The Shoestring Club (32 page)

‘Shut up, Jules. You’re not funny.’ Pandora looks almost in tears. Oops, clearly something is going on.

‘What happened?’ I ask, softening my tone. ‘Please don’t tell me you guys broke up? I’ve booked him for next Saturday, remember? And that would make things very awkward.’ I’ve asked him to accompany me to the wedding – just the church bit – to keep everyone guessing. The wedding breakfast I’ll have to brave on my own. It was Pandora’s idea originally and he does look amazing in a tux.

‘No, we haven’t broken up. And yes, it’s in his diary. But I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

‘Come on, sis. Maybe I can help.’

She gives a wry laugh. ‘As if.’

‘Hey, that’s a bit unfair.’

‘Sorry, you’re right.’ She picks at a hangnail and then sighs. ‘He’s having dinner with his ex-wife. Just the two of them. He says it’s the only way he can get her to talk to him in a civil manner. But she’s booked The Rosewood, Jules. No one books The Rosewood for civil chats.’

She’s right. It’s mega expensive, with comfy booths, intimate lighting, and a churchload of candles. It’s notorious for hosting foreign rock stars who want to dine incognito, and people having affairs.

‘He didn’t book it though, did he?’ I say, trying to cushion the blow.

‘No, and he swears he’s not interested in her any more, but they were married for ten years, it has to count for something.’

‘I’m sure it’ll all be fine, he’s mad about you.’

‘Thanks. And I’m sorry for being short with you. But you do need to move your bike.’ She gives a deep, jaw cracking yawn. ‘I’m going to bed now, I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘It’s only eight.’

‘I know, sad isn’t it? I’m exhausted. I’ll read for a while if I can’t sleep. See you in the morning, Jules.’ She kisses me on the cheek.

‘Sleep well,’ I say. ‘And try not to worry.’

As she climbs the stairs, I open the front door and take my bike back outside. I check my pocket for my keys, shut the door behind me, grab the handlebars and scoot around the side of the house. But as I reach the oak tree, I stop suddenly. There’s a familiar dot of light in the tree-house window. My stomach lurches. Not again.

For a few long minutes I stand underneath the tree house. Unless Jamie’s taken up smoking which is highly unlikely, it’s Ed. My head is telling me to dump my bike and get the hell out of there – run inside, shut the door tight and wait for Ed to go away. But my heart is telling me something completely different. Because even after everything he’s done – ignoring me for weeks, hitching his wagon to my best friend behind my back, telling me I was wrong for him all the time, that it’s Lainey he wants, not me – there’s still a tiny part of me that craves his love and attention. I know it’s not logical, and I know it’s self-destructive, but I can’t deny the hold he has over me. I know I should just walk away, but Ed is my fatal attraction.

While I’m dithering about what to do, he appears at the tree-house door.

‘Thought I heard something. Don’t just stand there, Jules, come on up. Toast my last week of freedom.’ He waves a glass in the air. This time it’s real, not plastic.

‘Keep your voice down,’ I hiss up at him. ‘You’ll wake Pandora and Iris.’

He laughs. ‘Come on, even your boring sister can’t go to bed this early.’

I feel my skin prickle. I know Pandora is a bit of an old granny at times, but boring is unfair.

‘Her new boyfriend’s tiring her out,’ I say in her defence.

‘Boyfriend?’ He sounds genuinely surprised.

‘Yes, Declan. He’s mad about her, thinks she’s amazing.’

‘Some sort of accountant is he? He’d need to be to find Pandora exciting.’

‘Don’t be so snide. He’s an architect if you must know.’

He laughs. ‘I hope it works out for her and they have lots of carefully designed children together. Look, quit procrastinating and get up here, woman.’

I stand my ground. ‘No.’

‘Jules, stop being stubborn. You know you want to.’

‘Just go. Lainey would have a hissy fit if she knew you were here.’

‘She’s not going to find out, is she? I made sure I wasn’t being followed this time. Come on, one drink isn’t going to kill you. And I promise I’ll behave. Or I could sing to you if you like.’ He starts singing the chorus of ‘Lucky’, an old Jason Mraz song he always used to sing to me. It’s about being in love with your best friend.

‘Stop! Pandora will hear you.’

He continues singing, even louder.

‘Ed! I’m warning you.’

But he doesn’t stop. So I abandon my bike, pick up a stick and chuck it at him.

He bats it away with his hand. ‘Temper, temper.’ Then he starts singing again.

‘Fine,’ I snap. ‘If you shut your mouth, I’ll come up. Satisfied?’

He stops instantly and grins. ‘Very.’

I step over one of Bird’s leaf piles – she’s been raking her precious grass again – and climb up the ladder. He holds out his hand at the top and pulls me onto the tree-house platform. For a couple of seconds we stand there, staring at each other, Ed still holding my hand, his skin warm against mine, before I shake my hand away, duck my head and walk inside.

He’s lit the storm lantern and some of the tealight holders. The air smells strange, slightly salty and acidic, then I spot a greasy brown bag.

I swing around and stare at him. ‘Have you been eating chips up here? It stinks.’

He just shrugs. ‘I was hungry.’ He flops down on the mattress and pats it. ‘I’ve kept a place for you.’

I linger for a minute, the logical part of my brain begging me not to, the emotional, needy part trying to win me over. Needy wins and I sit down beside him. ‘No funny business, OK?’ I say.

He chuckles. ‘’Course not, Jules. I’m practically a married man, remember? Just wanted to say goodbye properly. Once Lainey has that ring on my finger, my footloose days are over. She’ll probably have me filling out time sheets to account for my every step.’

‘And she’d be right not to trust you.’

He pouts. ‘Ouch! That’s most unfair.’

‘Really? So she’d be delighted to know exactly where you are at this exact moment, would she? How about I tell her?’ I pull out my mobile.

He just smiles at me. ‘You wouldn’t do that to me, Jules. You’re a big softie underneath it all.’ He picks up the open bottle of champagne and pours me a glass. He holds it towards me.

I hesitate. I know I shouldn’t take it, especially after Bird’s recent tirade. But I can already feel the bubbles breaking over my tongue and the sweet surge of alcohol in my system. I don’t just need a drink, I
want
a drink so badly it hurts. Just one glass, I tell myself, taking it out of his hand. Besides, it’s medicinal, it will make talking to Ed easier.

‘Champagne?’ I say. ‘My, we have gone up in the world. Don’t mind if I do.’ I take a long swig, downing half the glass in one go, then splutter and cough a little as bubbles race up my nose.

He pats me on the back and then tops up my glass again. ‘Watch those bubbles, Jules, they’re lethal.’

I lie back against the cushions and relax as the familiar rush makes my insides tingle.

I tip my glass against his. ‘To your impending marriage and my impending . . .’ I pause, not knowing quite what to say. I don’t have a huge amount to look forward to at the moment, so I just let the end of the sentence hang.

‘Kiss,’ Ed says gently, and moves towards me.

I put my hand up and push him away.

‘Ed! You promised.’

‘Oh, come on, Jules, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a kiss. No one will ever know.’

‘I’ll know. How can I stand there watching you take your wedding vows, promising to be faithful to Lainey for the rest of your life, when I know it’s all a lie?’

‘It’ll be different once we’re actually married. And I will do my best to be faithful.’

I stare at him. ‘Do your best? That’s pathetic.’

He shrugs. ‘I’m just being honest. What happens if Lainey balloons after having kids, or goes off sex or something?’

‘Then you’ll just have to deal with it. Not go off and find some slapper who is happy to overlook the fact that you’re wearing a wedding band.’

He gives a dry laugh. ‘You’re such a romantic, Jules. Everyone has affairs, it’s part of life. And stop being so high and mighty. You didn’t push me away a few weeks ago, did you? I seem to remember we had a rather passionate snog.’

I can feel my cheeks flame. ‘That was a mistake. You don’t deserve Lainey. She’s devoted to you. We may not be close any more, but I still care about her. I have a good mind to tell her exactly what you’ve just said.’

His eyebrows arch. ‘Why? She knows what I’m like but, unlike you, she accepts me for what I am. She seems happy enough to turn a blind eye when she wants to. And she’s hardly a saint herself is she? Coming on to her best friend’s guy?’

My back stiffens. I know he’s right, but I can’t stand his smug, self-satisfied expression any more. Suddenly the scales fall off my eyes. Ed Powers is a pig. I can’t believe I’ve wasted so much time thinking about him, worrying about him, loving him. Because that’s exactly what it was – a waste. I’ve been such a fool. I grab the champagne bottle and take a long swig, then another, until eventually the whole bottle is empty. Then, feeling a little queasy, I stand up.

‘I’ll see you at the wedding, Ed. Not before and certainly not after. We’re finished. I have no idea what I ever saw in you.’

I step towards the door, duck under and turn around at the top of the platform to climb back down the rope ladder. He follows me and grabs my arm.

‘Don’t go, Jules. I’m sorry, I know I’m a bit of a cynic when it comes to marriage. But I’m just trying to be realistic. Plus I’m freaking out and it’s the only way I can cope with the whole concept of getting hitched. Stay, please. For old times’ sake.’

‘Ed, this is getting boring. Please let go of my arm.’ I try to pull it away but he’s holding tight. I push my free hand against him, but it unbalances me. I stumble and feel myself falling backwards.

‘Jules!’

For a split second I hear Ed shouting and then – nothing.

I open my eyes and wince as bright light hits my pupils. My head feels like it’s been thumped with a sledge hammer. I swallow down some vomit, my eyes watering from the burning acidic taste in my throat. My arms are heavy, I try to move them but they seem to be pinned down. There’s some sort of mask over my mouth and I shake my head a little to dislodge it, but it makes my neck hurt so I stop.

‘Thank God,’ I hear a voice say. ‘She’s awake.’ It sounds remarkably like Pandora.

A strange woman in a paramedic’s uniform removes the mask and says, ‘Take it easy now, and try not to move. You had a nasty fall. We’re taking you to St Vincent’s Hospital.’

‘Fall?’ For a second I don’t understand. Then it all comes back to me in a rush. The tree house. I slipped off the platform. I gasp and try to sit up again, making my whole body hurt.

Pandora appears, leaning over me, her face pale. ‘You’re all right, Boolie, lie back now, take it easy. Everything’s going to be fine.’

‘What’s wrong with me?’ I say. ‘Am I broken?’

She gives a breathy laugh. ‘No, Boolie, you’re not broken. You got knocked out but the ambulance crew think it’s just bad concussion. You had a lucky escape, fell on one of Bird’s leaf piles. But I have to ask, were you drinking? Your eyes look a bit unfocused and your breath smells funny.’

I give a tiny nod and whisper, ‘Yes. Champagne.’

‘And what were you doing up there with Ed Powers?’

‘I’m sorry, she needs to rest now,’ the paramedic says, putting her hand on Pandora’s arm. ‘And you must put on your seatbelt.’

‘Sorry,’ Pandora says, and then I hear a loud click. Pandora must have buckled herself back into her seat.

The woman pats my shoulder kindly. ‘Nearly there now.’

I lie still and think about what Pandora’s just said. What
was
I doing in the tree house with Ed? My first and correct instinct was to tell him to go to hell. And if it hadn’t been for Bird’s leaves who knows what might have happened. Why did I down all that champagne? To stop Ed’s words hurting me? To numb the pain? The disappointment of wasting so much time and energy on him? Or simply because I just wanted a drink? Because that would be the saddest answer of all. My eyes well up again and I blink away the tears.

I hear Pandora’s voice say, ‘Don’t cry, sweetie. I’m here and I won’t leave your side, I promise.’

Which only makes me cry even harder.

Several hours later, after a doctor has checked me thoroughly in the A and E and I’ve finally been allocated a bed; I’m in a hospital ward in one of those flappy at the back hospital gowns, still feeling a bit groggy. I can’t make out if it’s the concussion or the lingering after-effects of the champagne. Probably both. Pandora’s sitting beside my bed, flicking through a magazine. Every so often a nurse comes to take my temperature and check my pupils, but apart from that we’re left pretty much alone.

I’m the only person under sixty on the ward and the woman beside me has been snoring away ever since I climbed into the bed. Now and again she stops, and I look over, worried she’s stopped breathing, but then off she goes again, like the local fog horn.