I’ve gone for a smart/casual summery look for dinner, with a zig-zag-patterned maxi dress and flat sandals, jazzing it all up with a trio of pearl bracelets in blue tones, and a platinum twist pendant set with a sapphire.
‘Isn’t that the necklace Edward bought you?’ Alice sits on the bed, her eyes meeting mine in the dressing-table mirror as I apply a coat of mascara. Her tone is cautious; she knows I don’t like to talk about my ex.
I screw the lid back onto the mascara and place my fingertips on the necklace at my throat. ‘Yes.’ The necklace is simple yet stunning and was a present for our one-year anniversary. I’d been astounded, both by the beautiful gift and the fact I was in a long-term relationship. It hadn’t happened before; three months had seemed of epic proportions before Edward.
‘I didn’t know you’d kept it.’
I pop the mascara into my cosmetic bag, refusing to meet Alice’s eye again. ‘I must have missed it in the cull. I only found it a couple of weeks ago, hiding in the bottom of my jewellery box.’
Alice tucks her legs underneath her, so she’s sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed. ‘Do you ever think about him?’
‘You know I don’t.’ I rifle in the bag for a rose-pink lip gloss, locating it underneath an eyeshadow palette. I brush it onto my lips with the wand, ignoring Alice’s gaze, which I know is boring into me. She thought I was mad when I ended my relationship with Edward, but although I knew she wanted to tell me what a huge mistake I was making, she’d respected my decision. I think she assumed I’d come to my senses once I got over the shock of my mother’s death and get back together with him, but when the news broke that he was engaged to a Canadian woman and was moving across the Atlantic to be with her, it scuppered that belief. The speed with which Edward had moved on only proved my point that we weren’t meant to be, but it did crazy stuff to Alice. She’d already started setting me up on unnecessary blind dates, but this only intensified when she read Edward’s Facebook status update, as though she was desperate to fill an Edward-shaped hole in my life. The problem is, he didn’t leave a hole at all. I’m better off on my own. Always have been.
‘Why are you so interested in my necklace, anyway?’ I reach behind my neck to unclasp it. ‘You’re not thinking of swiping it for your ill-gotten collection, are you?’
I’m only kidding, trying to divert her attention away from a conversation about Edward, but I see Alice’s mouth fall open through the mirror’s reflection, her eyes widening and pooling with tears.
‘Alice, I’m so sorry.’ I twist around on my stool. ‘It was just a joke. A stupid joke, obviously, and not funny at all. I didn’t mean anything by it.’
Alice swallows hard. ‘It’s fine.’ She reaches for Hubert, her fingers rubbing at his worn ears. ‘Really, it’s fine.’ She leaps up off the bed as I stand up, squeezing past me with Hubert pressed into her chest. ‘I’m going to see if Carolyn needs any help with anything. Have a nice evening.’ Her chin has started to quiver, and I can see she’s blinking back tears.
‘Alice, wait.’ I feel awful. I am a shit friend. A thoughtless, shitty friend.
‘I’ll see you later.’ Her lips flicker into a brief, shaky smile. ‘At the quiz.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I call, but she’s already left the room.
I drop Edward’s necklace into my knicker drawer, burying it right into the corner before slamming it shut. I never should have kept it.
There’s a knock at the door and I’m hoping it’s Alice, so I can apologise again. But of course it isn’t. It’s Archie, bang on time, proffering a single rose. I briefly wonder if he’s pinched it from Tom’s garden, but of course that isn’t something Mr Perfect would do.
‘You look beautiful.’ Archie hands over the rose and kisses my cheeks three times before stepping into the room. He perches on the end of Alice’s bed while I sit at the dressing table, rooting inside my drawer for a replacement necklace. I opt for a cheap, chunky bead one that has no sentimental value whatsoever.
‘Ready to go?’ I’m keen to get this date over and done with, though a stab of guilt is urging me to play nice. I owe it to Alice to make this date go well.
We head down to the main entrance and I can’t help keeping an eye out for Alice. I should find her before we go, apologise for what I said.
‘Everything okay?’ Archie is holding the heavy wooden doors open but my feet are still planted on the plush carpet on the bottom step.
‘Yes.’ I plaster a smile on my face and, after giving the entrance hall one last search, forge ahead, following Archie down the steps to where his car – a silver, sleek number – is waiting for us on the gravel.
‘I brought it round earlier.’ Archie presses the button on his fob as he springs down the steps.
‘I assumed we’d be walking.’ I follow Archie at a much slower pace, mindful of the tripping hazard of my dress’s long skirt. ‘Alice says it’s only a few minutes’ walk away.’
‘Why walk when you can travel in style?’ Archie opens the passenger door and indicates that I should get in with an elaborate sweep of his hand. I climb in as gracefully as I can, making sure my dress doesn’t catch in the door as Archie swings it shut again.
‘Have you been down into the village?’ he asks as he slips into the seat next to me.
‘Not really. We drove through it on the way, but that’s about it, other than karaoke in the pub last night.’
‘How about we take the scenic route then?’
Archie starts the engine, pulling his seatbelt across as the car surges forward, spitting gravel as we fly towards the iron gates, the lawns and perfectly pruned rosebushes nothing but a blur as we whizz by. I’m sure I catch sight of a Tom-shaped haze as we near the gates, but I can’t be sure. I haven’t seen Tom since the rounders game this afternoon, where my team was utterly, embarrassingly, thrashed. Piers had stormed off after the game, leaving the rest of us to lug the chairs and equipment back inside.
Music blares out of the car at eardrum-splitting levels now, but luckily Archie reaches forward to turn it off before it does any real damage. We dip down the hill so fast we might as well be on a roller-coaster and I grip the dashboard accordingly.
‘Sorry.’ Archie flashes me a sheepish look as he slows at the bottom of the hill and turns into a narrow street lined with a terrace of little cottages either side. We pass the church Alice and I saw on the way in, turning into the little square with a cobbled community garden housing a concrete cross standing proud on top of a stone column in the centre.
‘That’s the war memorial.’ Archie points at the stone structure. ‘First World War. Alice’s great-great-uncle is on there. Horatio Rafferty Monroe. How’s that for a super-posh name?’
‘And what’s Archie short for? Archibald?’ I nudge him playfully with my elbow. ‘Hardly common, that one.’
He cringes as we turn on to the next stretch of the square. ‘My middle names are Diggory and Loveday.’
I can’t help it – I burst out laughing, throwing my head back as it roars out of me.
‘Holy fudge, that is posh. Were you beaten up lots as a child?’ He wouldn’t have stood a chance at the scummy state school I attended. People were subjected to daily poundings for much less. I can still hear the taunts from the playground all these years later.
‘I was thrashed relentlessly.’ Archie turns to me and rolls his eyes. ‘Mostly by Alice and Carolyn. Girls are mean.’
‘Not all girls,’ I say, lifting my chin with mock huffiness.
‘Glad to hear it.’ Archie points ahead at one of the shops. ‘That’s the toy shop Hubert came from. Or at least it used to be a toy shop. What is it now?’ He slows down as we pass. ‘Tanning shop. Not quite the same.’ He shakes his head as we speed up again, though thankfully nowhere near the roller-coaster speed we clocked up earlier. ‘I can’t believe she still has Hubert. I wonder if Carolyn still has Violet – or Violent, as I used to call her. Drove poor Carolyn mad.’ Archie chuckles at the memory. ‘Alice chose the teddy and Carolyn went for this fugly doll. She loved the gruesome little thing. It somehow ended up in the stream, face down, and Carolyn was distraught until Alice jumped in and fished it out for her. I thought it was quite heroic at the time.’
We drive through the village, passing the canal, the cricket grounds with their pretty pavilion, and lots of picturesque houses. Archie regales me with stories from his childhood – and Alice’s – until we pull up outside the restaurant, which is housed in a mock-Tudor building. Inside, the wood-panelled walls are painted a deep red and with the dark-wood furniture and low lighting the limited space seems smaller still.
‘It looks lovely and cosy,’ I say once we’re seated at our table and the waiter has taken our drinks order.
Archie smiles wryly over his open menu. ‘It looks like a Harvester.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’ I ask and Archie laughs.
It wasn’t a joke.
‘Are you ready to order?’ the waiter asks when he eventually returns with a bottle of wine. He’s poured us each a glass before grabbing the pad and pencil from the pocket of his apron.
‘We were ready fifteen minutes ago,’ Archie says sharply, and I flinch. We have been left for a while, but still. The bloke’s just doing his job.
‘I’ll have the baked cheddar cheese soufflé starter, please.’ I smile sweetly at the waiter, who seems to be shrinking under Archie’s glare. ‘And the scampi in a basket.’
The waiter writes my order down painfully slowly, the tip of his pink tongue just visible between his lips. I hear Archie sigh. He’s drumming on the table with his fingers by the time the waiter finishes his careful note and looks at him expectantly.
‘The pâté, followed by the sirloin steak, medium rare. No tomato.’ Archie folds his menu and hands it to the waiter, who is still noting the order down. His eyes widen in panic as he sees the menu being thrust towards him. Placing the pencil between his teeth, he takes the menu and tucks it under one arm before completing his order-taking.
‘You should be nicer to the poor kid,’ I say as he scurries towards the kitchen. He’s tall and gangly and looks like he’s barely out of school. ‘Haven’t you ever had to wait tables?’
Of course not, I think as soon as the words are out of my mouth. How foolish. People with names like Archibald Diggory Loveday don’t wait tables. I doubt Archie had a part-time job to pay the bills while he was at uni.
‘Sorry. You’re right. I’ll leave him a big tip.’ Archie picks up his wine and takes a sip, his whole face screwing up as he swallows. ‘Jeez, I bet you could clean toilets with that swill.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ I say, even though I’ve already taken a sip while the waiter wrote what appeared to be an essay on his pad. The wine is awful and certainly not worth the price.
‘You’re right,’ Archie says, but he still pushes his glass away. He takes hold of my hand across the table. ‘It’s just I wanted everything to be perfect for our first date.’
I quirk an eyebrow. ‘First date?’
‘First of many, I hope.’ Archie picks up his glass of swill and raises it before taking a sip, wincing as it goes down. He’s still holding on to my hand and I’m trying to figure out how to politely move mine away when the waiter returns, clearing his throat to get our attention. His little face screws up as Archie sighs and turns towards him.
‘I’m afraid we’re all out of the sirloin steak.’ He nudges a menu towards Archie, who releases my hand so he can throw himself back in his chair.
‘Of course you are.’ Archie snatches the menu and has a quick look. ‘I’ll have the eight-ounce rump instead.’ Archie hands the menu back. ‘You do have the rump, don’t you?’
The waiter tucks the menu under his arm and nods profusely. ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. Pretty sure we do.’
‘Pretty sure?’
He nods profusely again while backing up towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll, er, just go and check.’ He turns and scurries away while Archie shakes his head slowly.
‘So, um, Carolyn and Piers,’ I say, determined to draw Archie’s attention away from the retreating waiter. ‘What’s the deal with them? They don’t seem very well suited.’
‘You’re joking, right?’ Archie, thankfully, peels his gaze away from the waiter. ‘They’re a perfect match.’
‘Really?’ So far, I’ve seen the opposite. Carolyn is fun and full of life, whereas her betrothed isn’t exactly a barrel of laughs. I’ve never even heard of some of the swears that left his mouth after we lost the game of rounders.
‘Absolutely. Their families are both equally as influential.’
By ‘influential’, I assume Archie means ‘loaded’, which doesn’t fill me with hope for their future. Yes, an abundance of money would be nice, but it can’t form the basis of a marriage, surely? At least not the happily-ever-after kind Alice is always banging on about.
‘Tell me more about the summers at the castle.’ I grab my glass of wine. It’s pretty vile, but it gives me something to do with my hands.
Archie has ample time to entertain me with stories of his summers with the Monroe sisters as our starters take an age to arrive. I’ve somehow worked my way through two large glasses of wine by the time my soufflé arrives and it doesn’t taste so bad any more, which is worrying.
‘How’s the pâté?’ I ask, knowing the answer when Archie looks up, his mouth a thin line as he presses his lips together. I know he’s trying – and failing – to come up with a positive answer. ‘The soufflé is delicious.’ Though this could be down to the fact I’ve been drinking paint-stripper wine.
Archie gives the pâté a go, having a couple of nibbles while I tuck into my soufflé. It takes another age before our main courses arrive and, when they do, Archie is further disappointed.
‘I asked for no tomato,’ he says as the waiter places the plate in front of him.
The waiter scratches the back of his neck. ‘Did you?’
‘Yes, I did. I hate tomatoes. Can’t stand them. I never eat tomatoes.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ The waiter ceases his neck-scratching, his hand darting forward as he plucks the grilled tomato from Archie’s plate. ‘Better?’
Uh-oh. The brown stuff is surely about to hit the fan. I top my glass up from the bottle, draining it as I slowly slide down in my seat, preparing for the eruption.