When You Are Mine(75)

I swallow a mouthful of air that gets trapped in my throat, making it hard to breathe.

‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ I whisper.

‘I know, but even if you get reinstated, they’ll make your life a misery. That’s what happens.’

It’s exactly what I said to Helgarde, but it’s hard hearing it from Henry. I need him in my corner, telling me I can still win.

‘I want a proper wedding,’ I whisper. ‘I want my father to walk me down the aisle and my mother to call a truce for a day, and Archie to carry the ring.’

‘OK, but after that, we can go.’

‘What about the house?’

‘We’ll rent it out.’

‘My passport might be out-of-date.’

‘Apply for a new one.’

He has a vaguely enigmatic smile on his face.

‘What are you hiding?’

He leans over and opens the bedside drawer, producing an envelope. Inside are two British Airways ticket vouchers.

‘Booked and paid for,’ he says.

‘For when?’

‘Whenever you’re ready.’

My phone pings. Carmen has sent me a message, asking where I am. We had arranged to meet for coffee. Another appointment missed. I’m letting things slip.

She won’t take no for an answer. We meet at a café in Barnes, not far from the bookshop she manages. In the park across the road, mothers are rocking prams, toddlers are feeding ducks and old people are doing tai chi beneath the trees. This part of London feels like a village rather than a piece of the urban jigsaw.

She wobbles to her feet and we hug. Her pregnancy presses against my stomach.

‘I feel like a whale.’

‘Are you nervous?’

‘Not really.’

‘This is what you always wanted – a husband, a nice house, a family.’

‘Does that make me weird? Some women think that choosing a family over a career is conforming to the patriarchy. Surrendering my independence.’

‘Stop listening to Georgia.’

‘It’s not just her. I was at a prenatal class the other day and I heard some of the other women talking about how quickly they wanted to get back to work. When I said I was going to stay at home, they looked at me like I was a Stepford Wife. How are women supposed to win? Either we feel guilty about going back to work and missing milestones, or guilty about staying at home and betraying the sisterhood.’

‘You’re overthinking this.’

‘You wouldn’t give up your career.’

What career?

We change the subject. Georgia is arranging a girls’ night out, which I’m refusing to call a hen night; because I want something classy, not debauched, and I will withdraw wedding invitations if anyone asks me to wear fairy wings or matching T-shirts, or a stupid hat.

‘Is it all right if we don’t invite Tempe?’ asks Carmen, looking at me sheepishly. ‘It’s just that … she’s not really an old friend, or part of …’

‘The gang?’ I suggest.

‘Yeah.’ She takes a deeper breath. ‘The other girls think she’s a bit of a Karen.’

‘She’s not entitled or shrill.’

‘No, but she seems rather fake. The stories she tells. Her comments. They’re always a little bit off.’

‘She’s trying hard to be liked.’

‘Maybe that’s the problem. Remember the other week when Sara had her hair cut and dyed, and everyone was saying how good she looked? Tempe went out and had her hair cut and coloured exactly the same way.’

‘She used the same stylist.’

‘But don’t you think that’s odd?’

‘OK, yes, I accept that she isn’t everybody’s cup of tea – but Tempe has done so much for me.’

‘I think we should have a rule about inviting new people into our group.’

‘What sort of rule?’

‘We can vote them out.’

‘We’re not playing Survivor,’ I laugh. ‘And I can’t tell Tempe to leave – not until after the wedding.’

‘OK, but we don’t have to tell her about our night out. We won’t put anything on social media. No photographs. No tweets. What she doesn’t know, can’t hurt her.’

I’m not hard to convince, but I still feel a pang of guilt. It’s like I’m nine years old and discovering that I’m the only girl in my dance class who hasn’t been invited to Erica Horner’s ice-skating party. I still don’t know what I did to upset Erica, but that’s why I withdrew from dancing and took up karate instead.

Years later, I bumped into Erica at Victoria station, waiting for a Circle Line train. My heart began to race and I was a child again, desperate to be accepted. She smiled warmly and gave me a hug. The train arrived. We sat side by side, making small talk about university and families. I desperately wanted to ask her why she didn’t invite me to the party, but it seemed childish, like holding a grudge that should have been discarded years ago. As the train came into Blackfriars station, we quickly swapped phone numbers and talked about getting a coffee, but as I ascended the escalator towards daylight, I looked at her contact details and hit delete.

I have been avoiding Tempe since the dishwasher incident. Carmen is right – there’s something not quite right about her. Maybe it’s the way she seems to ‘lean in’ to bad news, making all the right noises, but never sounding completely genuine. At other times, she goes out of her way to be nice about my girlfriends, but there is often a slight barb to her comments, or a double meaning that borders on passive aggression.