Page 25 of The Fall-Out

‘That must be quite the handful, with Patch being away so much.’ She smiled sympathetically.

‘He isn’t so much any more,’ I replied defensively. ‘He got promoted so he doesn’t do the six weeks offshore thing any more – he’s mostly based in London and only travels sometimes.’

And now I’d given her a clue to my husband’s whereabouts.

‘And you?’ she probed. ‘Still doing the old nine to five?’

I shook my head, watching her wide, guileless eyes follow the movement. ‘I’m a stay-at-home mum, for now. I went back after maternity leave but it was too much, so we decided I’d best pack it in for a bit. But I’m thinking of going back once they start school.’

‘And how about the old gang? Abbie, Kate, Rowan – you guys still see each other?’

‘Yes, same as always. Second Wednesday of every month. But we talk online every day.’

‘Ah.’ She sighed, her fingers pressed against her lips like she wanted to be blowing out cigarette smoke, not just air. ‘You know, I miss that. I’ve never had a group of friends like you guys, and I don’t expect I ever will again. It gets harder when you’re older, doesn’t it?’

Then why did you fuck it up so badly? So deliberately and unnecessarily? I wanted to know the answer, but at the same time I couldn’t bring myself to ask – because how would I know if what she told me was even true?

So I just said, ‘Yeah. We’re all really lucky.’

And then I asked her a bit about her time living and working in New York, and it turned out she’d spent a couple of years in LA as well, and a year in Hong Kong before returning to Paris. If, of course, any of that was true.

To my relief, the cab drew up outside my house, and Zara jumped swiftly out, thanking the driver and strolling up to the front door before I had the chance to offer to go in and fetch her scarf while she waited in the car.

‘Do you mind if I use your loo?’ she asked. ‘I’m absolutely bursting after all that tea.’

‘Uh… sure. It’s just up the stairs on the left.’

I watched the high heels of her boots disappear on to the landing. Don’t go into our bedroom. Or into the children’s bedroom. And if you could possibly close your eyes when you’re in the bathroom so you don’t notice the state of the floor, that would be good too.

But Zara gave no sign of having noticed anything untoward when she came strolling down the stairs a few minutes later. I’d done a hasty rummage through the blue Ikea bag of dirty washing that was spewing its contents out on to the kitchen floor and located her scarf (thank God I hadn’t put the delicate cashmere and silk garment through a hot wash), as well as my phone (likewise).

‘Love your tiles,’ she said. ‘Honestly, this place is so lovely. It really feels like a home. You should see the hovel I’m renting – it might be central but there’s no room to swing a cat. Not that I’d try swinging Bisou, obviously, she’d never put up with it.’

So then of course I had to ask her about her cat, and listen to a run-down of how she’d adopted a Bengal kitten when she was in Paris and it had been all over the world with her, and was getting on now but she loved her so much she sometimes felt like she might die.

And then, politely refusing my offer to have her scarf dry-cleaned and post it back to her, she left.

Naomi:

So that’s what happened

I typed in the Girlfriends’ Club WhatsApp.

I was perched on the edge of the bathtub, where Toby and Meredith were currently contentedly splashing each other (and me). I reckoned I had about five minutes to finish updating my friends on the day’s events before the twins got bored and started demanding more bubbles or wanting to get out.

Kate:

OMG I can’t believe the brass neck of her! Just turning up like that.

Naomi:

I mean, to be fair, it’s just paying a social visit on an elderly woman and playing cards. It’s not like she was stealing the silver.

Rowan:

Still. That must have been awkward.

Naomi:

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