The Reunion, page 9
Ten
Now 19.00
5 hours to go
My gaze swings wildly around, checking for exits. In a room full of almost two hundred people, I feel cornered. I didn’t expect him to have this effect on me, but looking at him in the doorway, the light gilding his face, the whole idea of being here seems flawed. The plans Helen and I have made seem juvenile, outlandish even. I’ll go back home and I’ll go to the police, the way I should have done in the first place. I stand up and push the bar stool away, hoping nobody will notice my legs are wobbling. I need to get out of here.
‘Nick? Why don’t we slope off and give tonight a miss?’
‘What?’ Nick takes another swig of his drink.
‘We’ve come, we’ve shown our faces. Why don’t we head back to the hotel and make the most of the room?’ I try to raise my eyebrows seductively. Nick looks as if I’ve just cancelled Christmas. ‘We won’t miss much. Formal hall food is always crap, anyway. It always has been.’
Will’s circulating now, working the tables nearest the door and greeting everyone by name. I see people opening up to him, their faces lit up as he says something to make them smile. He’s a born baby-kisser; the consummate politician. I think of the scrapes he got the Odies out of. Henry threw money at situations; Will used charm. He always knows what to say.
I don’t want to see him. Coming here was supposed to make me feel stronger but I feel weaker instead. Memories I don’t want to think about are already flooding my brain. The four of us lounging by the pool, the time we climbed on to the roof of the student bar and watched the sun come up. The good ones are almost more painful than the bad. And undercutting it all: guilt. Because I know on some level my actions kicked everything off. If I’d never thrown that drink… I stroke Nick’s sleeve, trying to keep the pleading tone out of my voice. ‘We could get room service, kick back, watch a movie, relax. Since you got back from Houston, I’ve barely seen you.’
Nick sets his jaw the way he does whenever I bring up Houston. ‘Emily, at the risk of sounding like a dick, I think you’re overreacting a bit. I know you’re nervous but nobody even remembers that far back. Anyway, who among us hasn’t got batfaced and done something they’re not proud of? I know I have.’ He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at his curls. ‘Why don’t we stay for a bit longer and see if we can have a nice evening. I guarantee people aren’t thinking what you think they’re thinking. Stick with me and it’ll be fine. I see a couple of people from my lab group that we could catch up with.’ He points to a trio of bespectacled men nursing half-full champagne flutes and looking out of place. I know he’s consciously picked the least intimidating people in the hall. ‘Shall we go over?’
Will’s drawing closer. Any minute now and he’ll be upon us. My breath feels trapped in my chest and I can feel acid from my stomach edging up my throat. I’ve never had a panic attack but I imagine this is what they feel like. I can’t be here. This man destroyed me. Henry and Lyla betrayed me, but what Will did was worse. In a funny way, he was the one I trusted the most.
‘I’m going to go outside and get some air.’ I detach my hand from Nick’s arm. ‘I’ll give your mum a call to check on the kids.’
‘You’re not going for a cheeky fag, are you?’
He eyes my evening bag. A few months ago, he found the emergency packet I keep in one of the kitchen cupboards. I haven’t smoked properly for years but I keep it for those days when the kids are being too much. Nothing raises two fingers to parenthood like the illicit pleasure of standing at the edge of the patio and lighting up while your children are upstairs in bed.
I’ve got about a minute before Will reaches us.
‘I’ve given up.’
‘Well, if you are going to speak to Mum,’ Nick begins. I feel my leg start to pulse. Now is not the time for a shopping list of parental concerns. ‘Remind Xander that he needs to leave his footie kit out if he wants me to do his boots before—’
‘I will.’ I’m already starting to move.
‘And don’t forget to—’
I nod and duck away, like a fish slipping through a net. Behind me, I hear Will’s banter. ‘Nick Toller! And where’s your missus off to? I haven’t seen her for about a decade.’
I pick up my pace. Will’s voice has been described as the audio equivalent of a six-pack and a killer smile. A journalist from the Sunday Times went nuts for it. To me it’s nails on a blackboard.
I hurry towards the fire exit at the back of the room, hoping it isn’t alarmed. I can’t go out of the main entrance because it means passing the anteroom. I managed it on the way in because I was with Nick. I don’t want to go past it on my own. My heart is beating at about sixty miles an hour. I hate the idea of Nick and Will in conversation. I keep my eyes down, counting the flagstones on the floor to calm me and almost bang straight into a petite woman with glossy chestnut curls and a Roland Mouret Galaxy dress walking in the opposite direction. She’s towing the man next to her along as if he’s a dog on a lead. He is so tall and broad that he looks like a gorilla in a suit.
I see her shoes with their blood-red soles like the ones Nick bought me for Christmas – and manage to swerve just in time.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say automatically.
‘Don’t worry about it, Emily.’ There’s something disparaging about the way she says my name. She looks familiar but I can’t place her. Nick’s idea that I could be anonymous is ridiculous. I may as well be wearing a scarlet letter.
I don’t bother to stop and look at her badge. I want to get out of here. I say sorry again and step round her. After they’ve bustled off, I realise why she looks familiar. That was Liz, Nick’s college girlfriend. The hair might look less like she’s been electrocuted but the watchful eyes and air of busyness were the same. I don’t turn back. I punch a number into my phone and keep walking. There’s only one person I want to speak to and it’s not Luci.
Straight to voicemail. I listen to my sister’s voice, telling me to leave a message after the beep and that she’ll get back to me. I press my teeth into the soft flesh of my cheek and try to think what she would say if she answered. I picture her at our scrubbed-pine kitchen table instead of Luci, hands curled around a cup of tea while the kids lounge on the sofa next door, and want to be there so badly it hurts.
At least I’ve bought myself some time. If I can’t speak to Helen, I can always try Tiff instead. I just want to speak to someone who gets me. I pick up my pace and start striding away from the college, back towards the meadows behind this strip of buildings, where the grass is longer. My feet are killing me. This is why I never wear heels, no matter how many pairs Nick treats me to. ‘That and the fact that you’re married to a midget,’ as Helen would say, uncharitably. She and Nick often butt heads. He thinks she’s a man hater; she thinks I let him make all the decisions. They’re probably both right.
I key in the number.
Tiff answers straight away. ‘S’up?’
I launch in without preamble. ‘Ugh, I don’t know if I can do this.’
She knows exactly what I’m talking about. ‘Bullshit. Of course you can.’
It might seem disloyal that I’ve been open with Tiff in a way that I haven’t been with Nick. But Tiff and I have always had that kind of relationship. We used to work together. Aside from that job, our lives have never intersected, which makes us each other’s perfect secret keepers. And because our lives don’t overlap, there’s never been any rivalry. We trust each other. When she was cheating on her boyfriend, I was the person she told. Not her sister, not her childhood best friend. Me. And I never once judged. That’s the other thing we offer each other. No judgement. When I told her what I was planning tonight, her eyes widened. But that was the only reaction she gave.
‘Seriously, I mean it. I don’t know if I can do it. I can’t even be in a room with them.’
‘And I mean it. You can do anything you want.’
‘It’s this place. Being back here. It makes me feel like less than I am.’
‘If it were easy, everybody would be doing it.’
‘Any more platitudes you want to share?’
‘Not all heroes wear capes? This too shall pass? Don’t hate the player, hate the game,’ she rattles off. ‘And don’t get all pissy with me. I’m on your side.’
‘I know you are.’ I bite my lip. ‘I guess I didn’t think it would be this hard.’
‘Yes, you did. That’s why you left it fifteen years.’
‘Seeing them all again…’ I trail off. ‘They’ve all done so much. And I… haven’t.’
‘You’ve got a lovely husband, two gorgeous kids. A life some people could only dream of.’
‘I know.’ I flush guiltily. ‘I know I’m lucky. But when I come back here, it doesn’t seem enough.’
‘Okay, let me lay it out for you.’ There’s a muffled sound. ‘Give me two seconds.’
‘What are you doing?’ I feel instantly guilty. ‘I’m sorry, have I interrupted something? Are you on a hot date?’
‘Why is it you married people always imagine I’m on a hot date? A hot date with my stove.’ Tiff laughs her rich throaty laugh and I feel instantly grounded. I can picture her standing over the stove top, wooden spoon in hand, multiple pots gurgling. ‘I just needed to take something off the heat. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, your free therapy. Of course, you’re going to feel inadequate going back there. It’s Cambridge, darlink. But you’re in control of this.’
‘But what if—’
‘What if nothing! Do you know when I first met you I thought you were this quiet little mouse? I used to dread shifts with you. It took about six months to discover you had a personality and that was only because that drunk guy with the spaghetti spilled his wine all over you. I had no idea you’d even been to university, let alone Cambridge. So tonight is not about what you have or haven’t done. It’s about you as a person. Go in there and kick some butt.’
‘Kick some butt? You know you’re not actually American just because you watch Scandal, right?’
‘Doesn’t mean I’m not right.’ I can picture Tiff shaking her head, her dreadlocks clicking. ‘So, are you going to do it?’
‘Yes,’ I say doubtfully.
She puts on a stern voice. ‘I said, are you going to do it?’
‘Oh my God, you sound like one of those dreadful children’s entertainers who makes them all say hello about a thousand times until he’s worked them up into being all shouty. But at least you’ve made me laugh.’
‘Happy to help. Seriously, though, you got this.’
‘What if I crack under pressure?’
‘As far as I see it, there is no pressure. You’ve done the hard bit, right? You showed up. I thought all you had to do now was play the stuff on your phone?’
‘That’s the pressure,’ I say. ‘What if I mess it up?’
‘You won’t.’
‘But what if I do?’ I scratch at the skin just underneath my Tiffany cuff.
‘You’ve got to believe in yourself,’ Tiff clicks her tongue. ‘I don’t know why you give yourself such a hard time about everything. If you knew the mistakes I made on a daily basis – yesterday I sent a reply-all email about grabbing a coffee to the entire company. I just rolled with it. We’re all human. Even you.’
Inspiration strikes.
‘Tiff, you’re a genius.’
‘It has been said.’
‘I mean it.’ I stop scratching and start pacing instead. ‘I know exactly what to do. Gotta go.’
‘Call me any time, you nutter,’ I can hear Tiff saying, but I’m already taking the phone away from my ear. ‘Don’t worry about waking me up.’
‘I will,’ I shout just before I hang up.
I’m so pumped up that I tap in my passcode wrong the first time but second time lucky I open up my Gmail app. It takes only a few minutes to set up an anonymous account. Once I’ve done that, I take the file out and drag it into an email, addressed to the entire reunion class list. I press the schedule send option and select midnight. Nick and I should be safely tucked up in bed by then. I don’t want to be around when this bomb goes off. I tell myself I can delete it at any point in the next five hours; it’s only an insurance policy. One that can go straight to the police in the morning. Before then, I will have played that presentation on Will’s stupid flatscreen. But just in case I don’t, this way justice will be done.
I snap my handbag shut and start towards the Great Hall. The buildings glowing against the inky sky light the way and I feel righteous, like I’m on a mission. It seems ridiculous that the sight of Will was enough to drive me out. I clip my way across the gravel, mount the steps to the hall and breeze past the anteroom with my head held high just in time to see my waitress collide with Lyla, tipping a trayful of red wine glasses all over her fuchsia dress. I have to physically stop myself from clapping my hands. I’d only asked her to spill a glass; she’s taken the idea and run with it. Lyla has that effect on people. It’s the best £100 I’ve ever spent. I must raid Nick’s wallet later and see whether there’s any more cash I can give the stroppy waitress. She looks completely unfazed when Lyla starts shouting at her, gesticulating at the stain and waving her hands. I watch the stain eating into the dress, spreading across the material like a blood stain. There’s something so perfect about Lyla having a drink tipped over her tonight. It’s as though life has gone full circle. Perhaps I’m not that different from the girl I was back then, the girl who was brave enough to take down someone who wronged her. Because, tonight, after a fifteen-year hiatus, I get to be her again.
Eleven
Then
‘Jesus, you made me jump out of my skin. What are you doing here in the dark?’ I ask. ‘You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’
‘One woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure.’ Will gives me a pantomime wink and I can’t help smiling. His hair is sticking up in all directions and his tie is askew. He looks like he’s been climbing trees. I wouldn’t put it past him. I swear he’s got ADHD; he can never sit still. Now I can see that it’s him, the room seems less creepy. The dim light flickering overhead makes the room seem almost cosy. I wonder how desperate you have to be to think that a glorified dungeon is like a refuge.
‘Cool shoes.’ Will nods at them. ‘If you click your heels do they send you home?’
‘I wish. Seriously, what are you doing in here?’ I start rummaging through boxes for the wine I hope might be in here. I find stacks of tea, sachets of coffee and empty glasses. But no wine. ‘It’s a bit weird lurking here in the dark. Like a bat. Though I suppose you’d have to be upside down to be a bat.’
‘Better a bat than a ball. A human wrecking ball, that is.’ Will raises the bottle of port in an ironic salute. ‘Hell hath no fury, right?’
The last wave of the adrenalin leaves my body like a balloon deflating. Of course, he knows. He probably knew what Henry was going to do before I did. I open my mouth to say something clever and burst into tears instead.
‘Shit. Sorry, Emmy, I was only messing with you.’ Him calling me Emmy makes me cry harder. When Henry found out that’s what I used to be called as a child, he latched on to it. It’s what they all call me. I feel tears leaking out of my eyes and running out of my nose.
Will crosses the room, throws the bolt on the door and then comes over and circles a clumsy arm around me. ‘Come on, mate. Hawksmoor isn’t worth your tears. And neither is she. He should know better.’
‘I’m such an idiot. I made a total fool of myself.’
‘From where I was standing, she’s the one who looked like a dick, not you. Mind you, I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I’ve always had a soft spot for a Breezer myself.’
I don’t know how to laugh and cry at the same time so I hiccough instead.
‘You’re worth ten of her. Probably more. I mean, not monetarily, obviously, she’s got buckets of cash. But in every other way.’
I smile through the tears. Even though it’s pathetic, hearing that Will’s on my side makes me feel better.
‘I’m sorry. I’m being so lame.’ I didn’t even cry when my mum died; Helen said we were stronger than that. I’m not going to shed tears for this. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute.’
‘You’re too good for him, Emmy.’
‘Yeah, well, whatever. Clearly not.’ I find a scrap of tissue in the pocket of my shorts and rub my eyes. I’m probably smearing my makeup across my face but I don’t care any more. I look at the door. I wish I really could click my heels and go home. Much as I appreciate Will’s loyalty, I want to be back in my room, curled under my duvet with the rest of the world shut out. ‘I should get going.’
‘Don’t let those dicks chase you away. Stay and have a drink.’ Will rattles the bottle at me. I can hear the liquid sloshing around at the bottom.
‘I’m all right. I don’t like port anyway.’
‘She doesn’t like port.’ Will shakes his head in mock horror. ‘How can you come to Cambridge and not drink port? It’s at the end of every fancy dinner we’ve ever had. It’s the only thing in this place that’s free, for Christ’s sake.’
