Name & Address Withheld (26 page)

Matt nodded.

‘Well, I was just flicking through
Out Loud
and I started reading Lizzie’s pages…’ Rachel, overcome with the moment and the cocktails, was about to confess. Hell, why not? She had nothing to lose. ‘You won’t believe this, and I still sometimes think that I must have dreamt it, but I wrote to her.’

Matt’s jaw had slackened in disbelief. Rachel noticed and felt that further justification was required.

‘I know it was totally out of character. I must have been really, really ill.’

Lizzie had an unaskable question. She wanted to know whether Matt had bought the magazine for Rachel before or after they’d slept together. Either way, it appeared that Matt had inadvertently introduced Rachel to Lizzie. Matt, meanwhile, was still trying to deal with the fact that his wife and his mistress were pen pals. Lizzie hadn’t bargained for the fact that Rachel would tell Matt that she’d consulted an agony aunt. It hadn’t even occurred to her. Apparently her plan wasn’t fool-proof—more like hare-brained.

‘You did what?’

Matt looked bewildered, dismayed—or was that angry? Yes angry…but Lizzie could see the hurt in his eyes too. How on earth had she convinced herself that getting everything back to ‘normal’ would be easy?

‘I wrote to her. She’s good. And after the first exchange of letters we sort of became e-mail buddies. But I’d never met her—until about twenty minutes ago, that is. I keep inviting her round for dinner because I want you to meet her, but she’s
never free. One commitment after another. A bit like me, really. I don’t think we should take it personally…’

Rachel laughed, self-satisfied by her own wit and failing to note the grim expression on her husband’s face.

‘What with her radio show, her column and all her other responsibilities it’s a wonder she has any time for herself at all.’

Matt had now substituted stonyfaced with confused, and kept running his hand through his hair distractedly. He’d have loved to call a ‘time out’. To ask Lizzie to run through the finer points of the situation with him. But it wasn’t going to be feasible for them to glean two seconds, let alone two minutes together. He stared at the two women.

Lizzie gave Matt what she hoped was a reassuring look before deciding that it might be best if she took the conversation into her own hands. At least that way she could change the subject, or at the very least move them along before one of them made an irrevocable blunder.

‘So, Matt—Matthew…um…are you working on any interesting projects? Any more slogans I should prepare to be brainwashed by?’

Matt could feel Rachel watching him, willing him to be the fantastic husband she had undoubtedly told Lizzie he was.

‘Well…’

‘How did you know he does slogans?’

Lizzie was regretting ever speaking. It had taken less than ten seconds to insert her foot firmly into her mouth. Her cheeks were now puce under her foundation, but thanks to Lancôme she was probably about to get away with it. She could be quite a good liar if she had to be, provided her blushes didn’t give her away, and make-up and alcohol were proving to be the perfect accomplices.

‘He’s a copywriter, isn’t he? I think you told me in one of your e-mails.’ Inspired. Well recovered under pressure.

‘Oh, yes, probably.’ Rachel seemed almost apologetic.

‘I have this weird selective memory. I always remember what people do for a living and what pets they have.’ Lizzie knew she was spouting drivel, but it seemed to have done the trick.

It would’ve been sensible to quit while she was ahead. To make her excuses and leave. But the combination of Rachel’s chatty disposition, Matt’s proximity and the genuinely bizarre nature of the evening encouraged her to stay a little longer.

They progressed gingerly. Lizzie asked polite questions about Rachel’s job and the campaign while Matt stared at her. Lizzie then transferred her interest to Matt and asked lots of questions that she already knew the answers to. Rachel rolled her eyes impatiently every time he used one of his trademark corny one-liners that Lizzie had come to love.

At the first opportunity he had to escape Matt obligingly offered to go to the bar for refills and left Lizzie chatting just a little too amicably with his wife. He had quite a few important questions. Like at which point exactly had Lizzie known that he and Rachel were married? He suspected that he already knew the answer. What a fucking mess. He downed a blue vodka shot at the bar before returning to the ever-so-cosy conversation armed with the next round of drinks.

He dutifully handed his wife her usual G & T and presented Lizzie with a vodka and blue cranberry.

‘I thought you might like one of these.’

‘What is it?’

‘Vodka and cranberry…with a hint of something blue, of course. I think they said it was blackcurrant…’

Rachel wasn’t impressed. ‘Why couldn’t you have just got her another glass of wine instead of going for the glorified Ribena option?’ She turned to Lizzie to apologise for Matt. Lizzie could have punched her.

‘Sorry. Hope you like it. He never has been very good at following orders.’ She threw back her head and laughed conspiratorially before raising her eyes to heaven. ‘Cheers, anyway.’ She raised her glass.

It was the final straw. Lizzie couldn’t bear the way Rachel was treating him—and besides, cranberries reminded her of the Christmas party. She sipped her drink and turned to thank him.

‘How lovely. One of my favourites. Thanks, Matt.’

He almost blushed.

‘You might remember jobs and pets. I never forget what a girl likes to drink.’

They both laughed. For a split second it was as if Rachel wasn’t there. Only she was. Staring. Silent. Her eyes were cold, her mouth tightly closed, a horizontal line on her otherwise beautiful face. Matt looked shocked as he realised the implications of his comment. Rachel stared at Lizzie, then at Matt, then at Lizzie again. She looked as confused as a cat watching tennis on television.

Relaxed by the alcohol, Lizzie decided that Rachel deserved some sort of explanation. She was feeling so guilty that her hormones simply took over, and it didn’t look as if Matt was going to say anything.

‘Rachel, I can explain…’ Could she? Lizzie wished she felt as confident as she had just sounded. ‘I
have
met Matt before. We had a drink together at the City FM Christmas party. I just didn’t put two and two together when he arrived this evening and you introduced us. He must have looked different back then. More hair, more weight…something…’

‘Oh.’ What the hell was going on? Lizzie was trying far too hard and Matthew had just begun a detailed study of his shoes. ‘So when did you realise that you knew each other?’

‘To be honest I thought he looked vaguely familiar when he first came over, but I wasn’t quite sure where I’d seen him before. You know how it is…I meet so many people in the course of my job. Then as we were chatting I gradually realised, and the drink thing sealed it for me. We ended up debating the popularity of cranberry juice at the party but we’d both had a skinful and that was…’ There was a pause while Lizzie counted the months on her fingers. ‘Well, nearly five months ago.’ Was it really? Lizzie had surprised herself.

Matt joined in. Not a moment too soon in Lizzie’s opinion.

‘Chill out, Rach. I dread to think how many men have bought you drinks at office parties and you don’t see me getting my knickers in a twist. So Lizzie didn’t remember me at first. Can’t say I blame her. I’m hardly Mr Memorable, am I?’

Chill out? God, it annoyed her when he tried to do ‘street’.
At his age it just seemed so try-hard. She had a few questions, but he could wait.

They returned, somewhat stiltedly, to their small talk.

Lizzie was relieved that Matt’s self-deprecation seemed to have pacified Rachel. It looked as if they’d got away with it and, heart pounding, Lizzie decided that it was time to excuse herself. She conspicuously checked her watch.

‘Look, I’d better get on. I’ve still got to try and track down Melissa and introduce myself before I leave. Rachel, it’s been great to finally meet you.’ She leant towards Rachel and kissed her on the cheek. Very media. But a handshake seemed inappropriate somehow. Rachel didn’t pull away. The conversation ended more or less as it had begun, if a little less effusively.

‘So, see you for dinner in a few weeks, then?’

‘Sure. That’d be great. I’ll e-mail you nearer the time.’ As if. She’d start thinking of her next excuse just as soon as she got home.

‘Any special requests? Anything you don’t eat?’

‘I think I pretty much eat everything—usually all at the same time…’

Matt was suffering with
déjà-vu
.

‘Bye, Matt. Nice to meet you…again. Sorry I didn’t recognise you at first, it just took a bit of time to place that face… Mr Memorable. I’ll remember next time. Good luck with everything.’

Instinctively she leant forward and kissed his…cheek. Bonus point for Ms Ford. Luckily Matt had helped by moving his cheek into the casual acquaintance position. Lizzie was really flustered and, again, it was all her own doing. She could feel Rachel watching her. Matt took over. He was remarkably calm. No mean feat considering that he’d had more surprises to deal with than Lizzie this evening.

‘Thanks…and you. Maybe we’ll run into each other at City some time. Next time just make sure you remember where you’ve seen me before.’ Matt smiled at her mischievously. He was incorrigible.

Inwardly Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief, silently promising the goddess of gym membership that from this day forward
she’d be a good girl, exercise regularly and drink two litres of still water every day if she could just leave now, her reputation intact.

But Rachel wasn’t about to let her husband have the last word.

‘Oh, and Lizzie…?’

‘Yes?’

‘You know… Um…this is going to sound daft after all I’ve said…um…but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell too many people…well, anyone really…about how we know each other. It’s just that—well, you know—people might not understand.’

Rachel thought back to an effusive Will, strutting around her office, mocking Lizzie’s letters page. He was one of the people that she never wanted to find out.

‘No problem. Confidentiality is my career.’

‘Great. Thanks.’ Rachel gave Lizzie a mildly irritating insincere media wink as she was gratefully swallowed up by the rapidly expanding crowd.

Lizzie marched to the loos as assertively as she could and had barely locked the cubicle door behind her before the tears started. She wasn’t sure why she was crying. Guilt? Relief? Unrequited love? Once the pent-up emotion had been released, she pulled herself together quickly, splashed some cold water onto her burning cheeks, took a deep breath, re-applied some eyeliner and prepared to re-enter the fray in search of Melissa Matthews.

She would’ve preferred to head straight for the sanctuary of her sofa, but the spirit of Robyn Summers was nudging her into action. It probably wasn’t a bad thing. It would only look odd if she left this early.

As she applied a self-protective coat of lipgloss, Lizzie wondered if she and Matt had got away with it. She didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Rachel burst through the door which, at the receiving end of her fury, smacked loudly into the wall, and marched straight up to Lizzie, only just stopping short of pinning her up against the wallpaper. A lone hand-washer left hurriedly, without bothering to dry or thinking to stay and watch. The difference in Rachel couldn’t have been any
greater. She’d gone from charming to civil to psycho in minutes.

The goddess of gym membership had obviously run a check on Elizabeth Ford of 56 Oxford Road only to discover that she’d previously promised regular attendance and higher intake levels of non-alcoholic and decaffeinated fluids in return for a favour, only to rescind on her side of the bargain once she was out of harm’s way.

‘What the fuck do you think you’ve been playing at?’

It looked as if a lucky escape was no longer on the cards. Lizzie was terrified. An instant headache thumped into her temples and a surge of nausea swept up from her stomach like a giant tsunami. She didn’t bother mentioning it to Rachel. She sensed that she wasn’t in a sympathetic mood.

‘Ah…umm…’

It was a pathetic display of inarticulacy from someone who was supposed to do communication for a living, but she didn’t know where to start. Rachel was only too happy to take over. Lizzie braced herself.

‘Why the hell didn’t you and Matthew tell me that you knew each other when I first introduced you?’

That one was relatively easy. She just had to go over what she’d told her earlier. She employed the tried and tested repeat-the-question-to-give-yourself-a-little-bit-more-time-before-answering tactic, to calm herself down and regain her composure. She was sure it was still around here somewhere.

‘Why didn’t I tell you that Matt and I had met before? Well, um… As I said out there, it took me a few minutes to realise that he was the same guy I’d met at the Christmas party. I didn’t recognise him at first. And it was all out of context. I was expecting to meet your husband. I didn’t expect your husband to be someone I’d ever met before. We only spent that one evening together, and the party was nearly five months ago.’

‘OK, so you pass the memory test. But don’t patronise me. Something’s going on here and I think it’s only fair that you tell me what it is.’

Lizzie re-adopted the mute approach and shrugged her
shoulders, as if confused. Unfortunately it only seemed to augment Rachel’s irritation.

‘Listen, I’m not an idiot. Something was going on out there. I’ve just asked Matt for an explanation and he told me to “simmer down”.
Simmer down
, I tell you. I’m not a fucking pan. And this from a word-man. No wonder he’s still small fry. I expected more from him, and I certainly expected a lot more from you. You two have done a lot more than just meet before, haven’t you? You conniving bitch. Not so fucking saintly after all, are you? You must think I’m stupid.’

Rachel was going out on a limb. It was only a hunch at this stage, but the eyes had it. She was bloody well going to be proved right, and if there was one occasion in her life that Rachel had wished she was wrong, it was right now. Molten hysteria bubbled in her ears.