear her voice. I don’t want to hear Robbie’s father call her Rachel.

Robbie’s father looks shocked. His face is pale, his eyes wide and damp.

“What was that about?” he says as I approach. “Do you have any idea?”

I look at my feet, say nothing.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, and I can hear the tremor in his voice. “I’ve been extremely rude. We haven’t even met. You must be Katherine. Robbie’s told me all about you. I’m Greg. And this is Rachel.”

Greg and I shake hands, but I refuse to look at or otherwise acknowledge Alice. And when she speaks, I turn away.

“Maybe I should go,” she says.

“What an idiot I am,” says Greg. “I thought this would be a nice way for you two to meet. I knew Robbie was coming here tonight. I thought it might be nice to just … I dunno, pretend to bump into each other or something, meet each other casually. I had no idea he’d react like that, he’s usually such a great kid, it’s just … I’m sorry, Rachel, I should have told you.”

“No. Please. Don’t apologize,” she says, and her voice is odd. She sounds older, less impulsive than usual, and I’m amazed at how cleverly deceptive she is. But beneath the false maturity I can also hear the urgency and impatience in her voice. She can’t wait to get out of here. She has created this mess, and now all she wants to do is escape and leave me to clean it up. And I consider spitting out the truth before she has a chance to leave, forcing her to stay and confess and face the consequences, leaving the two of them to sort it out.
This isn’t my problem
, I tell myself. But I don’t trust her to be honest or fair to Greg, and none of this is his fault. He has been lied to, manipulated. He deserves an explanation.

“I’ll come with you,” he says to Alice.

“No, no,” she says. “I’d rather just go, to be honest. Be by myself for a while.”

I have to turn away as they say good-bye to each other. I can’t bear to watch Greg’s innocent tenderness toward her, his apologetic manner. And hearing him call her Rachel makes me want to scream.

When she has gone, Greg and I sit opposite each other. I am quiet and stare down at my hands. I don’t know how to begin, how to start breaking someone’s heart.

“I can’t believe it,” he says, breaking the silence. “Just when things were starting to go so well. It was probably an idiotic thing to do, setting them up like that, but Robbie can’t seriously expect that I’ll never …” He stops talking and turns to look wistfully at the doorway through which Alice has just left. He sighs. “I’ll probably never see Rachel again. Not after that.”

I feel anger rush through me. “Her name’s not Rachel.” And though I’m feeling almost sick with nerves, my voice is firm, stronger than I’d hoped.

“What?” He leans back in his seat, crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “What did you say?”

And so I tell him as much as I can, as quickly and as coherently as I can. He doesn’t believe me at first. He keeps shaking his head and saying, “No way, it’s just not possible,” but eventually he stops protesting.