Too Close For Comfort (8 page)

‘Have we met? You’re here with Lysette, right?’

It was the auburn-haired woman, Lisa, if my hunch was correct. She was standing in the doorway of the living room, signalling to a group of late arrivers where they should leave their coats. Her
calm authority made me wonder if it had once been her family home – if it still held her energetic imprint, and cleaved to her will as soon as she stepped over the threshold. She wore a navy
coat dress with gold buttons running down the front, elegant in a way that would not yet suit me. Her skin was porcelain, lightly criss-crossed by age in a way that didn’t rob her of her
attractiveness but probably would’ve limited her options. I found myself increasingly obsessed by age these days – I couldn’t help it.

‘That’s right. I’m Mia. I’m her . . . her friend from London.’

‘Lisa. Thanks for coming. I’m sure she really appreciates it.’

I could see Lysette from here, hands gesticulating like a puppeteer, only a shallow puddle of white wine left at the bottom of her glass. There was a controlled hysteria about her; relief like
rocket fuel, grief threatening to boomerang back and fell her at any second. Ged had already gone back to work: I felt a wave of protectiveness towards her.

‘I was glad to be here for her. I’m back to London in a couple of hours, I need to get back to work.’ I rolled the word around in my mouth like a delicious sweet, comforted by
it. ‘And to my fiancé.’

‘What is it you do?’

‘I’m a therapist.’

‘Yes! I’ve heard about you.’

‘Have you?’

‘Word travels fast in these here parts,’ she said, putting on a comedy yokel accent that didn’t quite land. ‘I should see how my two are doing,’ she added, like she
knew as much. ‘Good to meet you.’

*

When I came out of the bathroom, Kimberley was waiting outside, catching the door handle as it swung open. We stood there, slightly too close.

‘I thought you’d left,’ she said, although I couldn’t see why.

‘No. I was just talking to Lisa.’ Kimberley’s eyebrows arched up like perfect commas. ‘She seemed really nice.’

‘She’s a close friend,’ said Kimberley, wrong-footing me. I tried to keep my face neutral, but it was almost as if she could read my thoughts – how could she have been
simultaneously close to the first and second wife? ‘It’s all very civilised with Joshua. You’d be suitably impressed.’ She paused, waiting for my reaction.

‘What, you mean when I’m giving out my gold stars?’

She gave a tinkly laugh.

‘It sounds like you should. Helena said you were a godsend the other day.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes! I wanted to talk to you myself by the time she’d finished, but I guess there won’t be time. Shame.’

I was flattered, almost against my will. I smiled, shrugged my assent. ‘I should go and find Lysette. Wasn’t she amazing up there?’

A look crossed Kimberley’s face that I couldn’t decipher.

‘I could never have done that,’ she said.

‘Really?’

‘You get back to her. She’ll be really feeling it now – Sarah not being here. She’ll need you.’

Every sentence that came out of her perfect mouth left a nasty aftertaste.

*

Lysette’s eyes lit up at the sight of me in a way that they hadn’t all week. She still had that firework feeling about her – soaring high in the air, liable to
explode. Her scarlet lipstick was bleeding outwards, a sticky red imprint left on the glass.

‘Mia! Come and get a drink.’

Her glass was already held out for a top-up. I smiled at a waiter, asked him for a glass of white and took a modest sip. I don’t really like drinking in the day – growing up with an
alcoholic father has given me control freak tendencies around it. That 4 p.m. muzziness that people like so much makes me feel like civilisation as we know it is crashing down around our ears.

‘Everyone’s saying how incredible you were,’ I told her.

‘Yeah well,’ she said, a dismissive hand flying up. ‘I had to be. That’s what she deserved. She’d have done the same for me. And she wouldn’t have gone to
pieces at the end.’

‘You didn’t go to pieces,’ I said, when what I really wanted to say was that I’d get up there and speak for her too, even if I was ninety years old and deaf as a post and
had to shout the words down the aisle until I was hoarse. She took another slug of her wine.

‘Someone had to tell the truth about her.’

‘I thought Joshua spoke really well too.’

Lysette gave a tight little nod. Everything I said sounded like a press release – I couldn’t quite understand why. Was it something about my vantage point, my sense of telescoping in
and out, too close and then distant again? I felt relief in my body at the thought that I only had a few more hours left.

We both looked over to him, standing in the corner with Sarah’s parents. Sarah’s mum didn’t look all that much older than him, her dark hair glowing with reddish highlights,
big gold earrings framing her face. I could see that vitality of Sarah’s that Lysette was holding on to like a torch. Her dad looked more grey, his shoulders slumped, eyes baggy with
sadness.

‘I’ve got to go and talk to them,’ said Lysette, her voice rising dangerously like a snatched-up needle ripping across a vinyl record. I put my hand on her arm, but she pulled
away, leaving it suspended uselessly in mid-air. I stood there a second, marooned again, then headed for the groaning buffet table just to give myself something to do.

‘Couldn’t resist the sausage rolls?’

Where had he sprung from? I kept my voice steady. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

‘I was going to go home, but Ged thought she might need some babysitting,’ said Jim, nodding towards Lysette, her hands slicing through the air, Sarah’s parents her captive
audience.

‘Makes sense Ged asked you. I’m going back to London in a couple of hours.’

I mapped Jim’s face more closely this time, observed the passage of time etched into his skin. His confidence was so absolute back then, the world not just dancing, but waltzing to his
tune. He was careless with his gifts: where had that taken him? I knew he had a gaggle of kids, a satisfyingly frazzled wife who I’d spotted at one of Saffron’s parties, and a job as a
TV producer. All of that was just information, though.

‘So we’ve only got two hours to cover twenty years?’ he said. ‘I hope you can still talk fast.’

I kept my gaze deliberately cold, ignoring the way he was beckoning me towards our shared history. He cocked his head, smiled at me, his green eyes searching my face. He was still used to doors
swinging open with the lightest of pushes.

‘Edited highlights? I’m a psychotherapist, I live in Highgate and I’m about to get married.’ Why did I say Highgate? Patrick’s rabbit-hutch flat was a good two
miles from the leafy, celeb-riddled enclave up the hill. About to get married was an exaggeration too: we couldn’t quite fix on a date, Patrick’s upcoming trial a looming rain cloud
that never quite broke and my work a relentless stream of clients and conferences. My voice was too high, too quick.

‘Who’s the lucky bastard? Although . . . I bet you’ve got spreadsheets for the canapés and some kind of ruthless shortlist for the invites.’

‘And do you never get out of bed till ten unless you absolutely have to?’

Jim laughed. He’d won – he’d broken through my Teflon coating – and he was enjoying his victory. I smiled back, I couldn’t help it.

‘You bet.’ He held up the plate of sausage rolls, offered me one, eyes twinkling. ‘Although Rowena kicks my arse if I don’t pull my weight.’

It was stupid, but I felt a twinge inside as he said it. It wasn’t because I wanted to be with him – I’d have taken Patrick’s unwavering kindness over his flighty,
unreliable charm any day – it was the tangible sense of someone else having him. Someone else who’d believed in herself enough to know that kicking his arse was the way to win. Me
– I let him take everything, until there was nothing left for him to stay for.

‘What have you got? Three?’ I said, faux casual, as if I didn’t know perfectly well.

He nodded. ‘That’s my lot. We’ve got to the root of the problem now, we know what’s been causing it.’

I gave a weak smile. Before I could formulate some kind of witty riposte, Joshua appeared, Max still trailing in his wake.

‘Jim. Thanks so much for coming.’

‘I wanted to be here.’ He clapped Joshua on the shoulder, which slightly made me cringe. ‘I’m so sorry, mate.’ Joshua nodded, unable to summon any words.
‘This is Mia. She was at school with Lysette, so we go way back.’

I felt an illogical burst of resentment – did he not want to say that I was his ex? I pushed the narcissistic thought away. It was the first time I’d properly seen Joshua up close,
but even here, when we were inches apart, it was hard to really see him. I felt more absence than presence.

‘It was a beautiful service,’ I said.

Max’s chubby hand strained upwards towards the buffet table, making a stack of three of the miniature sausage rolls. He mashed down on them and tried to stuff the triple-decker treat into
his mouth.

‘Max, no!’ said Joshua sharply. ‘That’s greedy.’

Max’s face, a mess of crumbs and snot, started to crumble. I fell to my knees without thinking about it.

‘Hello, Max, I’m Mia. Who’s your friend?’ I added, pointing at his Woody doll.

Max’s face brightened. He gulped down a lump of sausage, and stuck out Woody’s hand, making a formal introduction. ‘Woody,’ he said, as I fumbled to grip his tiny plastic
digits.

‘He’s a good friend to have,’ I said.

‘He’s my best friend,’ agreed Max earnestly. ‘My mummy says I can tell him anything in the world.’

‘Anything?’

‘Yes. He doesn’t have any other friends so if I tell him things, he never tells anyone else. Do you have a best friend?’

‘I think so,’ I said, looking over at Lysette. Her glass was already empty, her eyes blazing. Joshua’s face was still full of reproach. I scrambled to my feet, hoping he
didn’t think my behaviour was presumptuous.

‘Good to meet you,’ he said, gliding away, Max following in his wake.

‘You’re going to be a natural,’ said Jim, softly, and the twinge inside twisted into something tighter and harder.

We both looked back to Lysette. I could hear her, her voice cutting through the gentle hubbub of the room.

‘She’d want you to know that,’ she was saying, eyes trained on Sarah’s father. ‘She’d forgiven you for all of it.’ She shrugged, grinned too widely.
‘Any problems you’d had, it was all in the past.’

I watched her words land, his face like stone. This was a disaster: I looked at Jim, and he looked back at me, a half-smile playing on his face. He hadn’t lost it even now – that
total refusal to take anything seriously unless it was a direct threat, a herd of buffalo charging straight for him.

‘Jim, we’ve got to persuade her it’s time to go home.’

People were starting to stare. I could see Kimberley perched elegantly on the oatmeal sofa casting darting looks in Lysette’s direction. Nigel sat next to her, his expression deliberately
neutral. Joshua had headed out into the garden, so he wasn’t there to smooth things over either. I couldn’t watch any longer: I slipped my way across the room to Lysette’s side,
jerking my head at Jim to follow.

‘She was special. I know people always say that, but . . .’

I put my arm around Lysette, which stopped her mid-flow.

‘Hi,’ I said, smiling awkwardly at Sarah’s parents. ‘I’m Mia. I’m an old friend of Lysette’s. I’m so sorry to meet you in such sad
circumstances.’

Jim was uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot, a bottle of beer in his hand. I felt like a prefect. Sarah’s parents smiled at me, their fixed grins telling me that they needed
rescuing.

‘She’s an old friend of my brother’s too,’ said Lysette, with a little roll of her eyes. This was painful.

‘I need to get to the station soon. Shall we go back to yours and I’ll get packed?’

‘Don’t go!’ wailed Lysette. ‘I can’t have you disappearing on me too.’ She turned to Jim. ‘No one’s going to be left.’

I looked at Sarah’s parents, willing them to quietly back away. They didn’t.

‘I’m here, sis,’ said Jim.

‘You’re no use to anyone though, are you?’ she said, her voice a snarl.

‘Bit harsh,’ said Jim, comforting himself with a gulp of his beer like it was a baby’s bottle.

‘Let’s just call a cab, or maybe Jim can drive us. Saffron’ll be home from school soon.’

‘Mummy time,’ trilled Lysette, a poor parody of ‘Hammer time’, fingers snapping above her head. God, I hated drunk people. ‘She was such a good mum. You know that
though, don’t you?’

I caught a look in Sarah’s mum’s eye, and realised in a flash why they weren’t making a speedy exit. It was hungry, her look – like she was starving and craving a morsel
of food, even if it was only scraps. Anything she could learn about her daughter, however it came, was worth the risk. I felt my heart contract with the knowledge that that was how it would be for
me too. I’d be wearing my heart on the outside for the rest of my life.

‘She was the best daughter in the world,’ said Sarah’s mum, the first time I’d heard her speak. Her voice, with its sharp edges, was a contrast to Joshua’s neutral
tones.

‘But the reason she was the best . . .’ said Lysette, her gaze intense, ‘was because she wasn’t some fucking Alpha Mummy, scoring points for her
gluten-free cupcakes. She still had her wicked side.’ Sarah’s mum was staring at her now, willing her to continue. ‘She could still be a really naughty girl.’

Sarah’s dad looked down at the ground, like he wished he could tunnel his way out. Perhaps I should just back away, leave them to it, stop trying to direct operations. I looked at Jim, who
shrugged and took another swig of beer.

‘She always had spirit, our girl,’ said her mum.

Kimberley was tracking the conversation from her vantage point on the sofa, eyes narrowed.

‘Spirit’s one word for it!’ said Lysette, something dangerous in her voice. ‘She had more than that. But you know that, don’t you?’

Sarah’s dad’s eyes flashed. ‘Good to see you again, Lysette,’ he said, taking his wife’s elbow. ‘We should get around more of her friends.’