The Things We Do to Our Friends(34)

But there was something else too. A sick kind of relief that it was out in the open.

I forced myself to analyze the evening, pick apart the ending. When it came to what Ava had done, there was no reason to tear me down so casually like that, her legs crossed, her face blandly apologetic as if she’d stepped on my toe. It became clear to me that they saw it as a business decision. So very strategic of Ava to bring it up in that moment, showing me in an instant that Tabitha planned to hold those unfortunate events over me.





26


We didn’t have any kind of dramatic showdown that night. I needed time to think, and it took all my effort to hold everything in, but I managed it. Walked away from Ava without a word and went to bed. A restless night’s sleep followed, and I woke to the taste of iron where I’d bitten through the skin at the side of my mouth.

The next day I got up early. The dew was still sitting on the grass as we lay out in the garden. Tabitha and me. Alone, side by side, both with sunglasses on, and with coffee brewed too strongly and served black. Water and stale croissants from yesterday’s bakery run sat between us. The others hadn’t surfaced yet, and we’d chosen the bottom of the garden, basking next to the pond as the temperature rose. I could smell the scent that always reminds me of France to this day—the smell of dusty heat. A foul stench rose from the water as well, and it hung in the air because there was no wind to whisk it away.

Under a scrap of a bikini, Tabitha was a slick of white paint, like she’d never seen a minute of the sun. In contrast, my skin started to tan straightaway, but we still looked alike. No one could deny that. Tall and blond. She was focused on youthful preservation and proceeded to coat every inch of herself in a thick layer of sunscreen. When she had finished, she went to retrieve a laptop from inside the house.

I didn’t know if I should bring it up. Ava had said not to, but I wanted to, badly. To try to somehow explain what had happened and give her some kind of assurance that I wasn’t a criminal.

I nearly did, very nearly asked her what she knew, how much she thought she knew, but the words wouldn’t come. Where would I have begun? I needed it to stay hidden, and if I mentioned the past, we could never come back from it. It would linger. There would be questions.

Luckily, there wasn’t much need for me to speak. She wanted to set the agenda. She showed me some mock-ups of a website. It was far more professional than I’d expected—artful graphics—but no company name and almost no information.

“We don’t want to say too much. Word of mouth is better, really, and we have a great network in London. We have a client in mind, so we’ll try to meet her when we’re ready, in a few months.”

I nodded, eyes closed as the sun shone down so I could see the blood in my eyelids. I wondered what she knew about what had happened, how she’d discovered it. She would have had to have known someone; this wasn’t just a case of digging about on the internet, she would have needed contacts with access. But, at the same time, I suspected she could have done it, especially as her mother lived here.

I forced myself to concentrate. “How will that work?” I asked.

“Very straightforward! We’ll meet her, see what she requires, scope it out, and agree on a fee.” She grinned, rolling over on the grass to face me. “We need to transform ourselves—well, whichever of us she thinks will work best, she’ll know exactly how to play it. It’s all about our characters. We’ll become a character each time.”

“Surely if we’re adapting to become whatever these men want, that’s…cheating the system?”

It was odd: because of what she knew of Périgueux, we were freer with each other and my sentences were easier, less labored.

“Oh, the system—so now you think there’s a system!” She laughed. “It isn’t fair, Clare. Who said it was going to be fair? None of life is fair. I don’t think it’s fair that I’m essentially being cut off after university.”

I hadn’t known this, but it made sense. I stored the information away for later.

Then her hand was pressed against my neck. Tabitha touched in a way that was so natural, like you were an extension of her.

“We might as well try it. What do we have to lose?” she said.

“What about Imogen?” I asked.

“What about her?”

“I thought she was going to be involved too?”

Tabitha raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. We’ll be flexible. I’m not sure she’s cut out for it, but you’re like me. You know how to be glorious—like a peacock or a hawk! Imogen’s just…Imogen, isn’t she?”

Was there ever a more scathing assessment?

“I don’t know if I’m anything like you,” I said.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, of course you are. Have you seen how similar we look? Apart from the tan.”

“Is this what the haircut was about?” I asked. It seemed so obvious.

She looked amused. “That was a treat because I wanted you to feel good about yourself and I thought it might loosen you up a little! We met you, and we liked you, but I was interested to see how far you’d go.” She switched from earnest to soft. “I know last night was a shock, but I didn’t know how else to do it. The rest of us have all been working on this for so long, I wanted to position the whole concept to you in the right way.”