Fractured(15)

‘Have we moved my party in here then, girls?’ she breezed, joining us at the mirror and linking her arm through mine, a move that even the densest person could not fail to realise was a display of solidarity. Cathy was insensitive, but not entirely dense.

‘No, no. Rachel and I were just catching up. Let’s go.’ But then Cathy, being Cathy, couldn’t resist one last poisoned dart. ‘I’m sure Matt will be worrying about what’s happened to me.’

If he was worried, he hid it well.

However, as I settled back into my seat, I picked up on the threads of the one conversation that I had been dreading would be instigated all night. I felt my heart plummet in my chest like a wrecking ball.

Phil was clearly in the middle of saying something to Dave about Jimmy.

‘… such a tragic and stupid waste… such a great bloke…’

Dave murmured a non-committal response, and I guessed that Sarah had already pre-warned him to try to divert the conversation from this topic if it surfaced.

‘Nothing was ever the same after that night… not for any of us.’

The silence around the table that followed this remark was its own acknowledgement. I felt rather than saw almost every eye turn to me. I guess they were right in thinking that I had been affected the most, for the scars on my face were nothing compared to the ones that scored me deep inside.

‘Come on now, let’s not do this tonight,’ implored Sarah.

‘No, of course,’ agreed Phil, and even though I’d kept my eyes averted to the tablecloth, I knew meaningful glances were being directed my way. It was all getting a little too intense and I was overcome by a sudden irresistible desire for the safe anonymity of my hotel bedroom.

‘I hate to break up the party,’ I began, and heard a small chorus of guilty noes from around the table, ‘and it’s not just because of… Jimmy.’ My voice hesitated before being able to form his name. ‘But I really do have a pretty bad headache, so if you don’t mind, I think I’ll call it night for now.’

Sarah immediately began to protest, but then the intuition our close friendship provided made her completely back down.

‘Sure, sweetie. It’s been a busy day for everyone.’

When I realised that she intended to wind the whole evening up, I felt instantly ashamed.

‘No, Sarah. You all stay. You haven’t even had coffee yet. I’ll just grab a cab. Please don’t break up the party because of me. Please.’ I got to my feet. Sarah still looked as though she was wavering, but then Dave interceded.

‘Let me go outside with you to hail a cab,’ he offered. ‘Trevor, why don’t you order some coffees and brandies.’

I gave him a grateful smile. No wonder Sarah loved him. I decided he was worthy of her after all.

‘No need for a cab,’ a familiar dark voice interjected. ‘I’ve got my car outside, I’ll run Rachel back.’

I was so taken aback by Matt’s unexpected offer for, apart from his initial greeting, this had been the first remark he had actually directed to me all evening. Before I even had a chance to react either way, he dropped a swift kiss on Cathy’s forehead.

‘Won’t be long,’ he assured her, then turning to look across at me, ‘Shall we?’

I was about to protest; to insist that his offer really wasn’t necessary and that getting a cab was by far and away the easiest solution, and then I caught sight of Cathy’s face. Rage, disbelief and total indignation all battled for pole position. It was wicked, I knew, but that was what decided me. I owed her this for the cloakroom incident. I reached down, collected my bag and gave a general smile to the gathering of friends at the table.

‘Sorry to leave so soon, but I’ll see you all at the wedding on Saturday. Goodnight.’

As I walked away from the table, I felt Matt place a guiding hand at the small of my back to steer me past a waiter approaching the table with a tray of coffees. I heard the echoing chorus of ‘Goodbyes’ as we walked away. Strangely enough, Cathy’s voice did not appear to be among them.

Once outside in the bracing December air, I took a step away from him, deliberately breaking the lingering contact of his hand against me.

‘This way,’ he instructed, raising his arm to blip a key towards a low dark sleek vehicle parked under a bright sodium arc light. He opened the passenger door and cupped my elbow briefly as I lowered myself onto a cream-coloured seat with leather as soft as butter. I waited until he had joined me in the car before commenting:

‘Well, this is certainly far more luxurious than a taxi. A new toy?’

He gave a little shrug. ‘It’s a company car.’