‘Don’t worry about it.’ She sniffs and dabs at her eye make-up with the pad of her thumb. ‘I just wanted tonight to be perfect.’
‘Don’t be silly, it is perfect.’
She looks so put out there’s no way I can ask about the flowers now.
‘You’ve got a new menu,’ I say, to buy time. Izzy and Rich have the menus from all the Michelin-star restaurants they go to framed and displayed in their loo. I considered doing the same thing in our bathroom but the Pizza Express menu doesn’t have the same kind of visual appeal.
‘Yeah, Rich had a client lunch at Marcus Wareing at the Berkeley last week and I tagged along. The pudding was to die for.’ Izzy brightens. ‘Now, which perfume do you want? Issey Miyake or this old Number Seven that Jenny gave me yonks ago.’
‘Number Seven.’ I hold out my wrists. ‘Issey Miyake’s yours.’
Izzy sprays my wrists then dumps both bottles at the side of the sink. She starts examining her face in the mirror.
I bite my lip. I don’t want to upset her again but I know the image of the flowers in the bin will keep nagging at me if I don’t mention it. ‘Izzy?’
‘Yup.’ She’s pouting at herself.
‘This is going to sound weird but did you by any chance chuck away the flowers I bought you? Only, I thought I saw them in the bin and I was wondering—’
In the mirror Izzy’s face freezes.
‘You saw that?’
‘I saw it.’
Izzy puts down the lipstick she’s been applying. ‘I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Embarrassed?’ I try and keep my voice light even though I had to go to three different flower stalls to get the roses. And they cost a fortune. ‘Why are you embarrassed?’
‘I was embarrassed for you, hon. They were absolutely covered in bugs.’
‘What?’
‘That’s why I chucked them. I’d never throw perfectly good flowers away. Especially since this house is in desperate need of brightening up. I was so caught up with decorating today I forgot to go to the flower market. But when I went to pick yours off the table, I spotted a mite at the edge of the paper. When I looked closer the flowers were riddled with them. You should go back to the florist and complain. It’s not on. They looked expensive too.’
‘They were.’ My anger recedes, leaving a tidemark of humiliation in its wake.
‘You didn’t think I threw them away for the sake of it, did you?’ Izzy’s eyes bore into me.
I look away. ‘I didn’t know what to think.’
‘You and your suspicious mind,’ Izzy giggles. ‘Do you remember when you were convinced your dad was having an affair with his boss because she kept giving him lifts home from work? Or when you thought your mum was… anyway, your little mind must have been going overtime on this one. Like a hamster on a wheel.’ She dabs an invisible mark at the corner of her mouth. ‘They were so gorgeous too. I love roses. It’s been a long time since I had any. Now come on, you don’t smell like an ashtray any more, we better get back out there. My parents are dying to see you.’
She flicks the bathroom lock and sashays into the hall leaving me no choice but to follow.
‘You haven’t seen Rich this evening, have you?’ she says casually as I close the door behind us. ‘He’s been AWOL since about eight o’clock.’
‘Not much.’ I hesitate. I’ve got a feeling if she knows Rich has been outside smoking with me, she won’t like it. But the mention of Rich tugs something in the back of my mind. If the flowers were crawling with bugs, why didn’t Rich notice them?
‘He’s probably holed up in his study trying to cram a few more words in,’ Izzy carries on, oblivious. ‘He’s so caught up in that book some days he barely exists in the real world. The other day I caught him pouring Tilly’s maple syrup on his cornflakes he was so distracted.’
Too distracted to notice flowers full of bugs? Rich won’t even travel by bus because of the dirt on the seats. Bugs are the kind of thing he’d notice. But why would Izzy lie? By her own admission, the house is bereft of flowers. Long-stemmed roses would have made a nice centrepiece for their hall table. And she’s my best friend. She’s right about Rich, he has been distracted lately. He couldn’t even finish his sentences outside. And he’s a bloke. Why would he be peering at a bunch of flowers anyway?
‘Sounds delightful.’
Izzy laughs and I file my doubts away. I let her take me by the arm and march me back towards the kitchen, our heels clicking against the wood in unison.
Six
11.22 p.m.
I push open the door to the sitting room and breathe in the smell of cloves. The fire’s roaring and it seems much warmer in here than the rest of the house. Rich and Rob are propped against the fireplace chatting while Ed sits in the armchair by the bay window, checking his emails. I feel a swell of affection. Only he would be working at a party. In the corner a couple of his co-workers are having a drunken debate about whether it would be quicker to call a cab or Uber home. The party’s definitely thinned out. Even Jenny and David Waverly are shrugging their coats on.
‘I’m glad we got to see you before we left!’ Jenny says as she comes over, David in her wake. Staring at him is like looking at a snapshot of future-Rich. They’ve got the same wide rugby shoulders and mop of dark hair without a speck of grey. David even used to work at Rich’s bank before he retired. He got him the place on the graduate scheme. And he never lets him forget it. Jenny is prattling. I think she might be a little drunk. Or maybe I am. It seems like every sentence that comes out of her mouth should end with an exclamation mark.
‘Such a pleasure, as always! I had some photos I wanted to show you! There isn’t time now! Never mind! I was talking to Robert about having the pair of you over for lunch with the boys when Henry’s next back. And Richard and Charles, of course. Something of a childhood reunion! Wouldn’t that be fun?’
‘That would be lovely.’ Funny to think we ran in and out of the Waverlys’ house as children, as if it were our own. Now, aside from Rich, I barely see them. ‘I was sorry Charlie and Laura couldn’t make it tonight.’
‘They wanted to,’ Jenny says as David drifts away raising one hand in a lazy farewell. ‘They’ve got a lot on. And if Henry hadn’t just been over, I’m sure he’d have popped in. You know he likes a party. Now, don’t be a stranger.’
She plants a kiss on both my cheeks then heads out of the door after David, leaving me standing on my own in the middle of the room. I wander over to the vintage drinks trolley parked by the enormous Christmas tree at the back of the room. As I’m walking, I notice the carpet in here is new. It’s blush-coloured and heavily textured, already wearing the tiny smudges of people’s footprints. Izzy clearly didn’t ask people to take their shoes off like she did to me when she replaced the carpet in her bedroom. I smirk, imagining Jenny Waverly’s reaction to being asked to remove her Tod’s. Then I pour red wine into a glass the size of a fishbowl and take a gulp.
‘Hey, you.’ Rich materialises at my side. ‘I wanted to say thanks for the chat outside. You helped me see that Iz going back to work could be a good thing.’