‘Well, how lovely. Freddie hasn’t had the chance to introduce us yet. He really does deserve a little happiness. What a lovely man.’
‘A lovely man. So tested. It never ends.’
‘Sorely tested. So much compassion.’
They shook their heads, expressionless.
‘Tested?’ said Stella. ‘What do you mean tested?’
No one said anything and Ana touched Stella gently on the arm, saying, ‘So, where are you guys from? Have you known Freddie a long time?’
The blonde, who introduced herself as Holly, said, ‘Our husbands were at Harvard with Freddie, so you know, we’ve been here with Freddie through everything. What a ghastly illness. It’s so great to see him throwing such a big party, to see so many of the old Harvard faces.’
Jesus, we get it, thought Stella. Your husbands went to Harvard. Well done you. What a massive achievement. You got married.
The blonde was droning on. ‘… He deserves some fun and this party… and your little friend of, course, are all part of it. Dixie – it was Dixie, wasn’t it? – is a very lucky girl.’
‘Or rather he’s a lucky guy,’ smiled Stella through gritted teeth, ‘Dixie is one in a million.’
‘Well, given what’s happened, I don’t think anyone would call Freddie lucky, but fortitude is the father of resilience.’
At that point, fortuitously, a waiter interrupted them with a tray of irresistible canapés. The Botox bitches just waved them away but Stella grabbed two duck rolls in one hand and declined the offered napkin. She didn’t want to have to put her drink down so she shoved both in and chewed with difficulty, cheeks bulging, watching them watch her with what might have been horror or admiration. It was impossible to tell.
At this very moment, another tray of drinks floated by about chest high. Stella followed it and when she returned, Ana had disappeared. She shrugged and, hearing music, followed her ears towards the dance floor. There she knew she would find her people: those who were too drunk to be making polite conversation.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ana
The ornamental gardens before her were lit in boulevards like a New World Versailles, and between the low box hedges New York’s glitterati buzzed. A jazz band was playing, as Ana stroked her dark, lustrous ponytail and pulled it a little coyly forward over her shoulder and took another sip of champagne, holding it patiently in her mouth so as to savour every molecule. Ana was glowing and it wasn’t a pregnancy glow. It was the Perrier Jouet. Being permitted a single drink each day ensured (perhaps it was a hangover from Xavier’s mindfulness) that she wrung every microsecond, every mind-accelerating split-second of pleasure from the perfectly chilled coupe.
She’d had to get away from Stella. There was jeopardy in every interaction. She wanted to help her but didn’t know how.
Ana’s dress choice, a Saturday-prescribed black and white, obviously, was a triumph. The black and white chevrons were stark enough to slow traffic. She was looking superb and she was enjoying that awareness.
A cold hand covered her eyes.
‘Guess who?’
‘Dix, I can hear you and smell you. What have you been doing?’
‘That is smoked salmon… FYI! Isn’t this amazing?’
They looked down to where a troupe of acrobats had appeared on stilts passing out flowers as they stepped over the hedges and around the partygoers; others were juggling and tumbling, all were dressed as harlequins. One was leading a rather scared-looking giraffe.
‘I have never seen anything like it. I keep expecting Leonardo DiCaprio to come round the corner in a tux. Having fun, Freddie?’
Freddie had appeared behind Dixie and was now between them, his arms wrapped comfortably around their waists.
‘Let me escort the two most beautiful women in New York State to the music. You, Ana, are going to love this.’
Ana allowed herself to be led down the steps and along the hedgerow, which led them to the side of the house. Ana loved to dance, but her sobriety concerned her. Would she be able to let go without a skinful? She guessed she’d have to learn if she was going to adapt to motherhood.
‘What kind of music are we having? I was really enjoying the jazz quartet.’
‘Me too, but this is something a little more rock and roll.’
Looking at Freddie, tall and dapper in his tailored dinner suit, a slightly effeminate James Bond figure, Ana picked him for some kind of prog-rock fanatic. He probably felt intensely about Pink Floyd and ELO. Ana liked to grind to Beyoncé.
They followed a trail of tiki torches down a gravel pathway that led them into a secret garden surrounded by a ten-foot-high hedge. A small stage was set up and the PA was playing Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’ and despite herself, Ana felt a little jiggle coming on. She was relieved that Freddie’s hand stayed on her waist. Too many of Dixie’s men would have stooped to cop a feel. Maybe she had found a good one. Their eyes met and Ana could see that Dix was almost bursting with happiness.
When some of his friends appeared, Freddie pulled Dixie away and they began to dance and sing beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, Ana could see Stella was holding court at the small Waikiki Bar, set up in the corner of the garden, beneath full-sized, up-lit palm trees. She was toasting the crowd with what looked like a piña colada plus all the trimmings: multiple straws and umbrellas, and a dangerous-looking sparkler. She was pleased to see she was having fun, but she couldn’t help worrying.
The stage was obscured by the spotlights that shone out over the assembling crowd, but Ana could see silhouettes gathering on the stage. The PA was still playing Dolly Parton, and the dance floor was roaring approval. Ana couldn’t tell whether the fun and laughter were ironic or not, but decided it didn’t matter: laughter is always good. Then she saw that Stella was weaving towards the dance floor, now with a piña colada in each hand.
The song ended and the crowd gathered, fidgeting as they do between acts. As voices competed to fill the Dolly vacuum, Ana withdrew slightly and was on the point of returning to the big house when she heard a harmony she recognised.
She froze.
She turned.
The harmony continued. The one she’d been humming back in Dixie and Freddie’s condo.
She knew that song, but…
The stage was framed by lights and the band were now backlit. To the right was a drummer, to the left a bass player, and to the centre the silhouette of a tall man in a Stetson with an acoustic guitar.
It was a Van Morrison cover. It was that Van Morrison cover.
The singer began to sing ‘Have I Told You Lately’ and something grew inside Ana, filling her with a warm chill. Her spine tingled, her stomach was hollow, and the hairs on her arms and neck stood. She felt sick.
It was him. She was excited and terrified. She was shaking. She didn’t know how to clear her head. This could not be happening.
That voice. The husky intimacy. It took her right back to that hotel in Maine as if he were whispering it to her, his breath hot on her ear.
She looked around and saw Dixie to one side of her and Stella to the other, both watching, smiling. Their eyes were gleaming with tears. She realised that hers were too. This was too much.
Her eyes were drawn to the stage as the lights came up on Joel. His stare was on her. He was smiling. He lifted his hat in acknowledgement, and then grabbed the microphone.