Page 7 of This is Where I Leave You

“Right well, obviously slasher flicks were a humongous fuck up faux-pas on my part, how about a bit of Edward Cullen?” She waved the DVD of Breaking Dawn at her.

“Sure that sounds great. But remember, I am and ALWAYS will be Team Jacob, you can keep your boring vamp, give me a hot blooded wolf any day.”

Cady continued to fork more chicken and cashew nuts and fried rice into her mouth. Man she was starving tonight! She had already polished off the prawn toast, and even as she was eating she couldn’t stop her mind wandering to the large tub of Phish Food that was in the freezer. Mind you, she had not eaten much, it wouldn’t do her any harm to binge tonight.

“I have my appointment at the clap clinic tomorrow. I am dreading it. Thought my days of worrying about STDs were over, being married and all.”

“Hmmm,” replied Georgina. Cady glanced at her friend. She was sat beside her on the couch, slim legs encased in skinny designer jeans, Pandora bracelet clinking against her wine glass. Her tight white top showed off her toffee tan, and her nails as always were buffed, polished and perfect.

“Are you not listening to me?”

“Huh?” George jumped at her voice. “Oh, sorry mate, I am listening, really I am. I just have a few things on my mind at the minute, nothing to worry about.”

Reaching for the DVD remote, she paused Bella mid-gurn. Why did that girl never smile, with two hot guys after her?

“Spill it. Now.”

George ran her hand through her hair, and avoiding Cady’s gaze, took a large gulp of wine.

“Cady, I love you, you know that, but I am worried about you. You are acting like you have been dumped, not…not..”

“Widowed?” Cady offered, raising her eyebrows. “I WAS dumped George, he left me for another woman and then he died. End of. If he had been alive he would have still been gone. With HER.” She spat that last word out with venom and went to take her now empty plate to the dishwasher. George followed, glass in hand.

“I know Cady, but he died! Your husband died! You are not grieving; I haven’t seen you cry…”

“I HAVE CRIED!” She shouted back, slamming the plate into the dishwasher in anger. “I have!” Cady remembered the last time she had cried over Richard, when she fell into Marcus’s arms and then…. Her cheeks flushed as she thought of Marcus’s lips, the way his hair felt between her fingers. She shook her head at the memory and turned to face George.

“George, I have cried, ok? I can’t grieve for him because it feels fake. He left me! What am I, a divorcee, a widow? I just don’t know how to feel, I just hate him SO MUCH, I can’t help it.”

George made a move towards her, stopping when Cady motioned to stop her.

“No Cady, you don’t hate him, you are grieving. You have to, you are making yourself ill, shutting yourself away like this, and you look awful. I bet that meal is the first proper thing you have eaten in days, and what the hell happened in here?”

George motioned to the blank spaces on the walls and the sparse look of the room. Following her worried expression, Cady had to take note of what her friend was seeing. She had pretty much given everything of Richard’s away from downstairs. Upstairs was a different story, she had shown the driver where the tea chest was and then locked the study door behind him. She could not deal with seeing his office, or his things in their room yet, and she didn’t want the two biddies loose up there either.

Fortunately, they had both took a look at Cady and ordered her right to bed, then bustled away with their booty.

“Richard’s mother and aunt came, they were left some things in the will, ok? I don’t want to look at his stuff.” Cady sat down at the breakfast bar, her mouth small and weak now. “Look mate, I am fine, alright? I wanted to ask you tonight if you would help me with Richard’s things from upstairs, but I see now that you are not the best person to ask. I don’t want to fall out. Please. I really just don’t have the energy this evening.”

George nodded. “Ok, well I have to go. Please Cady, leave his stuff. Just for a little while. You might regret it later and then it will be too late.”

George kissed her pale cheek, put on her cream wool coat and left.

Cady sat on the stool, utterly shattered and deplete of everything and anything. She looked around the bare open plan living area. This place had never felt like home, she had never felt like it was hers. Richard chose everything from the carpets to the

curtains to the type of washing powder they used. When had she become this meek follower? No-one knew the truth, not really. Cady had felt disjointed for years, not quite alive. Richard was a fine husband, he worked hard, showed her affection and care, remembered their anniversary. Stuff of perfection, right? Everyone seemed to think so, everywhere they went people admired them, wanted to be them, this happy, rich loved up couple. They did not know the truth though. She did not love Richard, hadn’t for a while. Because this wasn’t the first time he had cheated on her. And tomorrow would not be the first time she had been humiliated at the sexual health clinic either.

CHAPTER 9

Waking up in her luxurious apartment, Georgina Elliott heard the click of the coffee maker. Ah, Magda was here. George slipped out of her Egyptian cotton sheets, pulled her silk kimono over her black lace negligee, and let her nose take her to the kitchen. Turning her thoughts to the previous night, she remembered how ill and frail Cady looked. She had to speak to someone, get her some help. Her parents would do more harm than good, best they are not worried with this, and Richard’s family had lost a son themselves. Apart from each other, they only had work colleagues, they had never felt the need for a large circle of friends. Her aunt, she suddenly thought. Of course! She had brought her up after all, she would get through to Cady, and she would know how to help. Feeling better already, she resolved to ring her first thing. Together they would come up with a plan to help her. Georgina brightened at the thought of helping her friend. She just hated to see her like this. Richard had a bloody lot to answer for, that was for sure. If it hadn’t been a taxi that had hit him, she might have thought it was some wronged woman trying to take him out for the sake of humanity and the safety of women everywhere. They could probably plead insanity under the Scourge of the Sleazeball act too. Entering the kitchen, she was suddenly starving.

Her small, broad maid, Magda, was emptying the dishwasher and laying out croissants and Danish pastries. “Good morning, Miss Elliott, you sleep well, yes?”

George slid into a seat at the small round table, smiling at the sound of her name in Hungarian born Magda’s broken English accent.

“I keep telling you Maggie, it’s Georgina, ok?”

“Oh yes miss, I mean Georgina,” Magda stuttered, turning to put some cream in a bowl. Pouring out a fresh coffee into George’s favourite mug, adorned with Eric Northman, True Blood’s Viking vamp, she set the steaming hot coffee in front of her.

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