Page 39 of None of This is True

‘Yes. Erin and Roxy.’

‘And what’s Erin up to tonight?’

‘Oh, she’ll just be in. Gaming.’

‘Oh! She’s a gamer?’

‘Yes. Hardcore.’ He laughs drily and Alix sees a strange look pass across Josie’s face. Why hasn’t Josie mentioned this aspect of Erin’s existence to her? she wonders. She glances at the kitchen clock and sees that it is nearly eight o’clock. She apologises to Josie and Walter and calls Nathan again. This time it doesn’t go through to voicemail, it rings out, and she feels a surge of hope that maybe he is, right now, halfway down the street, his tie loosened, his mood softened by a couple of pints, ready to bring fresh energy to this strange gathering of people. More than anything in the world she wishes Nathan was here – Nathan with his loud voice and high-octane ways. She doesn’t care how drunk he is, she just wants him here.

‘So,’ Walter says. ‘You and Josie. That’s an odd thing, isn’t it?’

‘What, you mean …?’ She gestures at herself and then Josie.

‘Your friendship. Yes.’

‘Friendship?’ Alix replies. ‘I thought you meant the podcast.’

‘Podcast?’ he says. ‘What podcast?’

‘Oh, come on, Walter,’ says Josie. ‘I told you. I told you this.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I told you that Alix does podcasts.’

‘Well, you might have mentioned it, but you didn’t say she was doing one about you.’

‘Oh, it’s not about me. It’s about us being birthday twins. Me and Alix.’

Alix feels an awkward cloud of dishonesty pass through the room. She’d been surprised by the fact that Walter had agreed to come along and essentially make himself a part of the project and thought that maybe he was more evolved than Josie had made him sound. But no, this was, Alix realised, a classic Josie manoeuvre, like buying a Pomchi without checking that it really was a Pomchi, or allowing herself to be groomed into a lifelong relationship by a man old enough to be her own father: a sort of blundering, thoughtless, aimless approach to life. A ‘do the thing and worry about it later’ approach. And so now Alix has to go along with the subterfuge.

She clears her throat and smiles. ‘Can I top you up?’ she asks brightly, before excusing herself to get something from the larder. When she comes back, Walter and Josie are sitting in silence, chewing crisps. Alix looks at the time. It’s been ten minutes since she tried calling Nathan and he should be home by now. She calls him again. It goes to voicemail. She sighs and brings up Giovanni’s number. She wouldn’t normally, but she cannot do this by herself. She simply cannot.

‘Oh, Gio! Hi! It’s Alix. I’m sorry to bother you, but are you still with Nathan?’

The background of the call is frenetic with the sounds of laughter and music.

‘Oh, hi, Al! Yeah. Hold on. Here he is.’

A moment later Nathan is on the line. ‘Fuck,’ he says, drawling already, and it’s not even eight thirty. ‘Fuck. Alix. Fuck. I’m leaving. Right now. Literally leaving right this second. I’ll get a cab, OK? I’m so sorry. I’ll see you in … half an hour . Start eating without me, though, if you need to.’

Alix forces a stiff smile as she ends the call.

‘Everything OK?’ asks Josie.

‘Yeah, he’s on his way. Lost track of time. Said to start without him. So I’ll get this pasta on now, shall I?’

‘I’m sorry, Alix, but I think that’s disgusting.’

Alix stops halfway to the tap with the pasta pan and turns back to Josie. ‘I—’

‘Seriously. I’m sorry. But I could hear him, on the phone, slurring. And here you are, slaving over a nice meal for him, entertaining guests, looking so nice. Who does he think he is?’

Alix feels her breath catch in the back of her throat. Suddenly, she feels threatened. It’s the deathly tone of Josie’s voice, the otherness of her, Walter by her side breathing so heavily through his nose that Alix can hear it. She thinks of Leon next door in his big headphones, his legs tucked up under him on the sofa that still makes him look tiny even now he’s getting big and she wonders what she has done. She thinks of Josie on her doorstep, rifling through her recycling box, taking home the old magazine. She thinks of Walter keeping Josie locked up at home as a young woman without a key, waiting for him to get home from work. And then she thinks of Josie’s daughters with the dead eyes and she suddenly wants to scrap the whole thing; get the champagne out of the fridge and hand it back to them, hustle them down the hallway, out of the front door and forget that she had ever allowed Josie Fair into her life.

But it is too late now. They are here, on her kitchen stools, eating sweet chilli flavour Kettle Chips, waiting for her chicken, bacon and spinach alfredo, insulting her husband. She can feel Josie’s eyes boring into her and she brings the stiff smile back to her face and says, ‘Oh, it’s no big deal. Friday night, you know. I’m sure he’s not the only man out there losing track of time. Anyway, what else can I get you? Another beer, Walter?’

He nods and thanks her and she passes him a cold beer. Then Josie says, ‘Why don’t you show Walter your amazing recording studio, Alix. He loves stuff like that.’

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