‘Kate?’ Renee tried again. ‘Seriously, are you OK?’
‘Yeah, I think I’m just going to go and find somewhere quiet for a moment.’
‘I can come with you?’
‘No, I’ll be fine. You finish your lunch. We only have ten minutes left anyway before we have to head back up.’
Kate found her way to the staff toilets, locked herself in a cubicle, sat down on the closed lid, and pulled out her phone. It was still the top item in her Facebook feed. A photo album, put up by Elise, the oldest of her friends, celebrating her hen party, which must have happened the weekend before. A hen party Kate should have been invited to. A hen party that implied a wedding was imminent, and one that Kate had clearly not been invited to either.
It was a spa weekend in Barcelona, and all the old school gang were there. Even India, whom Kate had never really liked and who was not a part of the original gang. India looked great, of course. Everyone did. They were all toned, and wore tight jeans and pretty tops and stylish coats – because even though it was Barcelona, it was still January – and then there were all the bikini pictures as they sat in the hot tub, or got full body massages, or drank beautiful cocktails by the indoor pool.
‘The perfect way to start a perfect year!’ the album had been captioned. Kate could hear Elise’s voice: bright and peppy and so sweet it stung.
A photo of Elise with her arms wrapped around India, kissing her on the cheek.
A photo of Elise wearing a shiny ‘bride’ sash and standing outside the Sagrada Família holding aloft a bottle of champagne.
A photo just of hands, with everyone showing off their perfect, brand-new, matching pink manicures.
Shots of shots, all lined up along a bar.
Perfect, pouting group shots.
Alongside Elise and India were the whole gang: Bella and Rosie, Lucy and Georgina, and then there were loads of other people Kate didn’t know. Maybe newer friends, or family Kate hadn’t met or had forgotten over the years. It made her sick that she wasn’t there. It made her breath catch in her chest, and her eyes fill with hot tears. They were her gang, her friends. Weren’t they?
Kate cried as she imagined the conversation.
Georgina: ‘But what about Kate?’
India: ‘Let me guess, couldn’t afford it?’
Elise: ‘Well, there is that of course . . . probably. But here’s the thing, I haven’t invited her to the wedding.’
Rosie: ‘Oh thank God, she’s been so boring since she lost that job. We barely see her any more anyway.’
Bella: ‘But it must be hard for her . . .’ (Bella was always the nice one, and Kate chose to imagine her still being nice now.)
Elise: ‘You mustn’t say anything. None of you. Not a word.’
Lucy: ‘I haven’t actually spoken to her for ages.’
Georgina: ‘Neither have I, to be honest.’
Rosie: ‘Like she’s fallen off the face of the earth.’
India: ‘You know, I think she’s still single?’
Georgina: ‘Still? Has she ever had a boyfriend?’
India: ‘I don’t think so.’
Elise: ‘Plus I would have had to make her a bridesmaid if she came, and I just can’t imagine any of the dresses I have in mind suiting her, you know what I mean?’
She saw them all laughing and clinking champagne glasses, pleased to be rid of her.
Maybe it was her fault in part, but she’d always felt like she had time. Time to get everything sorted, time to get herself back on her feet and feel good about herself again. There had been issues in the past, moments of tension, but wasn’t that normal? There was even that time she had thought about confronting India about her little sarcastic digs, but ultimately hadn’t. They’d been going on for so long that they almost felt normal, just a quirk of India’s she had to adjust to, like they had to adjust to hers.
Then came the crashing wave of insecurity: was it because she had gained weight? Was it because she was poor and working a crummy job? Was it because her parents paid half her rent every month, and sometimes more? Was it because she had never had a boyfriend?
The thought that somehow her old girlfriends had figured out her deepest, darkest secret brought on the hyperventilation, until her breathing and her tears became indistinguishable from each other. Had they finally realised that she was still a virgin? Was this why everything was going so horribly wrong?
The voice of her insecurity, always a faint hum somewhere in the background, now became angry and loud:
You’re not like them.
They’re all thin, you’re not.
They’ve all had sex, you haven’t.
They were never really your friends.
‘Kate?’ Renee was outside the cubicle, her voice soft and calm.
‘I’m OK!’ Kate called out, her voice full of forced cheerfulness.
‘Please, open the door. Tell me what’s going on.’
‘You’ll be late. You’ll throw the whole rota off. Really, I’m fine.’
‘Will you please stop telling me you’re fine? You’re clearly not fine.’
‘It’s just . . . it’s just hard,’ Kate confessed through the toilet stall door.
‘I know.’
‘I lost my job, I’m losing my flat. Nothing is going the way it’s meant to. And now I’ve lost my old friends too.’ Her voice was quiet but inside it felt like a yell. The feeling so big she imagined the mirrors in the toilet cracking, a fault opening up through the tiled floor, a dark, oppressive cloud of anxiety crashing down on them both.
‘I’ll talk to the duty manager,’ Renee said softly, ‘I’ll tell them you’re ill, that you’re going home.’
Rubbing at her eyes to dry the tears, Kate stood up and opened the stall door.
‘I can’t afford to take the time off. I need all the hours I can get,’ she replied sadly, moving to the mirror. The contract at the gallery meant that they didn’t get any sick leave, and were only paid for the hours they worked.
‘You don’t have to tell me what’s going on if you don’t want to.’
The reflection that greeted Kate was a mess. She pulled her long, fair hair out of its scrappy bun and let it tumble over her shoulders, before deciding that she hated it and wrapping it back up again, smoothing the last loose strands away from her forehead. Her face was round anyway, but now she was red and puffy to boot.
‘No, it’s OK. You’re probably going to think it’s stupid anyway.’
Kate told Renee about the pictures as they returned their bags to their lockers, and then started to make their way back upstairs.
‘It’s so stupid, getting so worked up about a Facebook post.’
‘It’s not stupid at all,’ Renee replied. ‘I completely get it.’
‘I just thought if anyone was going to understand, that they would. They were my oldest friends. They weren’t meant to give up on me so quickly. And then I thought, maybe it’s not them, maybe it’s me. I always tried really hard to keep up with them, so when I couldn’t anymore, everything was bound to fall apart.’
‘They don’t sound like real friends, Kate.’
‘Elise, the one who’s getting married? She was my best friend back in school. It was never the same after university, after I made other friends, but I didn’t think I was going to lose her. I thought we were stronger than that. We used to talk about what it would be like when we got married and we were each other’s bridesmaids. I was with her when she met her husband. And you know when you call round with the good news? I was the first person she called! How did I go from being the first person she called to the person she doesn’t even invite to her wedding?’