Page 45 of The Fall-Out

You’re off the hook. Have a lovely day xxx

And now here I was, with plans to go and see a movie with him. Just a movie. The kind of thing teenagers did on a first date. Only we weren’t teenagers, and this wasn’t a date. But it was also the kind of thing friends did together on a Saturday afternoon when they had time on their hands, I reassured myself. I’d be able to text Zara afterwards – Saw Patch today, we went to the cinema. He’s missing you like crazy xxx – with a clear conscience, because there was no way it could be interpreted as anything other than innocent.

And it was innocent, I told myself. Since that New Year’s Eve, there’d been no repeat of the moment of connection I’d felt with Patch – the pang of heartache for him that had made me want to hold him close and protect him from hurt.

And now I felt as if he needed protection more than ever. The promise I’d made to Zara when we were in Paris – that I’d see Patch, hang out with him, report back to her if his behaviour seemed suspicious in any way – had troubled me at the time. And now I had the sense that there’d been something else behind her request: a need for me to keep Patch busy on his free weekends while Zara herself was otherwise occupied.

Earlier in the week, we’d exchanged text messages that had left me feeling profoundly uneasy.

Zara:

Hey Nome, what’s up?

Naomi:

Not much. Work’s hectic. How about you?

Zara:

Same, same. Listen, did you know Patch is in London this weekend?

Naomi:

He mentioned he was on a break from work but I thought he’d be going to Paris to see you. Why?

Zara:

Yeah, no, he’s not.

Then my phone had rung and I’d spent half an hour frantically juggling my boss’s diary to fit in an important client who wanted to meet with her urgently, but only had three half-hour slots available over the next fortnight.

When I next checked my mobile, there’d been another, longer text from Zara.

Zara:

I just spoke to him. I said he should go to London and hang out with you if you’re free. But Nome, if he asks, I’m in Stockholm for fashion week, right? Actually if anyone asks. Okay?

I felt as if I’d entered into some kind of unholy pact with her – and with myself. Lying on her behalf, because that was the only way to protect Patch from being hurt. Having to deny any feelings I might have for Patch – because it would be disloyal to her. And now, lying to Rowan about both those things.

It made the innocent plan Patch was suggesting feel grubby and illicit. It made me feel bad about something I should be feeling good about. It made me feel like a bad friend for not helping Rowan out when I could have cancelled Patch’s and my arrangement before anything was even properly arranged. Except then he might have altered his own plans and gone to Paris to see Zara and found – what?

I was caught in the middle of an ever more complex tangle of lies and half-truths, and I didn’t feel good about any of it.

Still lying in bed, I checked my phone and saw another message from Patch.

PATRICK HAMILTON:

Hold on, just looked outside. It’s gorgeous! Maybe we should go for a picnic or something instead?

A picnic? I imagined telling Zara that. We went for a picnic on Hampstead Heath. We had smoked salmon and champagne. No. Just no. My discomfort about coving for Zara would only be compounded if she got the sense that her boyfriend had been up to something on-the-face-of-it romantic with me.

Naomi:

Movie sounds good

Redheads like me can’t take any chances in this weather. If I go out in the sun I’ll get freckles.

PATRICK HAMILTON:

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