Summer at Tiffany's (16 page)

Even before she saw him, she knew who it was and the hairs on the back of her neck bristled as she remembered the glimpse she'd caught of the face in the taxi in New York, composites of a knowing smile, sure hands, designer stubble and a gently mocking mouth flashing before her eyes.

She looked at Henry quickly, reflexively, but his eyes were already narrowed in concentration, and she felt her own pulse throb in her neck as she watched Henry try to place this man whom he had only ever seen once, via a Skype screen, when he'd been undressing her, the woman who was now his fiancée.

‘Luke,' Cassie managed, getting in first and determined to set a civilized tone. She was more than a little worried about what Henry might do when the penny dropped. The last time she'd spoken with Luke, things had descended into a fracas and he'd been laid out by her beloved friend Claude. ‘It's nice to see you.'

If he was amused or offended by her use of the word ‘nice', he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed nothing but happily surprised to see her, as though he recalled a different ending to their relationship than her. ‘What a coincidence seeing you here.'

‘Yes.'

‘How have you been?'

She nodded, almost wincing at the farce – small talk and platitudes glossing over his betrayal – her face impassive though the humiliation would remain forever fresh from finding the private snapshots he'd taken of her, black-and-white nudes, blown up and exhibited in the name of art at his latest photography exhibition during Paris Fashion Week.

‘So you know each other?' Beau asked, with studied interest.

‘Yeah. Cassie and I, uh . . .' Luke's eyes kept well away from Henry's, as did Cassie's. ‘We knew each other in New York. She lived there for a while, a couple of years back.'

‘Is that right?' Beau smiled, clearly smelling a rat.

‘Where are you living now?' Luke asked her.

‘Here. Well, London.' Couldn't he tell by looking at her? She'd been butter-blonde and black-clad in New York, a bobbed brunette in Paris. Surely her dark roots, almost nude face and Cath Kidston plimmies screamed, ‘London'? Then again . . . Her hands fiddled with the cotton of her ruffled apron, itself worn over the flimsy vintage dress. He must be wondering what on earth she was doing dressed as a 1940s waitress.

‘Right.'

There was a short pause as they searched for safe ground in front of the small crowd. It wasn't conversation that had been their forte.

‘And have you . . . seen Kelly or Bas recently?' he managed.

‘Bas was here this week, actually; he popped over after prepping for the couture shows in Paris.'

‘Right, right, yes, of course. It's nearly that time of year again.'

‘And you? Are you busy?' she asked back politely. As US
Vogue
's former star photographer, he was on a plane more often than in his apartment.

‘You know how it is. Same old. Five different countries in a week.'

‘And five different women in a week too, right, Luke?' Beau joked. Something in the way he kept his eyes on Cassie as he said it told her he was testing the waters. Luke shot him a withering look, but didn't reply. Henry, beside Cassie, was ominously still.

‘So, how do you two know each other?' Henry asked Beau.

Beau looked across at Luke. ‘Us? Oh, we've been kicking around in the same circles for years now, haven't we? Partners in crime. I scarcely remember how we met in the first instance.' He threw his arm round Luke's shoulder. ‘This guy's an incredible photographer. I mean really amazing. Have you seen any of his stuff?'

Henry paused. He had, of course, seen the ad campaign of Cassie that Luke had shot. ‘Not really.'

‘You should try to. I've got several of his pieces – one in my bedroom at home, in fact. I just can't take my eyes off it . . .' His eyes were on Cassie again, a dark shadow falling over the words, and she had to suppress a shiver.

‘But hey, if you and Cassie are old mates, you must have known these guys are engaged, right?' Beau asked, turning more towards Luke.

Luke's gaze darted straight back to Cassie. ‘No. I didn't.' Another pause, and then he thrust out his hand to Henry. ‘Well, congratulations. That's great news. You make a great couple. That's really great.' So great, apparently.

‘A reason to celebrate, methinks!' Beau shouted, raising an arm and hailing an order for more glasses.

‘Thanks, but we need to get back to work,' Henry said, a new stiffness in his voice.

Beau, who was clearly automatically going to cajole Henry to stay on, hesitated. Something in his old friend's voice seemed to warn him otherwise. ‘Sure, sure. Well, listen, it's been so great running into you like this. Stay in touch, yeah? I'll look you up when we get back. Let's get the girls together and go out for dinner. A foursome should be fun.'

Henry laughed, but the sound was hollow. Beau looked back at Cassie. ‘You're a great girl, Cass. I can see why my mates are so crazy about you.'

Mates? But before Cassie could correct him, he had stepped towards her and enveloped her in a bear hug, his lips against her ear as he kissed her cheek. ‘I
knew
I recognized you,' he whispered. ‘Like I said, Luke's damned good with a camera.'

Cassie froze as she realized what he was saying, but he just winked and turned away, leading the group towards a roped-off area that had white leather bench seating and black-suited security guards.

She looked up at Henry, not even sure where to start, but she took one look at his face and knew better than to even try. Together, they walked back to the Eat 'n' Mess bell tent in stony silence.

Kelly's long hair, which Gem so admired, swung out of range of the computer screen, falling back perfectly into place as Cassie drained her vodka and tonic.

‘It's just a rocky patch,' Kelly said soothingly, sipping her own vodka calmly as Cassie still reeled from her latest revelations. What a month it had been since their last virtual catch-up – Archie's heart attack, Luke's surprise appearance at the polo. Neither she nor Henry had mentioned him once since that day last week, but she sensed the invisible cord that tethered them to each other was vibrating slightly, like a telephone wire as a bird took flight, and it seemed to her that a new mannered tension had slipped into their behaviour as once-lingering kisses on mouths became hurried pecks on the cheek instead. They'd barely seen each other either, which hadn't helped. Henry was spending almost every day by Archie's bedside, and Cassie was in the throes of coming up with a new summer dessert menu for C et C, which entailed hours upon hours in the kitchen, black smoke wafting from the windows, as though a new pope still hadn't been agreed upon. And all the while, in the background, the thorny issue of making this month's rent was becoming harder to ignore.

‘What if it's not just a rocky patch, though? We seem to be bickering all the time at the moment – fine one minute, at each other's throats the next,' Cassie hiccuped, already quite drunk. She and Kelly always got drunk together on this, their designated monthly Skype lock-in – that was the rule; it was how they stayed connected, the boys making themselves scarce so that the girls could talk freely and with abandon. Usually Henry played fives with Arch before they went to the pub, but tonight he was ‘doing the late shift' and visiting him on the ward so that Suzy could put Velvet to bed on time. ‘What if—'

‘Stop right there, lady. A rocky patch is a good thing. You're not a real couple until you've actually survived something together. Hell, it's easy to be lovey-dovey in the good times. It's when the shit hits the fan that you know whether you're meant to be together or not.' She raised an eyebrow. ‘Has it crossed your mind at any point to walk away?'

‘Don't be daft!' Cassie laughed. The very idea was nonsensical.

‘Exactly. My point is proved. You're keepers. Everything's good. This is just a bump in the road.'

‘But there's been a lot of those recently – that's
my
point.'

‘Hey, who ever said the road had to be smooth?' A redlipsticked smile grew across Kelly's mouth. ‘God, Luke must have looked like he wanted to dive under the horses, though, didn't he?'

‘He didn't look very comfortable. He was exceedingly . . . polite.'

‘No doubt he was worried Henry was going to lamp him,' Kelly chuckled. ‘Good. It serves him right after what he did to you.'

Cassie sighed and looked down into her empty glass. She reached out of shot for the bottle and poured herself another drink, the tonic splashing on top messily. ‘Cheers,' she said, her voice ever so slightly slurred as she held up the glass.

‘Cheers,' Kelly said, matching the movement by holding up her glass and taking a deep swig. Too deep.

Cassie frowned as she drank hers. ‘Crikey, you've got a thirst on.'

‘Oh. Do I?'

‘Is that really vodka in there?'

‘Of course. What else would it be?' she laughed.

Cassie stared back at her suspiciously. Was it her imagination or had Kelly's laugh just then sounded forced? And she did seem unusually . . . blank tonight, her voice flat. ‘Prove it. Down it in one.'

Kelly arched one eyebrow but did as she was instructed, smacking her lips together triumphantly at the end.

‘I knew it!' Cassie exclaimed, peering closer at the screen. ‘It's water.'

‘It isn't!' Kelly protested with a laugh. ‘It's vodka tonic. I always drink this. You know I do.'

‘Yeah, and I also know there is no way you would have downed that if it had been vodka. You always pull a little face even after the smallest sip.'

‘No I don't.'

‘You so do. Look.' Cassie pulled an awkward, slightly strangled look that made Kelly gasp in horror.

‘I do not!'

Cassie nodded, laughing. ‘That's your vodka face.' She paused. ‘So I don't even want to
know
about your sex face,' she spluttered, making herself laugh, before pulling another comical expression that was a cross-eyed, jaw-stretched gurn.

Kelly gave a small shriek. ‘Oh yeah? Well, I bet yours is like this,' she cried, distorting her own face to Quasimodoesque proportions.

Cassie threw herself back on the sofa, her hands over her stomach as she laughed. She had definitely drunk too much, too fast tonight, but frankly, enough had happened in the last fortnight to drive a nun to drink. She hated that Arch was still in hospital, that Henry was unemployed and restless, that Beau Cooper had a picture of her, naked, in his bedroom, that Luke had looked good when she'd looked so ridiculous in her pinny . . . She deserved this night off.

Hang on . . .

She sat upright as she realized she had derailed herself with the sex-face joke. Why was Kelly drinking water? Surely there could only be one reason?

Her eyes scanned her old friend with new critical faculty – looking for bloating around the jaw, a flush in the cheeks, a secret in her eyes. Without saying a word, her hands covered her mouth. She didn't even need to ask.

‘What?' Kelly asked, panic in her voice. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?'

Cassie just shook her head, her hands still clamped over her mouth.

Kelly shook her head in turn. ‘No. I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. Plain wrong.' She picked up her glass again and held it towards the screen. ‘This is vodka. Lovely, cold vodka.'

Cassie's hands dropped down. ‘How far along are you?' Kelly rolled her eyes, shaking her head even more fervently as she looked away. She sighed. ‘I'm telling you you're wrong. I'm not . . . I'm not . . .' But the words wouldn't come and Cassie saw the ball of her jaw clench in profile. There was a short silence before Kelly looked back at her. ‘I'm not going to be pregnant for long.'

They were the words Cassie had predicted – and yet more besides. Too many. Cassie had been right
and
wrong?

‘What do you mean, for long?' The words were whispers as she inched closer to the screen.

Kelly's head dropped down as though she didn't have any strength. ‘No, I don't mean . . .' Her words ran out of power again and she rolled her lips together before finally looking back at Cassie. ‘This will be my fourth miscarriage.'

Cassie winced. Now it was the tenses that were confusing her. ‘
Will
be?'

‘I can't seem to carry past nine weeks.'

Cassie sat back as though she'd been punched. One of her closest friends had had not one but three miscarriages and Cassie – in spite of their monthly virtual lock-ins – had failed to notice? ‘When was the first?' Her voice vibrated with shock.

‘Just over a year ago.'

‘And the last?'

Kelly took a deep breath. ‘The week before you came to New York.'

Kelly's paleness, tiredness and quietness that night came back in a rush; she remembered how Brett had fallen over himself to keep the focus on her and Henry and their exciting new plans – the expedition! The engagement! – and not their own.

‘Oh, Kell,' she whispered, tears clouding her eyes. ‘Why didn't you say?'

‘We've deliberately not told anyone. It seemed easier to just . . . contain it to the two of us.'

Cassie shook her head, hating that she was drunk right now and Kelly wasn't, hating that her friend had carried on as normal when in fact tragedy kept washing into her life like a soiled tide.

‘Have the doctors identified why?'

‘There's no good reason they can find,' Kelly shrugged. ‘Too much stress, maybe. Caffeine? Sugar? Plain old bad luck? Who really knows?'

‘Does Nooks know?' Nooks and Kelly shared the sisterly closeness that bound Cassie and Suzy.

Kelly shook her head. ‘No one.' There was a small pause as she met Cassie's gaze. ‘Not even Brett, with this one.'