The Other Woman(34)

I said goodbye into the silence he left behind, and stood stock-still on the corner of Cabot Square, the bitter wind whistling around me, perplexed and staring at my phone.

I tried to concentrate on work, but there was a niggle at the back of my mind that I just couldn’t shake off. I’m in your area . . . ? Was he really, or was it more contrived than that? And if it was, why?





16

I don’t know why I didn’t tell Adam that James had called. I felt I should mention it, but was there really anything to tell? As James said, it was ‘no biggie’. Yet, had Adam called James’s girlfriend, on the off chance, just because he was passing, I’d have thought it spoke volumes. I was well aware there were double standards at work here.

I’d spent the three weeks since the ‘incident’ trying to apply the same grown-up attitude to the stalemate that remained between me and Pammie. What had happened was regrettable, but once I really thought about it, it occurred to me that the issue was far greater for Adam and his mum than it was for me. Yes, I was embarrassed, but I was merely a pawn caught in the middle. If, God forbid, it had happened the other way around, and it had been my mum that had seen what Pammie saw, I’d have been absolutely devastated. So, although I doubted that she’d ever be my favourite person in the world, I decided I’d try my utmost to make it up to her, when the time was right. Though I hadn’t expected to put my new-found philosophy to the test so soon.

We arranged to meet for lunch, the following Sunday, in a fish restaurant in Sevenoaks. ‘I think it would be better if we met on neutral territory,’ Pammie said. She made it sound like two heads of state were meeting in an attempt to stave off World War III. So, doing what we were told, as we always do, we met in Loch Fyne, just off the High Street. We parked up in a bay round the back of Marks & Spencer and Adam threw his arm around me as we cut through the passageway. It was a simple enough gesture, and one that he’d done a hundred times before, but when we’d not slept together for almost a month, his touch sent shivers through me. I’ll try again when we get home, I thought to myself. But there are only so many times you can keep putting yourself out there, knowing that you are going to be rejected. I keep a thin smile pasted onto my face and pretend it doesn’t matter, pulling him towards me for a cuddle, on the odd occasion he’ll let me. But it does matter. It really hurts, and once again, it’s all her fault.

A chilly breeze took me by surprise as we rounded the corner and I pulled my coat tightly around me, thankful for both it and the chunky-knit jumper I had on underneath. It wasn’t my most glamorous look, but I wasn’t feeling in the least bit glamorous. I hadn’t even bothered to wash my hair this morning. It was almost a waste of shampoo and conditioner, as she was going to make a derisory comment regardless, whether my hair was in a greasy ponytail or cascading over my shoulders in shiny, bouncy curls.

Even though we were five minutes late, I knew she wouldn’t be there. She never is. She likes to give it a good fifteen minutes before making her entrance, both to ensure she has everyone’s attention, and to save her feeling embarrassed whilst she waits on her own. There’s many a trick up Pammie’s sleeve, and I’ve learnt a few, but I imagine even I would be shocked if I knew them all.

‘So, are we going to talk about what happened?’ I asked Adam, as the ma?tre d’ took his coat. I opted to keep mine on until I’d thawed out a little.

‘No,’ was all I got in response.

‘But don’t you think it needs to—’

‘Jesus, Em. Just leave it alone. She’s been through enough. I’m sure she doesn’t need it to be raked up again. I know I sure as hell don’t.’

Oh, what a joy this was going to be. Two, possibly three, hours stuck between a woman who couldn’t stand the sight of me and a fiancé who couldn’t bear to be near me. It only occurred to me then, as we were sitting down at a booth-like table, that James might come along as well, to support his poor aggrieved mother. Great, could this get any worse?

Right on cue, a quarter of an hour after we’d arranged to meet, in came Pammie, her face a complicated mixture of love and hatred. She gave Adam a big hug as she greeted him.

‘Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you, I was beginning to wonder . . .’ She left it hanging there, and looked down to the floor with sad eyes for maximum effect.

‘And Emily?’ she said, turning to me, almost feigning surprise that I was there. ‘It’s been a while.’ Her tone was cold and she’d already turned away from me when she said, ‘But you’re looking well. You’ve put some weight on, which was much needed.’

I signalled to Adam, in the hope that he’d see my plight, but he just discreetly shook his head and looked back to her.

‘I haven’t, actually, it must just be this big coat and jumper.’ I said, pulling at the rib of it as if to prove its volume, but they were both already chatting about something else.

Three glasses of Pinot Grigio in, and it was just getting worse. It felt like they had their own private club, one which I didn’t have a membership to.

‘Oh, do you remember when you and James found those crabs on the beach in Whitstable?’ She laughed.

Adam grinned widely. ‘And we wrote our names on their backs and raced them.’

‘That’s right,’ she said, through an over-exaggerated fit of the giggles.