But it’s not just the requests that are worrying me; it’s the tone of the discussion. I can totally see why the government is worried about social media causing bullying among a certain generation—because Mum and Janice are getting really quite snippy with each other.
Mum keeps telling us how they do things in Shoreditch and showing off about how packed her schedule is and mentioning artisan gin tastings. Janice ended up replying: Are you sure you’ve got time for Christmas, dear, with your packed new social life?
Ouch. Although Janice has got a point. Mum was supposed to be coming with me to the Christmas Style Fair on Thursday, but at ten last night she pulled out. Apparently, she’s doing an experimental drama workshop and it’s the only day she can do it.
I mean, fair enough, experimental drama is definitely a good idea—but what about Christmas? What about me?
As I arrive at work, my head is still whirling with WhatsApp messages, but Suze greets me with, “So? So?” as though I must know what she’s talking about.
“I’m fine with the Waitrose brandy butter,” I say in a slight daze, and she clicks her tongue impatiently.
“I mean, so what happened? How was your evening with Craig? I sent you like six WhatsApps last night!”
“Oh, right.” I try to focus. “Sorry. I got distracted by all the Christmas chat. Er…it was fine. It was good. He’s got a girlfriend.”
“A girlfriend?” says Suze, looking wrong-footed.
For a moment I consider saying, “Didn’t you know he had a girlfriend, Suze?” and pretending I knew all along. But I’m not sure I can carry it off—and, anyway, I want to have a cozy gossip.
“I was surprised too,” I admit. “And guess what? She’s completely different from him! She’s called Nadine and she’s all businessy and neat. And she hates his music and travel and everything he’s about. It’s bizarre.”
“Huh,” says Suze thoughtfully as she unpacks a box of cardigans.
“I don’t know what they have in common,” I continue. “But we had a good time in the end. I think we’re going to be friends.”
“Huh,” says Suze again. She sits back on her heels and surveys me. “Where’s your rock-chick outfit gone, Bex?”
I didn’t put on my distressed-tweed suit today, just because…
OK, to be honest, it was because I woke up, looked at it, and thought, What was I thinking? I’ll have to un-distress it somehow. As for the boots, Nadine’s got a point. My feet were so sore today, I couldn’t have worn them. Not that I’ll admit this to Suze.
“Oh.” I shrug. “I’m going for a different style today. Mixing it up.”
“Now that you think Craig’s into businessy women you’re going for the businessy look?” Suze eyes me sharply, and I gasp as the meaning of her comment hits me.
“No!” I say, stung. “Of course not…No! Suze, what do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” returns Suze darkly, and there’s silence between us.
I think I know what she means.
But, on the other hand, what if she means something else?
Or, like, a third thing?
“Say it.” I lift my chin challengingly.
“You don’t even tell Luke when your ex-boyfriend turns up.” Suze counts off on her fingers. “You dress up to impress him. You go for a drink with him. Now you’re telling me Craig’s girlfriend doesn’t have anything in common with him. But you do, Bex?” She raises her eyebrows almost accusingly.
OK, I do know what she means, and she is wrong.
“Stop it,” I say indignantly. “That is not what— It wasn’t like that.”
“You’re saying Craig isn’t into you?” persists Suze. “You’re saying he wasn’t chatting you up?”
“Yes!” I exclaim. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. If you must know, both of them ignored me most of the evening. They were all over Luke. Especially Nadine. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. If anyone needs to worry, it’s me,” I add, to emphasize the point. “It’s me.”
“Hmm,” says Suze, looking unconvinced.
“Suze, what are you implying?” I can’t help sounding hurt. “You think I’m going to have an affair?”
“I didn’t say that,” Suze answers after a pause. “I just…” She hesitates. “I know how stuff can happen. You have to be careful.”
Her gaze is averted—and again I know she’s referring to her own moment of madness in the summer.
“You needn’t worry,” I say with dignity. “My marriage is safe.”
For a while we’re both silent again. Suze is still unloading cardigans, and I start putting them on the display rack.
“So are you going to Craig’s Christmas party?” Suze says after a while, and I feel a little stab of guilt. Suddenly I get it. Suze feels left out. That’s what this is.
“We’ll all go,” I say firmly. “And, Suze, you have to come next time we meet up. Oh, and do you want to come to the Christmas Style Fair with me on Thursday?” I add, remembering. “Mum’s pulled out. I’ll pay for the extra cover for the shop. We can ask Irene’s niece; she’s always happy to do it. All my treat.”
“Oh, Bex,” says Suze, looking torn. “I would have loved to. But I’ve got this big project I want to finish over the next couple of days. I’m going to have to say no.”
“What big project?” I stare at her in surprise. This is the first time I’ve heard of any big project.
“Just…something for the shop,” she says vaguely. “You’ll see.”
“What?” I demand.
“It’s a secret. You’ll like it,” she adds with a grin. “I promise. In fact, you’ll love it. But I need all of Thursday to get it done.”
“OK. No worries.”
I think for a moment, wondering who else I can ask. Jess is in Cumbria, and she wouldn’t approve of the Christmas Style Fair, anyway. She’d stride around, gazing sternly at the stallholders, telling them they shouldn’t sell chili-pepper fairy lights, they should make candles out of recycled chilis, or just sit in the dark as nature intended.
Then I have an idea. I take out my phone and text Janice:
Hi, Janice! Do you want to come to the Christmas Style Fair on Thursday with me? I have a spare ticket. Becky xxx
Almost at once I get an answer:
Oh, love, how wonderful! Yes, please! Looking forward to it already! Janice xxx
She sounds so excited, I feel a glow of pleasure. Janice was exactly the right person to ask. I’ll book her a nice lunch and everything. It’ll be fun!
Will send you electronic ticket and see you in there. Yay! Becky xxx
I’m about to put my phone away when another text arrives from Janice:
Aren’t you going with your mum, though? Or is she too busy in “Shoreditch”? Janice xxx
Oh God. Look at those quote marks. Those are totally snippy quote marks. I don’t want to stir up any trouble between them, so I think for a moment, then send back a deliberately vague answer:
She’s busy! Never mind, we’ll have fun! Better go now! xx
As I put my phone away, Suze glances at her watch and moves toward the shop door to open it. But I don’t feel we’re quite done with our conversation.
“Suze, wait,” I say impulsively, and she turns round.
“What?”
“I know you mean well,” I say earnestly. “But you mustn’t worry. I’m not going to have an affair with Craig.”
“Well, just don’t, will you?” she returns with energy. “Because it would ruin Christmas.”
Ruin Christmas? OK, even though I’m absolutely not planning on committing adultery, I have to take issue with this statement.
“No, it wouldn’t,” I contradict her. “No one would know.”
“Yes, they would,” Suze scoffs. “You’re hopeless at keeping secrets, Bex. You’d probably come in on Christmas Day and say, ‘What do you think of my Having an Affair skirt? Isn’t it fab?’ ”
I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.
* * *
—
For the rest of the day, we’re really busy in the shop and neither of us mentions Craig, so I assume this means the subject is over. We sell a stack of Suze’s homemade photo frames (on special offer), two walking sticks, a tweed coat, a couple of hampers, and loads of jam. At lunchtime Suze and I help Irene find a nice sweater for her niece in Australia, after visiting about six hundred websites, tabbing them all, and nearly crashing the computer. (I hadn’t realized quite how indecisive Irene was.)
But then, as we’re all walking out at the end of the day, Suze pulls me back, saying in fake tones, “Oh, Bex, there was something I just wanted to mention.”
She waits until Irene is well out of earshot, then clears her throat and stares at me as though she doesn’t know where to begin.
“What?” I say, puzzled.
“OK,” says Suze in a rush. “Here’s what happened. I googled Craig to see what kind of guy he is.”
“Suze.” I glare at her. “Are you still obsessing about that?”
“I know, I know.” Suze looks abashed. “It’s none of my business. But, anyway, I found this interview online, and…Well. I think you should see it.” She proffers her phone and I stare at an incomprehensible stream of text, accompanied by a photo of Craig.
“It’s in…” I make a face. “What’s that language?”
“Oh, sorry, that’s the original,” says Suze without blinking. “It’s Latvian. You have to put it through Google Translate.”
“Which I assume you’ve done already,” I say pointedly. “Because you’re an obsessive stalker.”