Summer at Tiffany's (45 page)

‘Beni Omar. You heard of her?' Kelly asked.

Cassie shook her head.

‘Well, she's this hot new model – walking for
everyone
, got the Vuitton campaign. Bebe's desperate to book her for the next campaign, but, like, ha! – as if! Anyway, she was telling me about body resculpt. It's a Japanese massage that manipulates the bones closer to make you look more petite.'

‘Ugh, sounds disgusting,' Cassie grimaced.

‘Yeah, but if you have it done enough, it can make your waist so tiny it looks like you've had a rib removed.'

‘Really?' Anouk breathed, perching elegantly against the worktop.

‘Even
more
disgusting,' Cassie gurned as her friends edged closer together.

‘Apparently all the top girls are getting it done. Bebe was telling me on the flight who's had it. It's the new thing.'

Cassie watched as Anouk encircled her waist with her hands. There wasn't much space between them. ‘Oh, Nooks, you wouldn't! Come on! How can that be good for you?'

Anouk shrugged, looking back at Kelly. ‘How bad was the pain? Did she say?'

‘You ever crack your knuckles when you were little? I did, all the time.' Kelly's point was clear. She reckoned she could take it on.

‘Well, it would have to be someone who really knew what they were doing,' Anouk said, both cautioning and encouraging her in the same breath.

Cassie groaned as she watched the two of them talking each other into it. She would always be the gauche girl in their company – the girl who wore Pond's Cold Cream instead of Terry, converses instead of heels, a T-shirt to bed instead of No. 5. ‘I can't believe you're seriously considering this. Either one of you.' She shot a look at Kelly.

Kelly shrugged and Cassie turned away to put the watering can back under the sink, but not before she caught Kelly throw a wink to Anouk that clearly meant ‘Book it.'

Was this a flash of defiance? Cassie wondered as some of the water splashed onto her bare legs. Was Kelly telling herself this was one of the perks of
not
being pregnant?

‘Oh, hey, here – before I forget, I got you something,' Anouk said, reaching down to her bag. ‘I was going to drop it through your door while I was here.'

‘What is it?' Cassie asked, straightening up and reaching for her coffee.

Anouk handed her a small envelope and Cassie peered inside, gasping in genuine shock as she saw the contents. ‘Oh my
God
!' she exclaimed, pulling out a small, silver Tiffany heart-shaped locket.

‘The authorities in Paris are clearing the bridges. It's out of control with the whole love locks things. There's tens of thousands of them now and they're so heavy the bridges in some cases will collapse. They want people to do selfies and #lovewithoutlocks instead, but . . .' She pulled a face. ‘Anyway, I thought I should rescue it for you before it disappeared forever. It's not like all the other bike locks and padlocks. It's valuable. It's Tiffany,
non
?!'

‘But how did you even know where to find it?'

‘Easy. When you guys went to Venice that time, Henry left me a note with the coordinates: Pont des Arts, Left Bank side, second section, nine links in, twelve links up, just beneath the pink heart lock—'

Kelly chuckled. ‘Typical Henry.'

‘Even with that, though, it took me so long to find it. It was completely buried. Can you imagine the looks I got? People thought I was a thief!'

‘Or a bitter ex,' Kelly grinned.

Cassie handled the tiny cold pendant. It had been Henry's first move – given to her at Christmas, a box within a box within a box, sitting at the bottom of the tree in the Fifth Avenue store. She'd worn it the rest of her time in New York, until she'd moved to Paris, where he'd ‘accidentally' locked it on to the bridge with the other love lockets – an obscure, underground trend at the time that had since gone viral.

She had often thought of it, ‘their' heart sitting above the Seine in the city of lovers, frozen in the snow, tinder-hot in the sunlight. Constant. Always there. She hadn't ever expected it to come off. She'd thought their locket would still be locked to that bridge in Paris for generations to come.

But now the bridges were being cleaned up, all that love swept aside. Was . . . was this a sign?

She stared at it, so small and simple in her palm. When had everything become so complicated?

‘I did . . . do the right thing, didn't I?' Anouk asked, placing a hand on her arm and looking across at her with concern.

Cassie looked up. ‘Y-yes, yes, of course. I just . . . It's a surprise, that's all. I wasn't expecting . . . Hang on,
how
did you get it off? You don't have the key.'

‘
Non
. But I have some jeweller's tools that meant I could . . . how you say? . . . jimmy the lock?'

‘Oh,' Cassie exhaled. ‘Right.'

Anouk and Kelly swapped glances as Cassie reached over and gently placed the locket on the windowsill. It glinted in the sunlight like a Cupid's heart.

‘What's that?' Anouk asked.

‘What's what?'

‘That.' Anouk pointed to the small arc of gold that could be glimpsed beneath her cuff.

‘Oh, that's nothing. It's—'

‘
Cartier?
' Kelly breathed as Anouk grabbed her hand, holding her arm still, an expression of wicked delight on her face. ‘Henry got you a Love bracelet?'

‘Um—'

‘I thought you guys were broke! Do you have any idea how much those cost?' Kelly almost screeched.

Cassie shook her head.

‘We're talking Birkin money, Fendi fur . . .' Kelly looked impressed, taking Cassie's arm off Anouk and getting a closer look herself. ‘But it's not even that. I'll be honest, I didn't know Henry was so clued up. These babies are fashion's inside track. I wouldn't have thought these were his bag.'

‘Tell me you have got the little screwdriver that goes with it. Don't lose that,' Anouk said sternly. ‘You think a Tiffany locket is hard without a key? Pfft.'

‘Oh, uh . . . yeah. Right.'

‘Ha! Who needs a wedding ring? I guess that's one way round the remarriage problem!' Kelly guffawed, holding Cassie's wrist in her hand as she examined the bangle.

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, he's got you well and truly shackled with that, hasn't he? This baby's like a handcuff . . . Hey, what's that?' she asked, peering at it more closely.

It was a moment before Cassie caught up and realized what Kelly had seen.

‘It's nothing!' she said sharply, snatching her hand away, tugging roughly at the cuff again.

But it was too late. The expression on Kelly's face told her she'd seen the inscribed date – a date that she remembered well herself: she'd been there. It was a date that led to only one conclusion. Her hand dropped down, a look of stunned astonishment on her face as Cassie turned out of the kitchen and stepped onto the fire escape, her heart pounding, her mind racing. But there was no alternative explanation for this, nothing she could say to mitigate the shock of what she was already embroiled in.

Kelly's voice was quiet behind her. ‘Care to explain?'

‘How does Brett put up with you?' Anouk tutted, trying to pull back the pintucked eiderdown from Kelly. ‘You are such a hogger.'

Kelly, who was sitting beside her on the other side of the bed, shrugged. ‘I know, but at least I'm not a kicker. Cassie's the worst kicker, don't you remember?'

‘I am not!' Cassie protested from her position at the foot of the bed. They were sleeping like sardines tonight, but Cassie was sure she'd been put in the tails end so that Anouk and Kelly could both face her like an inquisition – or firing squad.

‘We're going to wake up with concussions tomorrow,' Kelly chuckled, prompting a kick from Cassie, whose earlier tears had left her veering wildly between outright defiance and forlorn exhaustion, and she was still fragile, even now after several hours of improvised spa treatments in her bedroom, which were supposed to try and relax her (although Kelly had had to go into the room and turn over all the pictures of Cassie and Henry first).

Scented candles flickered delicately from every surface, trying to overpower the synthetic scent of nail polish – Chanel's Mirabella decorated their toes, still peeking out from the bedcovers – and they were lying on the bed with their hands held up, smothered in an expensive anti-ageing cream Anouk kept in her bag, while Kelly tried to rub open the latex gloves that Henry kept in the cupboard under the sink for plumbing emergencies; supposedly they were going to wake up tomorrow with the lily-soft hands of five-year-old princesses. Every so often, Cassie got another, slightly hysterical fit of the giggles as she took in the sight of Kelly and Anouk with Bircher muesli on their faces, which only a sharp reflexology dig in the solar plexus region of her right foot could stop.

‘So, you seem a little calmer,' Anouk said, holding her hands still for Kelly to roll on the gloves. It reminded Cassie of surgeons being gloved in a medical drama.

Cassie just blinked. ‘I feel paralysed. I don't know which way's up anymore. I certainly don't know which way's forward.'

‘I just can't imagine you without Henry,' Kelly murmured quietly, ineffable sadness in her voice.

Cassie looked away, assailed by another violent rush of emotions. She couldn't imagine it either.

It was odd. She
could
imagine being with Luke – all the feelings she'd once had for him were still there; she had simply boxed them away and now she'd let them out, acknowledged them, they were coexisting alongside her feelings for Henry. But the one thing she couldn't do was imagine
not
being with Henry. Her mind wouldn't go there; her heart wouldn't let her. The very thought was impossible.

‘You still love him, right?' Kelly asked.

‘Of course I do! I will always love him! He's the love of my life,' Cassie said with too-bright eyes. She slumped further into the pillows, her voice flattening. ‘But I just don't think that's going to be enough anymore. It's clear we want very different things. He's forcing this issue and I can't pretend that I didn't go through what I went through. You don't just walk out of a ten-year marriage without there being some kind of payback, and he just doesn't
get
that. I don't know how I can explain myself any more clearly. Why would I go back to something that makes a prisoner of me, locks me in regardless of how other people behave? I don't ever want to leave him, but I have to be free to leave; that possibility has to be there for me now. I've got to keep a door open.'

Kelly looked sad at her words. Anouk didn't.

‘Well, I quite agree,' Anouk sighed. ‘People place so much weight on ownership, like they've got to possess you. Why? Surely it is more comforting to know that the person you are with has
chosen
to stay. They could go, but they choose not to.' She arched an eyebrow. ‘It is much more seductive, no?'

‘I couldn't disagree more,' Kelly said, rubbing even more furiously on the latex glove, which merely flapped in her hands like a dying fish. ‘When you make the choice to dedicate your life to that one person, and one person only, you build an intimacy that your so-called freedoms could never touch. It's way sexier.'

‘In the beginning maybe,' Anouk shrugged. ‘But twenty years from now you'll be obsessing over that hair that's sprouted at the end of his nose and wondering why the hell he can't see it and get rid of it. Everything you love now will be driving you crazy by then.'

‘So what's your answer? Keep turning them over? Be with younger guys as you get older? Where's the peace in that? You'd be paranoid about your looks, your allure. How long will they stay? Are they seeing anyone else? Should you leave them before they can leave you?'

‘Actually—'

‘OK, girls. Time out?' Cassie said tiredly, making a T-sign with her hands, the bangle sliding down her wrist. It was smeared with muesli, but she couldn't get it off – Luke had the screwdriver and nothing in Henry's toolbox was small enough to fit it. ‘I appreciate the debate, but there's nothing hypothetical about my situation. If I don't marry him, he says we're f-finished,' she stuttered. ‘I've got to give a “yes” or “no” answer. It's that simple. And that impossible.'

‘Sorry,' they both murmured.

Cassie's face fell, twisting with pain as another surge of anxiety reared up inside her and she grabbed her hair by the temples, oblivious to the fact that she hadn't yet got her gloves on. ‘Oh God, I am fucking up.'

‘No, you're not. Not yet, anyway. Only if you make the wrong call,' Kelly said quickly. ‘And nothing has been done yet that can't be undone . . . Right?'

It was a moment before Cassie realized what she was getting at. ‘No. We just kissed.' But even that was a betrayal, just on a sliding scale of degrees, something that would have been unfathomable – abhorrent – to the version of herself sitting here two weeks ago. She had kissed another man. She was planning on leaving Henry, leaving here, this life, this path, and stepping onto a new one. How had she got here?
How?

‘How are you feeling now you're away from them both?' Anouk asked, twiddling a biro between her fingers and Cassie could tell she was gearing up for a cigarette.

She shrugged weakly. ‘It all seems so distant now. I mean, Henry's somewhere in the middle of the Pacific; Luke's in Cornwall. It's hard to believe either one of them is waiting for
me.
'

‘And yet they both are,' said Kelly. She gave a heavy sigh. ‘Tell me this. Would you still be walking away from Henry if you didn't have Luke to go to?'