Page 90 of Mad About You

‘She was eyeing Jon’s potential as soon as we split?’

‘Yeah, I reckon. Sorry. Obviously, had I thought for a second she was capable of this back then, I’d have spoken up. I assumed it was idle stirring.’

‘I guess she’s scheming being supported through the next phase of her career too,’ Harriet said, glumly.

When the thunderbolt of this receded, Harriet knew she’d simply be very, very sad. The times they’d shared, for what? To end like this. A friend she’d cried her mascara off with, in laughter and tears, would drive hundreds of miles for in the middle of the night (and had done). Roxy had held her other hand, the night her grandma died.

‘Oh, itallcomes down to money,’ Lorna said. ‘Rox is approaching a crunch point, wants her own company, wants a family. She was on the hunt for a man who can bankroll it, and if we’re the price, she’ll pay it.’

Harriet shook her head.

‘There are wealthy men out there who aren’t my ex. It’s not every night you discover a friend you’ve had for almost half your life doesn’t care about you versus presents in blue bags.’

‘Money is a drug, it’s toxic. Quincy Jones says of creativity: “God walks out of the room when you’re thinking about money”,’ Lorna said, picking at a salvaged picnic empanada.

‘I hope for God’s sake He leaves rooms with Jon and Roxy,’ Harriet said. She covered her eyes, fresh hell hitting her. ‘Oh no. They’re having sex. I don’t know how to compute this. I know what fifty per cent of it looks like!’

‘I refuse to imagine any per cent of it. Fair play to Jon; ifyou’d asked me which man would blow us apart, I’d never have picked him. How are we going to live down our Yoko being Les Dennis?’

‘Think she’ll regret it? He’s doing this to hurt me. Tons of men would like Roxy for herself, not use her as a pawn.’

‘Hmmm,’ Lorna chewed contemplatively. ‘I don’t think Rox was everlooking for lurve, she’s not made that way. As we can see, cos she doesn’t love us. I don’t think the depth of Jon’s feelings will matter to her. But yes, I think she might miss us, in the future. She’s never understood the value of things that can’t be bought.’

The Tiffany bangle that had been Roxy’s undoing – while Roxanne would have been incapable of refusing such a bribe, Jon must’ve known that her suddenly dripping in jewellery that cost a month’s whole salary could have alerted her friends that something was up.

It was a risk he was happy to take on her behalf, he was using her as an advertising hoarding. The manipulation made Harriet seasick. It was a paler shade of Scott.

There was a knock on the misted glass of the door and Lorna shouted: ‘We’re closed,’ and then: ‘Bollocks, it’s Gethin, sorry dear.’ She laughed.

He’d ascended todear. They were really real.

Harriet considered what a lie it was that frivolous behaviour led to romantic ruin. She had been the timid serial monogamist, Lorna had only ever, unapologetically, pursued fun. She had carved her way through Tinder like a Mongol warlord annexing feudal kingdoms. Yet Lorna had found love, or love had found her – and Harriet hadn’t.

‘Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting anything …?’

Gethin was in a suit, clasping a box of flowers, a profusion of green and pink-tinged hydrangeas.

‘You’re not, but actually, I was about to go,’ Harriet said. ‘No offence to you, Gethin. I’m swimming in booze and it’s been a day. I’ll let your girlfriend explain. Happy birthday Lorna!’

As Harriet’s taxi pulled away, she saw them embracing in the moodily lit window of the deserted restaurant, looking like a Jack Vettriano painting.

Harriet stumbled back through the front door, stood in the hallway and announced: ‘Blurgh,’ to no one in particular. She assumed her landlord would be in bed.

Cal emerged from the sitting room. He was gleaming, as per, like a Cadillac, to Harriet’s eyes – fantastically attractive, at least in part due to being refreshingly sober. He was the human equivalent of a bed of crisp white linen on a day of sweaty toil and wheel grease.

‘Nice night?’

She got the faintest sense he’d been waiting up for her, but dismissed it with a wave of the hand that encompassed the whole day.

‘No. I found out Jon is sleeping with one of my best friends, Roxanne. As revenge. Well, ex-best friend.’

‘God, really?’ he boggled.

‘Yes. Gross,’ Harriet said, except it came out ‘Grosh.’

‘You need sleep,’ Cal said, making a swift assessment as Harriet swayed, gently. He went to the kitchen, returned with a pint of water. He put his hand in Harriet’s to lead her upstairs.

She was aware of a huge tidal wall of wine between her and experiencing this moment properly, but Drunk Brain sent a message to Future Brain, saying:this is very pleasant.

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