Michelle and I are meeting in Pizza Express. I couldn’t face the intensity of sitting round at hers. I need people around us. Distractions. I thought about telling her I was busy again. Even that I had a date. But I’ve used that excuse so often recently I’m worried she either thinks I’m avoiding her or she’ll be expecting me to introduce her to some new boyfriend soon. Invite her to the engagement party.
‘Let’s go out,’ I said when she invited me over to keep her company. She screwed her face up.
‘I don’t know if I can be bothered.’
‘I don’t mean to a night club, I just mean to grab something to eat. Just for a change.’
We arranged that she would come over my way because she had a meeting just up the road last thing. Pizza Express was the only restaurant we could think of that we both knew where it was, so it seemed like as good a place to meet up as any. I’m flapping a bit of powdered foundation over my face in a haphazard fashion when my phone buzzes.
‘Michelle is in reception for you,’ Ashley says when I answer.
‘She’s here? Why?’
‘Um,’ Ashley says. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘She’s not expecting me,’ I hear Michelle say. ‘Just tell her I was early. I can wait if she’s busy.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ I say. ‘I’ll come down.’
The thought of Michelle in my office makes me feel distinctly uncomfortable. I haven’t seen Bea since she shared her thoughts on the Rooms With a View edit with me, but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t leave without telling me she was going, even if she’s still in a bad mood. I’m hoping she’s hidden away in the toilets preparing for the date that I have no question she has this evening.
I can hear Michelle’s voice as I head down the stairs.
‘Whistles. But it was a couple of years ago.’
‘It’s a great colour.’ Bea says. I feel a wave of nausea. Not that I think there’s the slightest chance that Bea would give herself away. It’s just not right. The two of them making friendly conversation when Bea knows exactly who Michelle is but Michelle has no clue.
‘Hi,’ I say before I hit the bottom step. ‘I thought we were meeting in Pizza Express.’
I give her a hug.
‘I was early.’ She rolls her eyes as she says this. ‘I can wait, though, if you’re still busy.’
‘No, it’s fine, let’s go.’ I just want to get her out of there.
‘Plus I got the chance to finally meet the infamous Bea,’ Michelle says, smiling widely at her rival. ‘She’s been banging on for the past year about how amazing you are.’
Bea laughs. ‘Ha ha ha. I do my best.’
‘To hear Tamsin talk you’d think you were the second coming!’
‘And this is Ashley,’ I say, trying to change the subject.
‘I was just admiring Michelle’s dress,’ Bea says, a smile I know must be insincere on her face. ‘It’s so … cute.’
I pick up the condescending edge in her voice. Will Michelle not to take the bait. Of course she does, though. She’s Michelle, she can’t help being nice to everyone.
‘It would look fantastic on you with your figure.’
Do I imagine it or does Bea give a hint of a smirk. ‘Maybe I’ll have a look, see if they have anything similar. Although no one’s really doing that A-line thing this year.’
How mature. Have a love rival who’s a few years older than you? Have a dig at their fashion sense.
‘I can’t keep up.’ Michelle laughs with no hint of having been slighted.
‘Only idiots stick slavishly to fashion trends,’ I say with a bit too much vehemence. ‘It’s all just a ruse to make you spend more money.’
‘Oh I didn’t mean to—’ Bea says. ‘I just meant I probably wouldn’t be able to find it anywhere …’
I’m sure you did, I want to say. I’m sure you were just being friendly.
‘Where are you off to? Anywhere nice?’ Bea says with a smile.
‘Just for a pizza. Hardly a big night out.’
‘It’s fun just to hang out with your girlfriends sometimes, though, isn’t it? Leave the men to their own devices,’ Bea says and I want to slap her.
‘Shall we go?’ I say to Michelle. I just want to get out of there.
‘Sure. Nice to meet you both.’ Michelle picks up her bag and tucks her hair behind her ear. ‘Especially you, Bea, it’s good to put a face to the name after all this time.’
‘You, too. I’ve heard so much about you. Have a nice evening.’
‘Are you off out, too?’ Michelle says, ever polite. I want to physically push her out of the door.
Bea is all innocence. ‘Just meeting my boyfriend.’
‘Well have fun.’
‘Oh I will.’
Actually what I really want is to push Bea down the stairs.
‘See you tomorrow, Tamsin.’
‘Night,’ I manage to say. ‘Night, Ashley.’
‘She seems lovely,’ Michelle says as we step out onto the pavement. I pretend I don’t hear her.
Michelle looks happy. Like she’s got a secret. I feel as if she’s bursting to tell me something.
‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Confess.’ We’ve ordered. An American Hot for me and a Salad Niçoise for Michelle. I try to argue that there’s no point coming to a pizza place if you’re just going to have a salad, but she’s not having it. A big glass of white wine sits in front of each of us.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re up to something. Don’t even try and pretend you’re not.’
She gives me a big smile. ‘OK. I have totally not told you this. If Pad asks, that is. He thinks we shouldn’t say anything until it happens.’
I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. ‘Of course. Go on.’
‘We’re trying for a baby. Actually trying!’
Shit.
‘Actually, I shouldn’t be drinking this,’ she says, putting her wine glass to one side.
‘What’s made him change his mind?’
‘I have no idea. I suppose he just realized that it’s now or never.’
‘When? I mean … when did he tell you?’ I’m trying to keep an enthusiastic tone in my voice. Oh my God. How exciting.
‘Friday evening. You know I made him cancel football? I don’t know … we had a takeaway and some fizzy wine, and then he just said he’d changed his mind.’
I lean over and hug her. ‘That’s fantastic.’
Michelle brings me up to date with the baby-making progress (in toe-curling detail, I might add. There are charts involved and sperm-enhancing super-food drinks and post-coital legs up walls, that much I know. Anything that might increase the chances). I try to listen, but all I’m thinking about is what does this mean? If Michelle gets pregnant can I really step in and destroy her relationship with the baby’s father? Shit.
‘He’s really into it now,’ she says.
‘I’m not surprised. It sounds like a shag-a-thon. You should get sponsored.’
She rolls her eyes at me. ‘You know what I mean. The whole idea of a baby.’
‘I’m glad. I really am.’
‘Probably because at the moment I pounce on him and start ripping off his clothes the minute he walks through the door.’
‘Too much information. Way, way too much.’
‘It’s not as exciting as it sounds. It’s sex-with-a-purpose as opposed to sex-for-fun. There’s a big difference.’
A fleeting image pops into my head. Patrick looking at me intently, hand between my legs. I’ve become so adept at blocking out what happened between us that it takes me by surprise.
‘Don’t tell me any more or I won’t be able to look him in the face.’
Michelle laughs. ‘He’d be the first to tell you it’s all business.’
‘Enough,’ I say, holding up a hand. ‘Really.’
‘Just think, any day now I could be pregnant.’
I should just say it now. Tell her. Put her out of her misery. I can’t do it.
Her face is shining, glowing even. I hope to God that doesn’t mean she’s conceived already. How long does it take before women start to glow? I wish I’d paid more attention in biology.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is what is known as a ticking-clock motive. Any minute now Michelle might find out she’s pregnant by her cheating psycho husband. Once she does, all bets are off. However I feel about him I don’t think I have it in me to deny a future baby its father. Even if Michelle saw sense and left him he would still be in her life forever. It would change everything.
I have to act quickly. Speak now or forever keep it to myself. Watch them bring up their kids from a distance, trying not to blurt out what I know whenever he ‘works late’.
Somehow I need to present Michelle with incontrovertible evidence that Patrick is having an affair. The latest of many, although there will be no way of proving that. In an ideal world I would be able to get this across to her without her ever finding out that the woman he’s having it with is Bea. The brilliant assistant I have raved on about to her for the past year. The woman she just met and declared to be lovely. She would want to know how their paths crossed and I don’t think I’m ready for that to come out.
I could just tell Michelle what I know – leaving out some of the more incriminating aspects, obviously, but I worry she’d shoot the messenger. That she’d go straight to Patrick and he’d managed to convince her it was all a lie again. I need evidence.
I haven’t spoken to Adam since the night of the mugging. I mean, I have – we’ve texted and he’s left me a couple of messages. Something has shifted between us – at least from my point of view – and I’m not entirely comfortable with it. You know that thing when you’re a teenager and you like a boy, and you suddenly can’t look at him? That.
I think I like Adam. Adam who happily agreed with me that we could never possibly be attracted to each other. Mr Potato Head. Great.
He’s my only option, though. I have to suck it up and call him. Try to act as if everything is normal. I need his help.