Page 34 of The Best Friend
His words trickle over me like cold water. I stare straight ahead. The roads are empty. We pull up to a set of traffic lights and stop as the lights change from amber to red. No other cars cross the junction. We sit in silence. Clouds are gathering and the gloom swallows me up. It’s like I’m disappearing into the void.
Fourteen
The day after the party, I drop Joe at school and drive straight over to Beth’s. I called her last night, needing to talk. To get her opinion on everything that’s happening. To unpick the tangle of worries in my head. She has a spare hour this morning before she has to meet a client. It’s not enough time to speak properly, but she’s busy the rest of the week and I can’t wait any longer.
As I drive, I squint into the piercing, morning sun. It’s dangerously bright. Too bright for my mood. I pull up outside Beth’s block and take a deep breath as the engine cools. I mustn’t get myself into a state, she’ll only worry about me and I can’t put that on her. She has a busy enough life as it is – working full time, with a young daughter. I just need some advice, that’s all. Her opinion on what to do for the best.
My seatbelt catches in the door as I try to close it. I swear, loop it back inside the car, and close the door with a clunk. Beth and Carys live in a charmless seventies block, built from garish yellow brick. But the location is a fabulous five minutes from the sea, and the interior is high-ceilinged, light-and-airy beach chic. I climb the steps and press the buzzer. Beth lets me in and I make my way up to the third floor.
‘Hey, Lou.’ She’s already at the door, her head tilted to the side, dressed in a skirt suit and towering heels.
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘You look amazing, Sis.’
‘What, this old thing?’
We hug and laugh.
‘Sorry, Beth,’ I say. ‘You could probably do without your flaky sister dropping in on you right before work.’
‘Don’t be daft. You’re not flaky, and it’s not a problem.’
I follow her through the hall to the kitchen, the aroma of fresh coffee setting my caffeine-craving taste buds off.
‘I’ve already whipped you up a nice, strong cappuccino,’ she says. ‘Sounds like you need one.’
‘Got any whisky to splash in that?’ I ask, only semi-joking.
Beth raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘Sit. Talk.’
I perch myself on a stool next to the granite island. Beth sits next to me cradling a tall glass of green tea.
‘You’re going to think I’m paranoid, or mad,’ I say, taking a tentative sip of my drink. It’s way too hot so I set it back down on the counter top.
‘I already know you’re mad,’ she replies with a smirk.
I try and fail to smirk back. ‘It’s all to do with this mum from school,’ I begin. ‘Her name’s Darcy.’
‘The one we met at the beach? With her husband?’
‘That’s the one.’ I proceed to tell Beth everything that’s happened between then and now. About the subtle little games I think she’s been playing. About Joe’s party. About Jared’s plan to lease one of their offices. I also consider telling her about my stalker, but I haven’t seen him since Darcy told him to piss off, so I decide to leave him out of it. That news will only detract from the stuff about Darcy.
Beth doesn’t interrupt me as I speak. She lets me get everything off my chest. Her patience and listening skills are more than I could ever manage. If it were me listening, I’d be interrupting left, right, and centre. It must be her lawyer training or something. Whatever. I’m grateful. Now I’ve started, it all comes spewing out in a torrent.
Once it’s out there, she sets her drink down and steeples her fingers together. ‘Well,’ she finally says. ‘If Darcy’s as bad as you say she is, then you need to steer clear of her…’
‘But?’ I say. ‘I can sense a “but”.’
She gives a wry smile, wrinkling her nose. It’s something she always does before telling me something I don’t want to hear. ‘It’s just…’ she begins. ‘Do you think there’s any way you might have misinterpreted things? By the sound of it, Darcy is one busy lady. She could genuinely have forgotten to include Joe’s name. It’s not somethingyouwould ever conceive of doing because you’re far too sweet and considerate to ignore a child’s feelings. But, you don’t really know this woman, Lou. She sounds like a flighty, self-obsessed socialite. Thinking about how other people feel is probably way down her list of priorities. I don’t think she would have done it on purpose. What would have been the point?’
Hearing Beth talk about Darcy like this makes me doubt myself even more. But my sister hasn’t spent time with Darcy. ‘What about my column?’ I say. ‘How do you explain that?’
Beth takes a sip of her tea. ‘You were ill, right?’
I nod.
‘And she brought you soup and offered to help you out with your work?’
I twist my lip.
