Joanne Sefton Book 2

He’d heard about the Valentine’s card. Of course, he had; the video got something like seventeen hundred hits. But he’d come up to Tash a few days afterwards to tell her that he’d had a word with Lola. Apparently, he let her know that he and Tash had been mates for years and she should lay off. All of which would have had zero impact other than making him feel like he’d earned some brownie points … except that two days after that he actually asked her to go out with him.

It wasn’t like when they were in first or second year and (after lots of pushing from the girls) a boy would say ‘will you go out with me?’ to one of the girls and if she said yes everyone would start saying that they were boyfriend and girlfriend. So, he didn’t ask her out to be his girlfriend, but he did ask her out to an actual thing. It was a band showcase. One of the local pubs was putting it on and it was open to sixteens and up so the door policy wasn’t as strict as it usually would be.

She had a bit of a panic in case they asked for ID, because she wasn’t going to be sixteen until July. But the doorman wasn’t really fussed. Stanno got one of his mates to get her a vodka and lemonade, but she wasn’t really that keen on it, plus she’d just started the dieting thing so she only sipped it and stirred the ice around until it melted. They stood around in a group, unable to chat much because of the noise of the bands. But Stanno had his arms around her shoulders the whole time and Lola and her mates were shooting her these looks like they couldn’t decide whether they hated her or suddenly wanted to be besties with her.

Then, at the end, Stanno walked her home and they had a quick kiss in the street. It wasn’t like it was her first kiss or anything, but it felt more grown-up than anything she’d done before. His lips were soft and dry and he smelt of stale lager. When Tash got home her phone pinged with an invitation from Lola to join the Panda Eyes WhatsApp group, which, for some unknown reason, is what Lola had called the group that only had about twenty of the most popular girls in it.

Best of all, Stanno and Tash had become a thing. They went out most weekends on their own or with friends, and hung around together at school when he wasn’t playing football. Tash was working on her history teacher to let her sit next to him. It was just a shame he wasn’t in Maths too. They were getting better at kissing – well, it felt that way to Tash anyway. Stanno was an only child with a room in the attic, so they could mess around a bit when she went over to his house. It wasn’t like at home where there was always someone around just waiting for a chance to catch you out.

The party would be the first time he’d really spent any time at her house. The first time he’d met her sisters, or her mum (not that Tash was bothered what her mum made of him). So maybe the party wouldn’t be totally hideous after all.

Chapter 9 (#ulink_089ba7b0-c724-5824-b01c-d48ff55be5b8)

Misty

2019

The call from Andrew Dyer had been a shock, but not a huge one. They’d kept in touch a little over the years, mainly through mutual college friends from the old music crowd. He had been asking her to come to Karen Neville’s fiftieth.

‘I don’t think so, Andrew, I’ve not spoken to Karen since we were at Cambridge.’

‘Exactly, it would be nice for you to see each other again.’

‘Or maybe not.’

‘Well, you might both get a pleasant surprise. And if it doesn’t work out, we can just leave and go to the pub. Is Eusebio around? What else would you be doing?’

Knowingly or not, he’d hit on her weak spot. Her Costa Rican partner, Eusebio, was due to return from one of his lengthy photographic expeditions into the Amazonian jungle. While he was away, she could expect nothing more than a couple of ten-minute sat-phone calls a week. Now he would be ensconced in front of his computer, sorting and editing the images, fulfilling his various commissions and hustling for sales. The low-maintenance relationship suited her because it didn’t interfere with her drive to devote herself to the clinic.

As friends had settled, had families and moved to the suburbs or away from London altogether, both the pressure and opportunity to engage in much of a social life had declined. The chances of her being busy on any given Saturday with anything other than a weekend on-call duty were minimal. Even if she had been on call, she’d taken on so many extra shifts from junior colleagues over the years, she wouldn’t have struggled to find someone who owed her a swap.

‘Eusebio’s due back that week, but we don’t have any plans yet …’

‘Exactly. Bring him along then. It starts at half two. Meet me at Twickenham station around three, there’s a good coffee place – I’ll send you a link – and the three of us can walk over to Karen’s together.’

Now it was only a couple of hours before Andrew would be waiting for them at the café. She sighed, wafting two dresses on coat hangers in front of the mirror. It was impossible to summon the enthusiasm to actually try them on. The bedroom door creaked open and Eusebio slunk in, unshaven and still in the joggers and T-shirt he had pulled on when he got out of bed.

‘Well, what do you think?’

‘The red one. The colour suits you more, and the dress give you more … oomph.’ He mimed uplift in his chest region, and she couldn’t help but smile. That was one benefit of living with a Costa Rican – in her experience there were few British men who would commit to an opinion on an outfit, even fewer with the frankness and (she had to admit) accuracy that Eusebio generally managed.

‘You’ll have to get a move on.’ She nodded towards the linen suit that was hanging on the wardrobe door. ‘We should be leaving in half an hour.’

His shifty look told her what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

‘I’m not so sure, cariña. I’m already late getting the proof shots back to Marco and the jet lag is really killing me at the moment.’

‘But you said you’d come. That’s part of the reason you flew back yesterday.’

He shrugged. ‘You go. There is no reason for you not to have fun with your friends because I am a miserable old grump-head. Wear the red dress. Have some fun.’

‘But they’re not my friends, that’s the point. I’m hardly going to know anyone.’ She could hear the irritation creep into her voice, and knew he must hear it too. But Eusebio was an expert at refusing to take the bait. He simply shrugged again, more cheerfully this time, and flopped down to sit on the bed.

‘Then where is the problem? If they are not your friends, don’t go see them! I’m going to email Marco and go back to bed.’ He stroked the duvet cover and put on an exaggerated smoulder. ‘Would be better with you here too.’

She shut her eyes briefly and then turned back to the mirror. He’d promised to come. There was no point in rising to it, though, she’d simply get more and more wound up whilst he could keep up his ‘what’s the problem?’ insouciance indefinitely. Sometimes it was like living with a fourteen-year-old.

Still, it wasn’t like she hadn’t dealt with all of this for years. He put up with her erratic hours, her obsessing over patients and her stress. She put up with his … well, let’s say individualism, even if it did drive her bloody mental at times. And of course, he was right about the dress. She dug out a bra that would give her enough support to allow the dress to pull off its magic and wriggled into her outfit before getting started on some make-up. Tempting though it might be to use Eusebio as an excuse to give the whole thing a miss, she’d promised Andrew she would come and she hated the thought of being flaky. She squirted some perfume then went downstairs to pull on her heels and pick up the bouquet that she’d bought that morning.

‘See you later!’

‘Have fun!’

Normal couples probably shared more affectionate goodbyes. But then normal couples would be going to the sodding party together.

*

The house was almost exactly as she’d imagined. A Victorian villa, high walls and an immaculate gravel drive giving little away to the outside world. Today, though, the large wooden gates were open and a posy of balloons above an artfully makeshift wooden arrow sign directed guests down the side of the house to the party in the back garden.

‘Sounds busy,’ observed Andrew.

Misty nodded her agreement. A hubbub of noise was already bubbling down the side passageway, and the street had been jam-packed with parked cars.

A substantial-looking marquee loomed at the far end of the garden, which presumably explained why Karen had felt able to risk organising a garden party for the first weekend of April. As it turned out, the gamble had paid off. After a week of fine weather, the garden was dry and the carefully tended beds brimming with spring bulbs. Guests milled around, visibly thrilled to be outside in the first really decent weather of the year. The sides of the marquee itself were rolled up and Misty could make out the shadowy shape of tables and what appeared to be a bar. Beyond a handful of people waiting for drinks, though, the interior was deserted.

A young girl who looked moody and overheated in black jeans and Doc Martens offered her a glass of something fizzy. Andrew had filled her in on the basic details of Karen’s children. The daughters were presumably being pressed into waitress service. He also reminded her about the death of her husband. Misty remembered being told something of it at the time, although she couldn’t say by whom. Sipping the drink, she smiled despite herself; you couldn’t get away from the fact there was something utterly glorious about a sunny spring afternoon in well-tended garden.

She moved out of the shadows of the side passage. As she walked forward, she scanned the scene for Karen, or for anyone else who might be here from college. It was a very big garden, and there must have been at least eighty people milling around – if not a hundred. She hadn’t expected anything on such a grand scale.

‘There’s Karen,’ said Andrew, pointing off to the left, and Misty was grateful to have a moment or two to take in her former friend unobserved. She looked move confident now. Misty remembered Karen hanging back on the edges of conversations; now she stood assertively, feet planted apart, her red hair mellower but still striking, swinging out over her shoulders. She was holding court amongst five or six others, entertaining them with a story by the looks of it. But then it was her birthday party, it was hardly a surprise that she should be in her element here.

Andrew began walking towards her and gave a wave. The movement must have caught Karen’s eye, because she swung round and called, ‘Andrew!’, her voice cutting through the hubbub like crystal. She’d always had that knack, and the sound of it brought back the old Karen more than anything Misty had seen so far. Immediately leaving the group she was with, Karen crossed the lawn towards them. Misty watched her look grow quizzical, and then astonished.

‘Misty Jardine?’

Misty nodded confirmation.

Karen was with them now. She grasped Misty by both forearms and kissed her cheeks.

‘My God, my God, I don’t believe it! How long has it been?’ She turned quickly to Andrew. ‘You didn’t say anything!’

He shrugged. ‘You brought me a ghost, so I thought I’d bring you one. Seriously, I hope you don’t mind. When we spoke the other week, you seemed … maybe in a difficult place. I thought perhaps it would do you good to rekindle some links with the past. If I got it wrong, blame me.’ He turned to include Misty. ‘Both of you, blame me, not each other.’

Since breaking off their initial embrace, Misty and Karen had circled each other cautiously like a pair of fighting cats.

‘Well, I can’t think of a better birthday surprise,’ said Karen, breaking the silence. ‘Come on, let me get you both some champagne, then we can have a proper catch-up.’ She kept up the chatter as they crossed the lawn. ‘I’m trying to think of the last time we saw each other. Would it have been Benjy and Kirsten’s wedding? Evie was a flower girl and I’m sure I remember seeing you.’

‘Yes, we were there. I remember Evie looking cute as a button. I suppose she’s practically an adult now?’