‘I’ve arranged for a few friends to come round for supper tonight, sweetie. Mel and Tom. Oh and Philippa will be there.’
Bridget and Hartley’s families had known the Bonners since they were children. Philippa was a good friend. She had been eager to report her sighting of Lucy the other day. Annoyingly, she said Lucy still looked good. Bridget had hoped the flattering picture of her in the paper had been an old image and that she had let herself go. It would have made Bridget’s day to hear she’d piled on a stone or had broken out in spots since her split with Hartley. Never mind. Philippa had given her an icy reception. Hopefully, Lucy was getting the message: she was not welcome in their circle.
Claudia was another matter. Bridget had had no choice but to give her a severe warning.
She had decided to give her mousy friend another chance. Instead of completely cutting her off, Bridget had realized Claudia was still of use. After all, her father was president of Daddy’s golf club and got them those fab tickets to the annual Spring Ball.
Just the other day she had invited Claudia to her house for an early supper – all protein, no carbs after 2 p.m. was doing wonders for her weight.
Bridget had made a passing comment about Lucy – how trashy she was, what with setting up the photographer and now chasing after her next meal ticket, Kirk Kelner.
‘Poor Hartley had a lucky escape there,’ she told her friend knowingly.
‘Now, Bridget,’ Claudia had said, rather bravely Bridget thought, ‘I know it looks like she must have been behind the thing in Scotland, but I can’t believe it was her. Honestly, Bridget, if you’d seen her afterwards… She was a wreck. She seemed so lovely. It just doesn’t seem the sort of thing she would do.’
Bridget felt her anger rise with every pathetic dribbling word that came out of Claudia’s feeble mouth.
‘How dare you?’ she said, looking at Claudia with disdain.
She stood up, thumping her glass of water on the table in front of her. If the table had been glass instead of solid oak, it would have smashed to pieces.
‘You have the gall to defend this slut even when she has betrayed Hartley? I have known you for years, I have helped you in every way I could – taking you to the right places, helping you get over your geek chic, if I can even call it that.’ Bridget was shouting now, her face reddening through her pale matt foundation. ‘You’ve known this imposter for two minutes and come into my house and tell me how wonderful she is, how happy she was with Hartley. How fucking dare you?’
Claudia looked down, her face bright red and full of fear. She looked like she would burst into tears at any second.
Bridget was now incandescent with rage, screaming so hard that specks of spit were flying from her mouth. ‘If it wasn’t for me he’d still be with that little bitch, still thinking she was sweetness and fucking light. I’m the one he should thank, you should all thank, for making him see the kind of thing she’d do –’
Bridget stopped suddenly. Shit, she’d almost told Claudia about Scotland. She was so sick of playing the angelic card that sometimes she just wanted to be congratulated for being so bloody clever, for opening Hartley’s eyes. But no, that wouldn’t do. Got to keep up the act. She’d nearly let it slip. Claudia wouldn’t put two and two together, though. She looked too bloody terrified to take her next breath of air, let alone work out what Bridget had done.
Bridget took a deep breath and exhaled, then another. She sat down and ran her fingers through her sleek black bob. She did not need such stress.
Claudia didn’t say much except to apologize, as she should. Bridget made her promise not to even think about having contact with Lucy and never to bring her up again unless she had something of interest to report.
‘I expect loyalty from my best friends,’ Bridget told Claudia when she had calmed down.
Claudia had nodded and smiled.
Bridget was now drumming her fingers on her cup as she stared at Hartley. He wasn’t paying her any attention. A workman had left his copy of the Daily News on the table beside them and Hartley had spotted Lucy’s picture on the front page. Well, it was as good a time as any. It saved Bridget bringing the topic up herself.
She watched as Hartley leaned over and picked up the paper. She gave him time to take in the words.
‘Oh darling, is that the story about Lucy?’
Hartley looked up as though he had just noticed Bridget was there.
‘Ah yes. How funny. I didn’t realize it would make the papers,’ she lied.
Hartley looked down at the headline then back at Bridget, confused.
‘My friend Jasper called me this morning to say he had seen Lucy in Sheekey’s last night and she had been all over Kirk Kelner.’ Bridget lowered her tone to almost a whisper. ‘Apparently, she tipped the waiter and asked him to send a note over – with something very suggestive on it.’ Bridget grimaced for effect.
Bridget watched Hartley’s expression and saw a fleeting sorrow in his eyes, replaced by a duller sadness. This was very good news. The more wounded he was, the more likely he was to fall into bed with Bridget, especially after the few drinks that she would ensure he had that evening.
‘But, sweetie, I didn’t want you to think I was gossiping – I take no notice of such stories. But there it is for the world to see.’
Could this be the same sweet girl Hartley had known? Had Lucy blinded him with an act? It was so odd that she was on the front of a newspaper – the Daily News – the one her sister worked for. Had they colluded to get her on the front page? Hartley didn’t know much about newspapers but surely Max would know if her sister was the main story of the day? Lucy had seemed so resistant to attention when he was with her. Was that a sham too?
‘So, sweetie – supper tonight. You can come?’
Hartley nodded vacantly, agreeing to whatever it was Bridget was asking.