It Was You Read online

  I offered her what I hoped was a pained expression.

  ‘Oh, I’m being unfair.’ She squeezed my arm. ‘Putting you in a difficult position, when Eleanor is a client. But,’ she lowered her voice further, ‘as I say, it’s not a natural pairing.’

  ‘This sounds interesting,’ said Ben. We turned to see that the men were now listening-in on our conversation. ‘What’s all this about natural pairings?’ He looked at Louise. ‘You’re not matchmaking, are you?’ he asked, before giving me a wink. ‘She’s a dreadful matchmaker.’

  Louise glanced at David and appeared flustered. ‘Ben,’ she said, her lips barely moving.

  He lowered his head, as if dodging incoming fire.

  ‘I hope you’re not matchmaking, Louise,’ David smiled. ‘Poor Alice endured a rather muddy weekend recently as a result of a helpful friend matchmaking. Didn’t you, Alice?’ he said amiably.

  I shot him a glance, which had the effect of making him physically recoil. Jon scratched his upper lip; an attempt, I knew, to suppress a smile.

  ‘Oops,’ laughed Ben. ‘Put your foot in it there, have you, David?’ He seemed to relish the idea that someone, other than himself, had made a faux pas.

  ‘Oh, so you two aren’t a couple then?’ Louise looked at me, whilst moving her left index finger back and forth between Jon and myself.

  I looked at Jon, willing him to share the burden of the attention. Instead, he offered me an amused smile, which I met with a frown.

  ‘No,’ I said to Louise. ‘But I do love your necklace. Where is it from?’ I asked, keen to divert interest from my personal life.

  ‘Sorry for mentioning the matchmaking,’ said David. He looked at me anxiously.

  ‘Twice,’ I said. ‘But it’s fine. Nothing like making me sound needy.’ I forced a laugh.

  Louise put an arm around me and squeezed. ‘Being set-up doesn’t make you sound needy,’ she grinned.

  ‘Well, maybe just a bit needy,’ laughed Ben, delivering another wink.

  I attempted a smile.

  ‘Hello, strangers!’ I turned to discover Sophie standing behind me; cocktail in one hand and yet another variation on the cigarette-substitute theme, in the other. ‘Thought you two would never get here,’ she said. ‘Bloody skivers.’ She wagged a finger at Jon and me. Louise laughed and I joined in, delighted to be presented with an opportunity to redirect the conversation.

  ‘Hi!’ I said. ‘We’re not that late. What time did you get here? Where’s Graham?’

  ‘Graham?’ she said, turning her head towards me in a somewhat concentrated fashion; an indication, I knew, of slight inebriation. ‘Oh… he’s got a date. I came with David. Was here from the off – sticking to him like glue. I’m like bloody Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard.’

  David emitted something halfway between a sigh and a groan at this point, before raising a hand to interject. Sophie, of course, ignored the attempted interruption, continuing, without hesitation, her account of the evening. ‘So, I just took a ten minute break from driving Miss Daisy,’ she waved her non-cigarette at David, ‘and met a lovely, lovely man called Henry, who makes puppets. Could be a bit kinky. Not sure yet. How are things at this end of the space? What’s the chat?’

  ‘I was just talking to Louise about Imi,’ I said.

  ‘And then I mentioned Alice’s request for dates.’ David smiled apologetically and made a mea culpa face.

  I stared at him incredulously, whilst making a mental note to slap him at the earliest opportunity.

  ‘You requested dates?’ Ben guffawed. ‘Now that is needy!’ Louise elbowed him hard in the ribs, causing him to gasp in pain and mutter, ‘What the fu—’ before a second elbowing cut him short.

  ‘No, actually, I didn’t request dates,’ I said, feeling my cheeks begin to burn. ‘And I’m not sure who gave David that impression.’ I glared at Sophie before turning back to Louise. ‘I’m just happy to meet new people.’

  ‘Euphemism alert!’ laughed Ben, clearly recovered from Louise’s assault.

  ‘For God’s sake, Ben,’ groaned Louise. She turned to me. ‘I think it’s great that you’re putting yourself out there. I thought she was with Jon,’ she added, nudging Sophie.

  I looked miserably at Jon. He was still smiling and I felt suddenly irritated. He, I thought, had divulged nothing – wanted absolute privacy – about his personal relationships. And yet he seemed perfectly happy to laugh along as my private life was picked apart at a party.

  And suddenly I saw a way to share the spotlight. ‘No, Jon and I aren’t together,’ I said, hurriedly. ‘He’s actually dating someone, aren’t you, Jon?’

  I regretted the comment almost before the last word was out.

  Sophie’s head snapped round. ‘Are you, Jon?’ she asked, her expression puzzled.

  ‘Ooh, everyone’s at it!’ laughed Louise. ‘I so miss my single days and playing the field.’

  ‘Me too,’ muttered Ben.

  ‘Are you,’ repeated Sophie, punctuating the sentence with a large gulp from her glass, ‘seeing someone, Jon?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ he said simply, whilst looking at me steadily. My stomach lurched.

  Sophie blinked rapidly. ‘Oh,’ she said. She appeared totally at a loss; something I had rarely, if ever, witnessed.

  Louise’s smile faded as she looked from Jon to Sophie and then back again. ‘And, er, is that going well, Jon?’ she asked uncertainly.

  ‘Yes.’ He turned to her and smiled.

  I looked at Sophie. She was now chewing on the end of her plastic cigarette, whilst staring expressionlessly at the floor. Louise was eyeing her with obvious concern.

  ‘Well, that’s all very… lovely,’ said Louise, with exaggerated brightness, ‘but it’s high time Ben and I stopped tormenting you with personal questions and let you mingle.’

  Ben frowned. ‘Actually, it wasn’t me who—’

  Louise cut him off. ‘I said it’s time for you to stop tormenting people now, Ben.’ She held up her empty wine glass. ‘And I for one need a refill. It’s so lovely to see you all again – and to meet you, Jon. And, er, good luck with the dating!’ She shot Sophie a last worried look and then turned and walked off in the direction of the kitchen wine supply.

  ‘Right, well…’ Ben looked down uncomfortably at the largely untouched glass of wine in his right hand. ‘I… well, I’d better keep her company. Best of luck, all.’ And off he went.

  We stood in unmoving silence, like statues in a particularly busy museum.

  ‘Well,’ said Jon after a moment, ‘that was fun.’

  I looked up at him for any hint of a smile. There was none. He simply raised his eyebrows at me and drank his wine.

  David spoke next. ‘I’m sorry for raising the subject of…’ I held up a hand and he checked himself mid-sentence, ‘…for raising that subject.’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m no better,’ I mumbled and looked at Jon.

  ‘Let’s just find a new subject,’ he said, looking round the room.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  He didn’t reply.

  I sighed and tried to recall a worse start to an evening.

  Sophie looked up. ‘Are you really dating, Jon?’ she asked. Her expression was that of a cartoon character who has just been hit in the face with a frying pan.

  ‘Sophie,’ I touched her arm, ‘he has already said he is.’

  She looked at me. ‘I’m so confused,’ she said. ‘And you knew this? How long have you known?’

  David stepped towards her. ‘Come on,’ he said, taking her arm. ‘That last cocktail seems to have hit you pretty hard. Let’s go and find a sofa and a glass of water.’

  She turned towards him and, still looking extremely dazed, said, ‘That sounds nice, David. Thank you.’

  He smiled down at her, held out his arm for her to link, and together they headed off in the direction of the brand new conservatory, which ran the entire length of the back of the house. I watched them go, noticing Sophie c
ast a last worried glance at Jon over her shoulder, before forcing David to detour slightly so she could grab a fresh cocktail from a tray carried by the attractive young caterer we had seen earlier.

  I turned to Jon. He studied his drink, before looking up at me. ‘You’ve done a great job here,’ he said.

  ‘I was just desperate for people to stop asking me about dating,’ I said quietly.

  He said nothing.

  I attempted a smile. ‘So, you said things are going well. That’s great.’

  He remained silent, his expression disconcertingly stern.

  ‘I’d love you to tell me about it all,’ I continued, still smiling, whilst feeling increasingly desperate in the face of such obvious disapproval. ‘I’m really sorry if I raised it in the wrong way. I know I should have talked to you about it privately first—’

  ‘Or not at all,’ he interrupted, his tone abrupt.

  My smile fell away. ‘What?’

  He looked down at me, his expression uncharacteristically lacking in humour and warmth. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have raised it privately or publicly, until I chose to mention it to you. If I chose to mention it to you.’

  I blinked up at him, completely crushed by an inferred slight regarding the closeness of our friendship, whilst at the same time conscious of a heavy, inescapable irony. Not mentioning his date had been precisely my intention less than an hour earlier. What had happened to that resolve?

  ‘But it’s just such a positive thing,’ I said quietly. ‘It’s a shame not to—’

  ‘Don’t be disingenuous.’ For the first time in our friendship, he sounded irritated with me and it hurt to an unexpected degree. ‘You’ve just admitted that you brought it up to shift the focus from you to me.’

  ‘But it’s also—’

  ‘The relationship is not something I want to discuss with you.’

  He spoke quietly, but his frustration was obvious. The words hit me like calmly fired bullets. I stared up at him, saying nothing.

  He looked at me steadily and, after a moment, I lowered my eyes to gaze, unfocused, into my wine glass.

  ‘Alice,’ I heard him say, but I didn’t look up. There followed what seemed like a lengthy pause before he spoke again, ‘I’ve spotted a couple of people I know over there. I’m going to go and say hi.’

  I opened my mouth to speak but this time he continued without hesitation. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said. I raised my head and he offered me a distressingly polite smile, before weaving his way in the direction of a small group at the other end of the room. I turned and watched them greet his arrival with delighted surprise.

  I stood for a moment, uncertain what to do; my preferred option being to curl up into a foetal position, gnaw on my own fist and bawl. Jon had dated for the first time in over three years – an undoubtedly huge personal and emotional step. And I had judged it appropriate to raise the matter, in the middle of a party, without warning, in front of people he had never met before. On reflection, I decided “crass” was the most appropriate umbrella term for my behaviour.

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ I felt a light tap on my shoulder and turned to see Eleanor Black standing behind me. She looked distractingly shiny and I wondered whether the sheen was attributable to alcohol, hostess stress or botox. Quite possibly a combination of all three, I thought. ‘There you are,’ she repeated, offering me her best smile. ‘And where are…’ her eyes flickered uncertainly, ‘…the rest of you?’

  ‘The rest of me?’ I asked, genuinely confused by the grammar.

  She maintained the smile, but I detected a twitch of annoyance.

  ‘David, and the other one of you and,’ she purred, her smile widening to apparent breaking point, ‘your friend.’

  Ah, my friend. Now I understood the charm offensive: the offensive charm. I drained my wine glass, as feelings of misery and guilt over Jon, morphed into ones of impatience and antipathy towards Eleanor Black. She was, I decided, an unfeeling, self-serving, narcissistic, over-sexed harridan and I didn’t have it in me to tolerate her company at the moment.

  ‘David and the other one of me are relaxing in the conservatory,’ I said. ‘I’m just about to join them. Would you like to come?’ I extended the invitation, confident of a rejection.

  She hesitated; predictably reluctant to be foiled in her pursuit of Jon. ‘Right, and how is your friend? I was concerned that he might not know anyone here. Where is he?’

  ‘I think he headed through into the den,’ I said, turning and walking towards the conservatory. ‘You could try there.’

  Escaping Eleanor, I found David and Sophie chatting happily on a sofa in one corner of the crowded conservatory. ‘Hello, you two,’ I said, when I arrived. ‘Room for a small one?’

  They looked up and their faces fell, causing me to experience a fresh wave of misery. The evening was turning into a disaster. What had I done now?

  It was only when a voice behind me said, ‘I think you mean room for two, don’t you?’ that I realised David and Sophie were looking not at me, but at Eleanor who, despite my conviction to the contrary, had actually followed me into the conservatory and was now standing behind me, awaiting a seat. I had led her straight to David. I considered getting my coat.

  ‘Oh, Eleanor,’ David stood up. ‘How lovely to see you. We did wonder where you had got to, didn’t we, Sophie?’

  Sophie folded her arms. ‘Oh yes, that’s right, we were all wondery wonderment,’ she muttered.

  Thankfully, Eleanor appeared not to hear. ‘Sit back down, David, and I’ll sit next to you. And she,’ she waved a hand in my direction, whilst continuing to look at David, ‘can sit next to your other colleague.’

  David sat, as did I.

  Sophie turned and gave me a look which I interpreted as mixture of disdain for Eleanor Black and bemusement at the fact that I had brought the child catcher into the nursery.

  ‘So,’ said Eleanor, ‘I think it’s all going rather well.’ She pointlessly hoisted up the neckline of her dress, before immediately pulling it down again to re-expose her cleavage. ‘Apart from the fact that I now seem to be without a drink.’ She looked pointedly at Sophie. ‘And I just don’t feel I can get up again for a moment. I’ve been on my feet all evening.’

  ‘Ooh, yes,’ said Sophie, glancing at Eleanor’s legs, ‘your ankles are swelling.’

  ‘I’ll get the drinks!’ David leapt to his feet. ‘Same again, for you, Alice? White wine, Eleanor? And Sophie, I think you’re OK for now, yes? Right. Shan’t be a tick.’

  I could tell that all three of us were slightly taken aback by the speed of his departure and an awkward silence fell as we sat in a row on the sofa; Sophie and I separated from Eleanor by the space so suddenly vacated by David.

  Still deflated and distracted by my exchange with Jon, and irritated by Eleanor’s pre-occupation with him, I found it difficult to immediately reassume the mantle of business ambassador. It was therefore left to Sophie to end the conversational hiatus.

  ‘I know I’m partly responsible for it,’ she said, looking round, ‘but your home is looking lovely, Eleanor.’ I looked at her, unable to keep my expression entirely free of surprise and admiration at this uncontroversial opener.

  ‘Well, you certainly charged me enough,’ said Eleanor.

  Oh dear.

  I felt Sophie stiffen but she laughed lightly. ‘Ah, well, you do get what you pay for.’

  ‘I know what I paid for with the fixtures and fittings, because I can see them and they’re useful.’ Eleanor offered her a thin smile. ‘The value of advice and opinion is harder to quantify.’

  Sophie twisted slightly in her seat. ‘I agree absolutely,’ she said. I experienced an immediate sense of relief and allowed myself to exhale. ‘It is difficult to put a value on advice, because, quite often, it is invaluable.’ I hoped Sophie would stop there. But, of course, she didn’t. ‘Take that dress you’re wearing, for example—’

  ‘These sofas are soooo comfortable, aren’t they?’
I said, bouncing slightly.

  ‘What about my dress?’ Eleanor looked at Sophie and narrowed her eyes.

  ‘Well, it’s a beautiful dress,’ said Sophie. ‘You’ve clearly invested there. And you could wear it any number of ways, with any number of accessories. You’ve chosen to wear it your way.’ Sophie thrust her chest forward and pouted. ‘Very glamorous. Very Marilyn.’

  I glanced at Eleanor and was relieved to see that she seemed to consider this last comment to be a compliment. Nevertheless, I felt the exchange was teetering on the brink of catastrophe and made a second attempt at situation retrieval. ‘I’ve just bought a new sofa. And I actually spent quite a lot of time—’

  ‘It’s true that I have a sense of femininity and style which many women envy,’ said Eleanor. Sophie nodded, exercising considerable self-restraint. I tensed and prayed for a change of subject. ‘And, that being the case, I’m not sure why on earth I would want to take advice from anyone else.’ My shoulders sagged involuntarily, as I experienced a sense of resignation to the inevitable.

  ‘It’s just all about keeping one’s mind open to the possibilities,’ Sophie returned.

  ‘Yes, well I’ve noted lots of sartorial possibilities this evening.’ Eleanor looked Sophie up and down, her eyes lingering disparagingly on the latter’s plain black shift dress. ‘And most of them are dire.’

  I looked at Sophie, she was now staring unblinkingly and without expression at Eleanor. I leaned forward, placing myself between the two women, summoning up the energy for one last stab at keeping the peace. ‘The thing about sofas is that a lot depends upon leg length, doesn’t it? I have an incredibly short upper body, so when I—’

  Sophie placed a hand on my shoulder and gently eased me back, so that she could see Eleanor. She spoke calmly.

  ‘What I’m saying is that, with third-party perspective, the next time you wore your beautiful dress, you could make it look totally different – like a new dress,’ she continued. ‘Someone else might suggest you accessorise it in a way you might not have otherwise considered.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Eleanor dismissively. ‘And typical of someone who earns a living charging for hot air. There is nothing anyone could tell me about how to dress.’