Page 8 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘I suppose.’ I flop back onto the sofa and stare out the window at my neighbour’s conker tree.

Margot reads aloud, adopting the unflattering, plum-in-the-mouth voice she uses when mimicking Jon. ‘“Hello darling. Missing yousomuch. Looks like I’m needed for another week on the Marrakesh/Madrid route. Back in London as soon as poss. Kisses.” Bloody hell – he’s laying it on a bit thick, isn’t he? And he’s addedfartoo many emojis for a grown-arse man.’

‘I feel ill.’

Margot sets down the phone and looks at me, her sarcastic expression falling away. ‘I would too, hun. He’s not even a fucking pilot.’

‘I know. From what I can tell, theonlytruth he’s told me is that he’s British.’

I inhale slowly, bravely examining Jon’s mounting number of lies. I’m positive that ‘I love you’ should be added to the tally.

Then that depressing question raises its hideous head again:Was any of it real?

‘You know what?’ says Margot, leaping up. ‘We arenotsitting around here all day moping.’

‘We’re not?’ I ask. ‘Because I could easily make a day of it – moping, wallowing… Maybe I’ll throw in some wailing and intermittent cries of “Why me?” – give my neighbours something to talk about.’

‘The only neighbour whocouldhear you if she weren’t a hundred and three is Mrs Winterbottom. And you don’t want to scare the poor love. She’d probably drop dead of a heart attack from sheer fright.’

‘First off, she’s ninety, not a hundred and three. Second, don’t say things like that. It’s?—’

‘Bad luck, Iknow. Only I don’t know because I don’t believe in all that rubbish.’

‘Margot, can you please…?’ I draw both hands across my neck, signalling that I need her to dial it down on the Margot-isms.

‘Sorry,’ she says sincerely. ‘But one more thing and then I’ll be quiet.’

‘Fine. What is it?’

‘Just a little reminder, dear cuz, that you have access to Mayberry’s – for youanda guest. And the best part? The bill goes straight to Jon.’

I sit bolt upright as a tiny bubble of joy rises within me, elbows out and shoving its way through the muck and mire of shock and hurt.

‘Oh my god, you’re right. I’d completely forgotten. I’ve been so busy with work, I’ve only been there that one time – with Jon.’

‘Exactly – that one time when he gave you access to London’s most exclusive private club.’ She waggles her brows conspiratorially.

‘Yes, when he added me to his membership!’ I exclaim excitedly.

‘So, we’re going?’ she asks.

My smile falls away as reality intrudes on the too-brief reprieve. ‘Oh, Margot… This really is proper shit, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, hun, it is. But for today, it can be proper shit with expensive champers and a fit bloke running his hands all over you.’

I cough out a laugh. ‘A fit bloke— Oh, right… But how can you be sure the masseuse will be fit? Or a bloke for that matter?’

‘Because the universeowesyou.’

‘I thought you didn’t believe in all that rubbish?’

‘Luck – no. But the universe is a powerful force, Kate, and today it owes you a magnum of Bollinger and a fit masseuse.’

Margot’s logic may be flawed, but a day of indulgence – at Jon’s considerable expense – could give me the boost I’ll need to handle what’s to come.

‘You’re right, we’re going,’ I say decisively, and Margot perks up. ‘Spa treatments, lunch… the whole shebang.’

‘And every bit of it on Jon’s bill. It’s theleasthe can do,’ she says, breaking into an evil laugh. ‘Right,’ she says, ‘I’m going to shower, then raid your wardrobe. You call Mayberry’s and tell them to roll out the red carpet.’

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