Greenwich Park(48)

‘What does that mean? I didn’t think Rory and Serena had any faults, according to you.’

I shake my head, pawing at my eyes again. ‘Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. Go and annoy someone else. I need to clean this wall. The one your friends have ruined.’

Charlie is barely listening. He puts his arm around me, kisses me drunkenly on the temple. His stubble is scratchy.

‘Look at you, sis! A thousand months pregnant and you’re hosting a cool party! People are having a good time!’

I wriggle free, push him away. Tell him to buzz off.

Later, as I bend to collect more beer cans from my herb garden, I feel a gathering sense of heaviness in my limbs, so much so that I doubt for a moment whether I’ll be able to haul myself up again. I’m tired. So tired. Too tired to protest. Too tired to make my stand. I decide I will just go with it. Let Charlie and Daniel have this one silly night, before the baby comes. Things will be different after that.

At least tonight I won’t have to think too much about Rachel. I haven’t seen her since this afternoon, actually. Maybe she’s done one of her disappearing acts.

I put my hand to my temple; it feels as if my head might be about to explode. Even if she does turn up, I tell myself, it’ll hardly make a difference. She’ll find someone else to talk to, one of Charlie’s strange friends, probably. I’ll just stay out of her way. For once, she’ll be the least of my worries.

I am wrong about that, as it turns out.





KATIE





I take another sip of Helen’s mulled wine, exhale deeply. Charlie and Rachel are talking by the bookcase, away from everyone else. She seems all right now, I think, slightly bitterly. Her neck seems to have cleared up. Just a few little blotches of yellowy green, almost nothing.

Rachel is holding a glass in one hand and a straw in the other, swirling the ice cubes around coquettishly. She is wearing a blue velvet dress, sort of old-fashioned, and shoes that tie in bows at the backs of her ankles. As she and Charlie talk, she tilts her head to one side. The music is loud, and she says something into his ear, leaning close so that her lips graze the edges of his skin. I hear him laugh his real laugh. And then as he brings his hand to his mouth, I swear he just brushes against the side of her body, his fingers against her waist. Maybe. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe not.

He does this, Charlie. He does something to women. He could be talking to you about anything – the weather, the wine, the carpet. It’s the way he looks at you when he does it. Makes you feel as if the rest of the world is spinning, and he is the only fixed point. I should know. He has been doing it to me since we were both at school. But he shouldn’t do it. Not to this strange, pregnant girl, I think. He shouldn’t.

The more I hear about Rachel, the odder it all sounds. Apparently, she is still living here with Helen and Daniel. When I asked Helen about it, she seemed defensive. She said something about her being vulnerable. Someone hurting her, or something like that. That she needed a safe place to stay. ‘Anyway, it’s not for long. She’s promised she’s leaving, in the next couple of weeks.’ I wanted to ask more about the marks on her neck, but Helen’s expression stopped me delving further.

My wine is disappearing faster than it should be. It’s sweet and spicy; the taste of Christmas. I think Helen is pleased someone is drinking it. I wonder if she realises that some of the other people here are indulging in less wholesome substances. I am not sure Charlie has kept his promise about not inviting too many people.

As I look at Charlie and Rachel, I think about years ago, when Charlie and I broke up the first time, and he introduced us all to Maja. I’d been the one to end things between us, so I’d no right to be hurt. But he’d moved on so quickly. And then there was Maja, and everyone loved her, her wide, mischievous smile, her Swedish drinking games, her mad midsummer parties. I had to smile, pretend to go along with it. And then, after what seemed like hardly any time at all, she was pregnant – a happy accident, they’d said – and I realised too late that I’d made a mistake.

It feels like a long time ago now, all that stuff. I take another deep drink of the wine. Maybe I’m stupid, thinking we can try again now, after all this time, that things can go back to the way they were, before all that. Maybe I need to grow up, find an ordinary man, like Daniel. A house, a baby. Somehow, though, the thought makes me feel slightly depressed.

I don’t notice the two drunk girls dancing behind me until it’s too late, and they are careering into me. My remaining mulled wine is splattered across the rug on the floor. Fuck. They apologise and disappear. I blush, hoping Charlie and Rachel haven’t seen me. I’m too drunk, I think, already. I decide to leave them to it. They are only talking, for God’s sake. I need to go somewhere else. I need to pull myself together.

The bathroom upstairs is locked. I can hear someone inside. I wait, and finally the door opens. It’s Serena. So they are here. I take in her manicured nails, long, buttery, Hollywood hair, her perfect half-moon stomach. She is clutching one of those jewelled bags that looks too small to put anything in.

‘Hello, Katie.’

‘Hi,’ I slur. ‘How’s it all going?’ I motion clumsily to her belly, and she gives me a tight smile.

‘Fine thanks,’ she says. She swishes past, her long silk dress trailing behind. ‘See you later.’