Page 99 of Mad About You

Harriet briefly hoped that Marianne wasn’t envisaging a revenge that involved flashlights and tarps and quarry pits.

‘His other ex, Nina, she said she’d help me if she could. Should the three of us meet up? She might have some genius idea?’

‘Yes!’ Then Marianne’s face fell: ‘Although I’d have to tell Scott I’m seeing my mum again. Given there’s always wedding things to be faffed about, hopefully he’d buy it.’

‘What about work? In your breaks? We could meet you for coffee at lunchtime and he’d never know.’

‘That’d be OK.’ Pause. ‘Thank you so much, Harriet. I know you’ve taken a lot of shit for my sake when you could’ve walked away.’

‘I haven’t really done anything yet,’ Harriet said, and Marianne cut her off: ‘Yes, you have.’

Harriet walked Marianne to the bus stop, and as they parted, Marianne added Harriet to her phone as ‘Heather: Florist.’

Harriet had to suppress the thought:Game On.

After Marianne’s departure, a slightly euphoric and frayed Harriet explained to Cal what the visit had been about, Sam having left while they plotted in the garden. To her surprise, he was uncharacteristically subdued, and cautious.

‘To all intents and purposes, for now she’s still missus to a total demon, isn’t she? What if this is part of a plot by whatshisname – Scott?’ he said, stuffing pizza boxes into the recycling bin.

‘I know what you mean. She might take it all back and get married anyway. But coming to see me feels like a big enough step that she’s actually ready to get out.’

Cal looked up and paused, clearly wanting to vocalise something and not knowing how.

‘Was he ever violent?’ Cal said eventually. As he looked at her, Harriet could sense something had developed between them, though she wasn’t quite sure what. They were truly friends, and yet this wasn’t a friendship that would outlast being on these premises, of that she was sure. Given thestrength of that conviction, she’d expect to have a clear reason why to back it up. But she didn’t: other than the instinct they were very dissimilar. Much as she wanted to think they’d meet up from time to time, she couldn’t see it.

This rapport with Cal Clarke was time out of Real Life. It was as if she was on a plane where they’d overbooked Economy, and she’d been sent to sit next to him in First Class. At first, they’d resented the proximity, bickering, then they’d settled in and had a raucous time on the complimentary G&Ts. It was a chance moment of two separate paths crossing and then diverging again. When they hauled their cases from the luggage carousel, and shook hands, that would be that.

‘Oh, no. No violence. It’s emotional torture.’

Cal put his hands in the pockets of his joggers. Harriet wondered if he was relieved to only have a week left of this unasked-for commotion. First Jon, now this.

‘I don’t know why Marianne might lie, but as a journalist I know peopledolie, all the time, for any reason and no reason. Despite what crime shows tell you, people are not neat boxes of motive you can unpack and fit together like flatpack furniture. Assume nothing, Harriet. She may be doing what he wants. Or she may simply be doing what she wants, and missing some screws.’

‘Or she could be for real.’

‘Or she could be for real. I’m not saying this to stop you helping her. I don’t want you to have a nasty shock.’

‘Thanks. I know.’

‘What about the effect on your work by getting involved?’

‘I don’t know whether it’s not already knackered, to behonest. I might’ve been more wary of that if Scott hadn’t publicly shamed me already. Now the damage has been done there and I have nothing to lose.’

Cal didn’t speak, a tactful way of doubting this statement.

‘Or maybe it’s more honest and realistic to say, if I have anything left to lose, I’m prepared to lose it, to see this through.’

‘You’re very selfless.’

‘Hah, thanks,’ Harriet said. ‘I think it’s been very much to do with myself throughout. I only hope I haven’t been selfish. I hope I haven’t set off something that Marianne will later regret. Not that I think it’s possible to regret escaping Scott.’

‘Can’t start a fire, worrying about your little world falling apart, as the song says,’ Cal said, with a flirtatious smile and a shrug of concession, and Harriet swooned, despite herself.

46

‘Hello! Evil H, I presume? Enjoying an evil latte. Evilly.’

Harriet looked up from her cup to see a young woman with dark brown hair split into two bulky knots above her ears, which Harriet believed were colloquially called space buns, and a belted tweed coat with faux-fur lapels.

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