Love @ First Site Page 27

  And most importantly of all . . . well, to me anyway . . . there's Olivia and Michael, looking the happiest and most relaxed I've seen them in a long time. She's due for another session of chemo next week, but in the meantime, she's determined to see in the New Year in a positive frame of mind.

  You know those fantastical dreams you sometimes have? Where, maybe you're singing a pitch-perfect song in front of the Albert Hall to rapturous applause, then suddenly it all goes badly wrong and your face and voice distort, the audience looking on in abject horror?

  Well, there's Kara and Dan across the room, ruining my otherwise idyllic New Year moment with their irritating mugs--hers smug, his sheepish. They have been putting on a nauseating display of togetherness for most of the night, their mouths clamped together like a mollusk to a rock. Take your pick as to which is which.

  I gave Kara a rigid, half smile across the room earlier in the evening, but other than that, I haven't exchanged a word with either of them and don't intend to.

  "Auld Lang Syne" comes to a thankful end and I reclaim my arms to pick up my glass of wine from the coffee table. At least, I think it's mine, but I'm past caring, having sunk several glasses already.

  "Happy New Year!" I feel a hand on my back and swivel round to see Olivia's smiling face. She looks fabulous in a stunning, over-the-top red wig, but I can tell by the shadows under her eyes that she's tiring fast.

  "Happy New Year to you too!" I gather her in my arms and squeeze tightly, burying my face in her neck. "This one's going to be so much better than the last."

  "God help us all if it turns out to be worse." She laughs, raising her eyes heavenwards.

  Michael appears at her side, brandishing a fresh glass of champagne. "Here you go. Just this one," he says, passing it to her. "Then it's back to soft drinks, I'm afraid."

  "Yes, doctor." Olivia grins, doing a mock salute.

  Michael turns to me and plants a kiss on the top of my head. "Happy New Year." He jerks his head towards Olivia. "I'm taking her home in a minute. She mustn't overdo it."

  "Spoilsport." Olivia pushes out her bottom lip, but it's easy to see she'll be grateful to get home and rest. She takes a small sip of the champagne, then places it on the coffee table with a finality that suggests she won't be picking it up again. "Come on then, let's hit the road. I'll just go and say thanks to Tabitha and Will."

  Michael and I watch her walk through into the kitchen, then turn back to face each other.

  "I think you might have to keep a watchful eye on her tomorrow," I say quietly. "New Year's Day can have a funny effect on people. You either feel upbeat and determined to alter the things about your life you don't like, or it all feels out of your control and you feel crashingly depressed at the thought of more of the same."

  Michael nods. "I always keep a watchful eye on her anyway, but I know what you mean. I shall be extra vigilant tomorrow and make sure she's kept occupied. Come round if you like."

  "Thanks. I may well do that."

  Olivia reappears at our side, her coat thrown over one arm. "Ready?"

  Michael nods. "We might see you tomorrow then?"

  "I'll let you know in the morning." I smile. "Depends on the hangover. Ciao." I hold my glass up to toast them, then wander through to the kitchen where, to paraphrase the old song, people always end up at parties. Closest to the booze, I suppose.

  "Hello, stranger." Ben is standing just inside the door talking to a man, who, judging by what resemble two small cauliflowers either side of his head, is from the rugby club. The thought idly crosses my mind that he might be the one Will saw Ben embracing.

  "Hello, Happy New Year!" I clink my glass against both of theirs. Ben's friend waves at someone across the other side of the room and wanders off in that direction.

  "Was it something I said?" I say to his retreating back. "Or . . ." I sniff theatrically into my left armpit.

  Ben smiles. "He's a bit henpecked. I suspect his wife saw you hone into view and clicked her fingers for him to move away."

  I grin and shrug. "Oh well, it's nice to know I could actually be seen as a threat, I suppose."

  "Well, you do look lovely."

  "Thanks." I look down at my outfit of plain, black sleeveless top, pencil skirt, and black kitten heels. "We aim to please."

  He reaches across to the counter nearby and picks up a bottle of wine, refilling my glass. "So how have you been? We haven't spoken in a while."

  "Er . . ." I place my finger on my chin in mock thought. "Actually, it's only been a couple of weeks and that's probably because we've both been rather sidetracked by Christmas."

  "Probably." He nods in agreement. "Good one?"

  "Not bad. We all went to Mum and Dad's, which was nice. You?"

  "Same. Except Mum and Dad came to Sunshine House as I was on duty. There was only one family staying there, so it was quiet but pleasant." He shrugs. "And how's Olivia? I saw her earlier and she looked as if she was having a good time."

  "She's getting there." I cross my fingers and hold them up in front of his face. "One day at a time."

  "Good, glad to hear it." He takes a swig from his can of lager. "And the new job still going well?"

  "Love it!" I nod enthusiastically and drink more wine.

  "I still can't believe you walked out of the old one in a row over little old us." He places a hand on his chest and smiles.

  "It was a long time coming." More wine. "Sunshine House was just the catalyst," I slur.

  "So, Olivia improving, job great . . . life's looking up, eh? And what about the love life then?" he adds casually.

  I turn down the corners of my mouth. "Nonexistent."

  He looks surprised. "No more Internet dates?"

  "Nah, gave that up as a bad job. I was seeing someone briefly, but it didn't work out."

  "Oh? Why?"

  One side of my nose scrunches up. "It just didn't feel right." The excess of wine is now making my head spin. "We had great sex though."

  I notice Ben's expression harden slightly.

  "Oh, sorry," I add hastily. "I forgot you don't like talking about sex."

  Now he looks faintly perplexed. "I never said that. From what I can remember . . . and my memory is slightly hazy . . . I merely said that sex is just part of a happy marriage and people get too hung up on it."

  I look at him wordlessly for a few moments, absorbing what he's said and feeling this overwhelming, alcohol-fueled compulsion to dare to tread where others have failed.

  "Ben?"

  "I love a girl who can remember my name." He grins.

  "Are you gay?"

  The smile evaporates. Oh dear. "Pardon?" His cheeks have flushed slightly, but I'm not sure whether it's embarrassment or a reaction to the heat in the overcrowded room.

  "Are you gay?" I repeat, looking over my shoulder to check no one's listening. "It's all right, I won't tell anyone if you are."

  His features have hardened again. "Well, thank you very much. I'm so glad I can rely on your discretion." His voice has hardened, too.

  Having jumped into this conversational abyss with both feet, I do what I always do when I feel awkward. I overcompensate and witter on before the other person has had a chance to elaborate.

  "It's just that Will said . . . you know, Will . . ." I point across the room to where he's guffawing loudly with two of his friends.

  "Yes, Jess, he introduced us, remember?" Ben interjects, slicing across my waffle. "What did he say? I'm all ears."

  If sober, at this point I would have picked up on his hostility and backed away from the subject, coming up with some explanatory twaddle about Will simply mentioning that Ben seemed more sensitive than most men. But, having drunk a skip full of various white wines, I plow on regardless.

  "He said that he'd seen you embracing one of the other rubgy players at the club recently."

  "I see." His tone is icy and he's looking across the room towards an oblivious Will. "What did he see exactly?"

  I frown, trying to
remember. "Um, not sure, but I think he thought you were kissing."

  Ben's pupils seem to have dilated to pinprick proportions and there's a small twitch throbbing away in his right cheek. He looks furious, but says absolutely nothing.

  "It's just that as I told you all about Olivia," I burble, filling the awkward void, "I wanted you to know that if you have a big secret it would help to share, then I'm your woman." I finish my proclamation with what I hope is a reassuring grin.

  "I see." A tone of granite.

  "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know," I continue, only the top of my head visible now in the giant hole I'm digging for myself. "It's just that I like you and really want us to be friends, and you said you hadn't had a girlfriend or a relationship in a long time, so I thought perhaps . . ."

  But he doesn't seem to be listening, clearly distracted by something happening over my left shoulder. He suddenly manages a rigid smile.

  "Hi, Tab, great party," he says over my head.

  I turn round to find Tab standing immediately behind me, a look of determined intent on her face. She places a hand in the crook of my arm.

  "Thanks, Ben." She smiles. "I hope I don't seem rude, but do you mind if I drag Jess away for a few minutes? There's something I need to discuss with her."

  Ben makes a theatrical gesture with his hand. "Be my guest. Jess and I can catch up later."

  Before I can reply, Tab is leading me out into the hallway, gesturing for me to sit on the bottom step of the staircase. She lowers herself next to me, her face flush with excitement.

  "It's very early days, but I'm absolutely bursting to tell someone other than Will . . ." She pauses, studying my face for any kind of reaction. Thanks to the aforementioned surfeit of alcohol, I merely look gormless. "I think I might be pregnant!" she adds.

  "Ohmigod! That's fantastic!" I leap to my feet and start jumping up and down, then realize I may be giving the game away and instantly sit back down again. I grab her hand and squeeze it instead. "How far gone?"

  She peers round the edge of the stairs to check no one is lurking in the hallway. "As I said, it's very early days. Only about six weeks, so anything could go wrong at this stage."

  "Of course it won't go wrong," I whisper reassuringly. "God, I'm so excited for you! What a great start to the new year." I hug her. "I'll bet Will is chuffed to bits."

  "Like a dog with two dicks." She grins. "He's absolutely dying to stand on a chair and tell everyone here, but I have strictly forbidden it until I'm past the vital first three months."

  "So, this is as a result of the IVF?"

  She nods. "Yep. To be honest, when we went for a follow-up the other day, I had resigned myself to the fact that I wasn't pregnant, so when they said I was it took a while to sink in." Her eyes are shining at the memory. "I had to stop Will doing handsprings down the corridor."

  We both hear footsteps coming down the hallway and stop talking instantly. A couple I don't know appear at the foot of the stairs, their coats on.

  "We're off now, Tabitha." The woman smiles. "Thanks for a great party."

  Tab stands up and kisses her on both cheeks. "Thanks for coming. And we must have that lunch soon."

  Whilst they're talking, I stand up and whisper in Tab's ear that I'm off to the loo. When I reemerge, she's still at the bottom of the stairs, saying good-bye to a couple of Will's rugby friends. Squeezing past, I head back towards the kitchen.

  The party has now thinned out substantially, with people standing in small pockets around the outside, a large gap in the middle of the room.

  Ben has his back to me, talking to Madeleine and the rugby player she has been glued to the side of all night. Poor lamb, those rugby scrums will be nothing compared to the sexual Olympics he'll be put through when she gets him home.

  In an uncharacteristic display of public affection, Richard and Lars are snogging in the corner near the CD player, now blaring out a medley of '70s disco hits. But no one's dancing.

  Sighing, I pour myself a glass of water and start to think about heading home. I'm drunker than I've been in ages, but underneath the fog I recall my conversation with Ben with mortification. It's definitely time to call it a night. Tab has offered me her spare room, but if I can persuade Richard to take a slight detour, I might hitch a lift in his pre-booked cab.

  "Hello, stranger."

  I swivel round to find myself face-to-face with Kara, just walking through from the living room. Dan is a few paces behind and joins her at my side.

  "We were just talking about you in there," she says, jerking her head towards the door. "Interesting . . . very interesting indeed."

  My head is pounding now, the New Year hangover already settling in for a long stay and not a painkiller in sight. "Really?" is all I can muster.

  "Yes." Her heavily made-up eyes are hooded with evil intent. "Dan was just telling me about your little tete-a-tete in the pub."

  "What?" I'm genuinely baffled, assuming she can't be talking about that night as it was such a long time ago.

  "Oh, come on, Jess, don't play Little Miss Innocent," she hisses under her breath. "The night you were supposed to be getting answers for me, remember? He's just told me everything that happened."

  I glance at Dan, but he's staring at the floor, scraping his boot back and forth across a mock marble tile. The urge to shout "taxi!" and run down the corridor is overwhelming.

  "Kara." I sigh wearily. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

  She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, then places her hands on her hips in an aggressive stance. "Then let me refresh your memory. You had too much to drink and came on to my boyfriend when you were supposed to be helping to get us back together."

  "Sorry?" I say incredulously.

  "You just couldn't bear it, could you?" she says shrilly. "That whilst you were grubbing around the Internet and shagging married men, I was enjoying a normal, happy relationship with a man who adored me. You just had to try and spoil it."

  I laugh hollowly. "You are joking?" It suddenly strikes me that the music has stopped and the room has fallen into deathly silence.

  "No, I'm deadly serious." Her tone is venomous.

  I stand there mute for a few seconds, looking from one to the other. Dan has lifted his head now, but is still looking anywhere but at me.

  "Dan?" I try to catch his eye. "Is this true? Is that what you said?"

  He glances at me uncomfortably for a nanosecond, then looks away again. "Yep. I felt she had to know," he says into the distance.

  And suddenly--flashback. I feel another pivotal moment taking hold, just like the one that finally sent me over the edge in Janice's office. Another gross injustice, not only in front of an audience, but this time in front of my friends. I feel the same surge of energy overtake me, rippling through my body at a five-alarm rate despite my champagne haze.

  "You absolute, Grade A, duplicitous wanker!" I shout, looking at him, then turning back to Kara. "He came on to me, not the other way round."

  Kara shakes her head slowly as if I'm a hopeless cause. "Pathetic. Quite, quite pathetic."

  I take one step away from her, turning my back in irritation, then swivelling round again. "No, Kara, I'll tell you what's pathetic. You and him." I jerk my head from one to the other. "He came on to me and yes, we kissed, long and hard if you must know. But then I came to my senses and left. Alone." I glance to the other side of the room to see Richard, his jaw practically hitting the floor with what he is witnessing.

  Turning back, I point at Dan. "Prior to that, he had spent the entire evening telling me what . . . and I quote . . . a fucking cow you were, and how you were pestering him to get married and how it had made him realize that he didn't love you."

  I pause for breath. Kara is rooted to the spot, ashen faced with anger, whilst Dan is shaking his head at her, imploring her not to believe a word I'm saying.

  "He also said you were constantly nagging him to get a proper job, something in the City
if I remember rightly . . ."

  Kara's facial expression doesn't change, but I notice a fleeting bolt of panic flash into her eyes.

  "That's true, isn't it?" I demand. "And how would I know that if snake-boy here hadn't told me? I'm telling the truth, Kara, I have absolutely no reason to lie."

  I stop and stare at her defiantly. One couple in the corner are valiantly pretending not to listen to this Jerry Springer Show unfolding before their eyes, but despite their low conversation, I know they're listening. Everyone else in the room is blatantly absorbing every word.

  Kara takes a deep breath. "On the contrary, Jess, you have every reason to lie." The harsh shrieking has now been replaced by a wounded tone. "You've always been jealous of me. Jealous of my confidence and my looks, jealous of my relationships, and particularly this one. Yet I have always overlooked all that and strived to be a good friend to you, regardless. And this is how you repay me."

  I feel another surge of anger rolling through me. "Brilliant. Just brilliant. Me jealous of you?" I scoff. "I don't think so . . . you're bitter, twisted, humorless, . . ." I hold up a finger for each adjective, ". . . desperately insecure, duplicitous, bitchy, and, quite frankly, just a little bit dull. Which all adds up to you being one giant pain in the arse."

  I take a couple of steps to the right and reach for the back of the chair, where I've hooked my handbag, preparing to leave.

  "And you know what else? You and I have been friends . . . whatever that means . . . for years and years now, and only the other day I was thinking 'why?' I've never really liked you, yet for some reason I always put up with all your shit, hanging on in there in the vague hope that, one day, you might show some appreciation for my loyalty . . . that it might all turn out to be worthwhile in the end. But you never did. You just carried on browbeating me, ridiculing me whenever you got the chance . . . treading all over your little people-pleasing friend. Even that Internet ad was designed solely to try and humiliate me, to hammer home the suggestion that I couldn't meet anyone the normal way. You were mortified when you thought I'd met someone nice, then nakedly thrilled when he turned out to be married . . ."