Summer at Tiffany's (44 page)

Martin handed over the paper bag and her change. ‘Enjoy Saturday.'

‘Oh, I won't,' she laughed.

‘I'm gonna wanna hear about this wedding. All the gory details,' he called after her as she slipped into the crowds again. ‘I love it when them brides is mad.'

She stopped at all her usual stalls – the cheese, the chutneys, the purple carrots – knowing the traders by name and chatting with extra gaiety as they all commented on how ‘well' she was looking. She was having a ball, shopping in the sunshine and mingling with the crowds; she felt lighter and freer than she had in months. She hadn't realized what a burden it had been constantly trying to fend off a life she didn't want. She felt giddy with relief.

In under an hour the list was almost ticked off and her neon-orange string shopping bags were bulging. The flat was only a three-minute walk from here and already her palms were striated from the weight of the groceries, but she couldn't make herself walk faster. After twelve hours of living in her head, reality was beginning to bite. Luke's proposal had seemed so easy, so
obvious
when they were standing in the moonlit field, a puppy snuffling at their feet, but she didn't know how to walk into her and Henry's home and be presented with their own life interrupted; how to stand with a stranger's eyes in her own hall and face everything that they shared. She wasn't sure she could meet Henry's gaze in the numerous photos she had proudly dotted on every surface when they'd moved in, their togetherness as tangible as a Saharan wind. She didn't think she could look at what she was supposed to walk away from.

She stopped walking, feeling fluey, her body aching and suddenly so, so tired she thought she could curl up on the pavement and go to sleep.

She didn't want to go home, but neither did she want to go back to Cornwall. Not yet. She still had to think. To be
really
sure . . . The bags in her hands sagged another inch closer to the ground. Luke's face last night shimmered in her mind, the pretending over. She was further than ever from knowing what she wanted. Suzy had said she was caught between lives and she'd been right. She'd been right about all of it. But just because Suzy had been right, it didn't meant that what Cassie felt was wrong.

No – coffee, that was what she needed. She was just tired. After a sleepless night and long, early morning journey, coming straight to the market had taken it out of her. She needed some fuel to get her through this next bit; it wouldn't help her to go home when she was already depleted. She was tired and emotional as it was.

She looked over at the cafe on the other side of the road. The tables had been set up outside with red-striped parasols, and almost all of them were taken.

Cassie walked over, heading for the nearest free table; it was in the sun and she'd need to somehow move the giant umbrella if she wanted any shade but she was already focused on the double espresso (the way Anouk took her coffee) that was going to restore her energy – and courage.

She was just about to release her bags from her poor, reddened hands when she noticed the women at the next table – a halo of bright blonde hair flashing in the sunlight.

Cassie stiffened as she immediately recognized the dazzling smile that accompanied it, the same dazzling smile that had aroused such insecurity in her the first time she'd seen it. What . . . what was
she
doing here?

Cassie's feet took her to the table. ‘Hi.' She had interrupted the girl's conversation without thinking about it, without noticing the quizzical expression of the girl's lunch companion, who was looking her up and down, her eyes sticking at the bulging shopping bags in Cassie's hands; the blonde girl shielded her eyes to get a better look at the dazed stranger standing over her and staring.

‘You're Amy.'

Amy frowned. ‘That's right.'

‘Why aren't you on the boat?'

Amy gave a curious but unamused laugh. ‘Sorry,
who
are you?'

‘I'm Cassie, Henry's—'

Amy's face brightened. ‘Oh yeah. Henry's fiancée! I know all about
you
. How are you?' she asked, like they were old friends.

‘Why aren't you on the boat?' Cassie repeated. She suddenly didn't feel right at all. It didn't make sense. There was no reason that she could think of as to why Amy would be sitting here and not sailing the Pacific.

She shrugged. ‘They didn't need me once Henry came on board.'

‘But you're the co-skipper.'

‘There was only ever supposed to be one. The cabin was too small for six.'

Cassie was confused. ‘Do you mean you were taken off the team because of Henry?'

‘Mm-hmm.' Amy seemed blasé about it.

‘But why? Why did they need him if they already had you?'

‘Beau was doing a favour for a friend.' Amy shrugged. ‘Hey, listen, it wasn't like I cared either way. Three months in a tiny cabin with five blokes is so not my idea of a good time.'

‘Yeah, right, like you'd have lasted three months,' Amy's lunch companion laughed. ‘You told me you and Beau were going to get off at the first water stop and holiday in the Solomon Islands for a few weeks.'

Amy laughed too, putting a finger to her lips. ‘Sssh! I told you not to repeat that.'

‘I don't understand,' Cassie said, looking between them both.

‘No, you wouldn't,' the friend said in an unfriendly tone, fiddling with the straw in her water and clearly willing Cassie to leave.

Cassie stared down at them both, confused and uncertain, but Amy's amused smile had gone now and her bright face had folded into a harder, more inscrutable expression that discouraged further questioning.

Cassie stepped back, sensing that she'd stumbled into something but not sure what, and she didn't notice the weight of the bags pulling on her hands anymore as she staggered home, lost in theories and ideas that slipped from view like figures in the mist whenever she tried to calculate more than two steps ahead.

She put the key into the lock of the building's front door and slowly trudged up the stairs. She was going to get into the flat and go straight to bed. She wasn't well, she didn't feel right. She felt as wiped out now as she had felt wired an hour earlier.

‘And honestly, she said it was like having every bone in her body snapped.'

‘She said that – and yet still did it?'

‘I know, right?'

Cassie's feet stopped moving as the accents – familiarly wry and sophisticated – drifted down to her ear. Surely . . . ?

She turned the corner to find Kelly and Anouk sitting on her doorstep. The bags dropped from her grasp.

‘Finally!' Anouk exclaimed, getting up and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. But Cassie couldn't take her eyes off Kelly and she stared at her in mute despair over Anouk's shoulder, taking in her friend's pale complexion and unchanged figure. If she was here, then . . .

How could she explain to her friend that she hadn't been able to get the laptop again to call? That to get it, she'd have had to go to Luke and she couldn't possibly have done that after the festival; they'd spent all this week playing cat and mouse, avoiding and hiding from each other, before breaking into the chase again.

Anouk released her and Kelly stepped in for her embrace. ‘Not a word,' she murmured into Cassie's hair.

Cassie blinked her agreement in silent reply. No one knew and now no one ever would, not even Brett. Especially not him.

They stepped apart. ‘Bebe here?' Cassie asked, with deliberate levity.

Kelly rolled her eyes, playing the game too. ‘Holed up at Claridge's waiting for her finest hour. She's having lunch with Philip Treacy and the Porter team.'

‘Ah. At least that'll keep her off your back for a while.' Cassie was aware that her voice sounded odd.

‘Are
you
OK? You look pale. Doesn't she look pale?' Kelly asked Anouk, who immediately squinted and nodded.

‘Really? Everyone else has been telling me how well I look. I've got a tan, you know,' Cassie said breezily, putting her keys into the lock and trying to shake off her unsettling conversation with Amy. So she'd been ousted from the team? So what? If she wasn't bothered, why should Cassie be? Beau had done his old friend a favour and given Henry a job; that was the most important thing. She wasn't remotely surprised to learn that Beau had been planning to skive off for most of it.

‘How did you know I was here?' Cassie asked, stepping into the hallway but keeping her eyes on the floor as she fussed over the bags. She wasn't sure whether it was a help or a hindrance to have the girls with her here in the flat. They could distract her, but could she keep up the act in front of them?

‘Suze,' Kelly said, helping with a bag. ‘She said you were back for an overnighter before the wedding.'

Cassie stiffened. Had she told the others about their fight and what it was about?

‘Actually, that reminds me,' Kelly continued. ‘You should probably call her back. Is your mobile off? She just called again a few minutes ago, asking if you were here yet. I told her I thought we'd missed you.'

‘Right. Yes, thanks, I will,' Cassie murmured, with no such intention of returning the call. It was going to be hard enough talking face-to-face.

‘I take it this means you two didn't manage to stop the wedding, then?' Anouk asked, going straight into the kitchen and switching on the coffee machine. ‘You were supposed to talk to her, weren't you?'

‘Yeah, and that went so well,' Cassie said with a groan, dropping the bags onto the kitchen floor. ‘So well, in fact, that far from talking Gem out of it, I somehow talked myself into doing the bloody catering! Hence . . .' Cassie gave a small sweep of the groceries with her hands. ‘I am the Mr Bean of sabotage.'

Anouk chuckled, shaking her head. ‘
D
é
sastre
.'

‘Whose wedding are we talking about, and why on earth were you trying to stop it from going ahead?' Kelly asked, a scolding tone in her voice.

‘Gem, Suzy's cousin. Hattie's her legal guardian and both Suze and Hats are dead against it. They think she's too young and that her bloke is after her money. I definitely mentioned it to you . . .'

‘And is he?' Anouk asked, her eyes sliding discreetly over to Kelly, clearly remembering that, years earlier, Kelly had been scammed by a man for exactly that.

‘Well,
I
don't think so,' Cassie said with a quick shrug. ‘He's very nice, actually. He's been teaching me to surf.'

‘Oh yeah!' Kelly laughed. ‘And how's that working out for you?'

‘Brilliantly, actually,' Cassie giggled, flicking her with a tea towel. ‘I'll have you know, I caught my first wave yesterday.'

‘Oooh. Was it a spiritual moment?'

Cassie remembered the rush of that moment, again, the feeling of Luke's arms around her as they revelled in her success, the realization that they could fight the feelings between them but not deny them. She felt almost drunk on it. She looked at her two oldest, dearest friends – her family really – and realized how far she had strayed from the path of her own life. They thought they knew everything about her – the name of the first boy she kissed and the humiliation of their braces clashing, her favourite song, the secret ingredient in her famous lasagne – but they didn't know that Luke was back in her life, back in Cornwall waiting for her, much less that last night she had been back in his arms. How could she even begin to articulate to them the predicament she was in? To anyone?

She was close to her mother, in spite of the distance and time difference with Hong Kong, and they spoke regularly on the phone, but she had kept quiet about her recent and growing troubles with Henry, worried her mother would think she was ‘failing' again, feeling ashamed by her inability to do what everyone wanted her to do, to just ‘move on', unhurt, unwounded, fully restored to unblemished emotional health. That alone was bad enough; there was no question of confiding in her about her confusion with Luke too.

‘You're out of caffeinated,' Anouk said, holding up the Nespresso coffee tray accusingly.

Cassie pulled an apologetic face. ‘Oh . . . yeah, about that. Henry's been trying to get me to cut down on my caffeine intake recently. We're drinking decaff these days.'

Anouk muttered something furiously and rapidly in French under her breath. Coffee without caffeine in it clearly wasn't coffee.

‘So, what? You're going back again?' Kelly asked, decanting food into the fridge.

‘Yes, tomorrow afternoon,' Cassie sighed, already dreading the long journey. ‘I'm taking the car down. I have to – there's too much kit to carry for the train.' She struggled with the lock on the back door, tugging it open with effort and basking for a moment as a rush of warm air burst in, refreshing the stifled little flat, which had simply been locked up and left.

‘Will your car make it?' Anouk asked drolly with an arched eyebrow as she placed down the three coffees.

‘Oh, ye of little faith. I'll have you know it's fresh back from the garage.' The herbs in her window box were looking thirsty, she noticed, reaching into the cupboard under the sink for the small enamel watering can. ‘That still doesn't mean it'll make it,' Kelly drawled.

Cassie flipped her the bird and both women laughed. ‘So what were you two talking about as I was coming up the stairs just now? Something about snapping bones? It sounded grim,' she said, stepping out onto the fire escape and watering the parched soil, watching as the water splashed onto the dry, dusty leaves. Her ears picked up on the busy chatter coming from the apple tree and she was surprised how much she had missed it. Without ever realizing it before, those little birds' songs had become the soundtrack to her life here with Henry. She felt her heart contract sharply, like a stitch.