“Alix, she’s not even five years old. You have to stop buying her things.”
“Why? I want every one of her Christmases to be perfect. She is the most important person in my life—apart from you, of course, and I assume you don’t want a reindeer with a glow-in-the-dark nose. Who else am I going to send toys to? I should go—I have to call Tokyo.”
Tokyo. Christy felt a pang of envy. So far today she’d called the plumber and the dentist. She wouldn’t even know how to call Tokyo.
“Fine, but promise me you won’t wear boring black to that glittering awards dinner tomorrow night.” She picked up a cleaning cloth and wandered into the hallway.
“That’s all I packed.”
Christy swiped her cloth over the table. “You’re staying on Fifth Avenue, Alix. Find something glamorous.”
It had been so long since she’d bought something new to wear. What was the point? Occasionally she and Seb booked a babysitter and walked to the local pub, but it wasn’t like their previous apartment, where they’d been five steps from every type of restaurant. Anyway, lately he’d been too tired to go out. And then there was the money...
Alix was still talking. “Did you hear any more from your aunt? You didn’t discover the deep, dark family secret?”
“No...” Christy wandered into Seb’s study so that Holly couldn’t listen in. “I decided that conversation would be better had in person.”
She’d rather avoid it altogether, but there wasn’t much hope of that. What if it was something truly awful? What if it was difficult to hear? She removed a dead plant from Seb’s desk and glanced out of the window into the darkness. Rain still slid down the glass.
“The weather is horrible here. I hope Seb will be okay. Driving will be bad.”
“He isn’t home?”
“Working late.”
The moment she’d said it, she wished she hadn’t. Alix missed nothing.
There was a pause, and then the predictable question. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course.”
There had been a time when Christy would have told Alix the truth. Shared her worries. But all that had changed the day she’d married Seb. It was the only time in their long friendship that she and Alix had been on opposite sides of an argument.
“Don’t do it, Christy. Don’t marry him. How well do you really know him? He’s a player. Not the kind of guy who settles for a life in the countryside with a wife, two kids and a dog. You’re making a mistake. It doesn’t matter that you’re pregnant.”
Christy thought about that awful moment more often than she should. It wasn’t even as if they’d fought over it. Shaking and upset, she’d simply told Alix that she was wrong, and that she was happy with her decision. She’d told herself that Alix had only been looking out for her, that her concern had been driven by her own less than perfect home life, but the words had settled deep inside her, like scar tissue.
They hadn’t talked about it again. When Alix had anxiously contacted her after the wedding, to check things were okay between them, Christy had reassured her that of course everything was fine. What would have been the point of resurrecting the conversation? What would that have achieved? Nothing. It wasn’t as if they could undo what was done. Better to move on.
But it hadn’t been as easy to move on as she’d hoped. Those words still clanged along with her, like cans attached to the car of newlyweds.
Whenever Alix came to stay she found herself overdoing the “happy family” routine. She made sure that everything was perfect and her smile huge. She was extra-demonstrative toward Seb. Look at us. Look at how happy we are. Look how wrong you were.
She swiped her cloth over Seb’s desk and the top of his laptop, wishing she could just forget about that conversation. When she was younger it had never occurred to her that her friendship with Alix would one day change. When they’d lain in the dark in her bedroom, talking into the night about everything from boys to babies, she’d thought to herself It’s always going to be this way. The discovery that an adult friendship came with complications had been an uncomfortable shock.
She picked up the wedding photo that Seb kept on his desk. When she looked at it all she could see was Alix, her bridesmaid, her knuckles white as she almost snapped the stems of the bouquet. And Christy wasn’t the only one Alix had fallen out with at their wedding.
Staring at the photo, Christy felt a twinge of sadness. Unlike Holly, who mostly dreamed of being a scientist or an explorer, Christy had dreamed of weddings when she was little. Her wedding was going to be the happiest day of her life. But, as with so many things in her life, it hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned.
There she was, wearing a dress that had just about skimmed her growing bump, and there was Alix with Zac, Seb’s closest friend, posing either side of her and Seb like bookends, each wearing the obligatory smile for the camera.
It was Zac who had intervened when Alix had been trying so hard to stop the wedding. He’d propelled her from the room, less than impressed by her freely expressed conviction that the whole thing was a mistake.
What had happened when the two of them had been alone together? Whatever it was had made Alix determined never to cross paths with Zac again.
Christy reached into a drawer for the screen cleaner and flipped open Seb’s laptop.
“Have fun tomorrow night. Send photos. Can’t wait to see you next week.”
Their friendship might have changed, but it was still strong. They still had plenty of ways they could connect. They had no need to step into that single no-go area.
Christy rubbed at the screen with the cloth and it blazed into life. Seb must have forgotten to turn it off. She glanced at it idly—and then with more focus.
Her heart took off. She barely heard Alix’s voice.
“Christy? Are you still there?”
She sat down hard on the office chair. “Yes.”
Her hand shook so badly she almost dropped the phone.
Had she misunderstood the email?
She read it again, trying to stay calm.
You’re the best, Mandy. What would I do without you?
I’ll meet you in Covent Garden at six p.m.
If there’s a problem, call my mobile. Don’t call me at home.
She felt as if someone had punched the air from her lungs.
Mandy? Who was Mandy? It could be innocent...but if so why wouldn’t he want the woman to call him at home? And why wouldn’t he just tell her? Why lie? What was he keeping from her?
He’d told her he was working late, but here was evidence that he wasn’t. He was meeting another woman in Covent Garden and he didn’t want her to know.