Page 29 of The Bookshop Ladies

‘Urgh, you’re soaked.’ She couldn’t help but be aware of his warm body against hers. Maybe he realised just how close they were too. As if he’d been scalded he jumped away and for a moment seemed to forget what to say.

‘I’ll get you back for that, Kian Lawson.’ She stuck her tongue out at him, instantly dispelling the awkwardness. She looked down at the case once more; it seemed to glare at them. She would never be the sort of woman who could carry off a weekend valise. It was her lot in life to be the girl who flung clean underwear, an eyeliner pencil and uncrushable clothes into one of her brother’s old sports bags. To own a case like the one at her feet said more about great expectations than Robyn could even begin to imagine.

‘Hang on, you have to meet Imogene.’ Kian was already moving towards the cracked spider-filled urn and pulling an umbrella from it. Then he pushed out into the sheeting rain again. Robyn filled with a raging dread – Imogene – surely not? It couldn’t be THAT Imogene. Not in a million years, fate would never be that cruel. Kian would never fall for someone like Imogene – or least that’s what Robyn told herself. Still, she watched nervously as he ran around to the passenger side of his little car and opened it with the kind of care that suggested he might have the Madonna and Child inside. That only added to Robyn’s sense of dread. Eventually, she caught a glimpse of perfectly toned, tanned legs beneath a cotton gypsy skirt and the flash of an ankle bracelet on uncommonly smooth skin. She backed into the hallway to make room for them from the rain and they ran past her, a cold and powerfully fragrant tornado of giggles and entwined arms. If it was possible, Robyn actually felt her heart sink even further. She closed the door and pulled across the heavy damask curtain, as if doing so would keep out the ice wrapping itself around her spine. She stood for a moment, feeling like a child, wishing she did not have to turn around and face the truth.

‘Robyn? Is that really you?’ a shockingly familiar high-pitched voice said and a cold rivulet of sweat seeped down Robyn’s neck. No. Please, no. She turned slowly. ‘Robyn Tessier, it is you!’ Imogene Norton was staring at her through narrowed eyes, as if she was every bit as much in shock as Robyn.

‘Imogene.’ It was bad enough to be broken-hearted but to be betrayed also, this was even worse than Robyn could have imagined. And then, they were walking up the stairs to her lovely home above the shop. She heard Imogene’s voice, still horribly familiar, still with that cruel catch as if she might be making fun of you. Robyn was vaguely aware of her recounting a sanitised version of theirfriendship.Perhaps if she hadn’t been in complete shock and despair, Robyn might have had the energy to correct her.

They had never been friends. In fact, they had been the opposite of friends. It was Imogene who had caused so much trouble for Robyn. It was Imogene who turned Albertine against her, first with an invitation to some event she had free tickets to, then later, on holiday with her family in the Alps, when Robyn had been left behind. The final blow to her friendship with Albertine had been just before the summer that Kian had arrived in Ballycove.

God, she remembered it as clearly as if it had happened just yesterday. They were on a day trip to the National Gallery. Imogene had followed Robyn to the toilets after lunch. Because everyone had the same idea, Imogene said she knew where there were more bathrooms, less likely to be crowded. Once at the end of what seemed like an eternal dark corridor, Imogene pushed open a door. Inside was complete darkness; then with an almighty shove, she thrust Robyn into what turned out to be a forgotten broom cupboard and locked her in. From inside, Robyn heard Imogene laugh, but no matter how much Robyn screamed, the girl only laughed harder.

And then, Imogene must have gone back to Albertine and the others, leaving her there, for what turned out to be the remainder of the day. She was only lucky she hadn’t been expelled for holding up the whole class.

Of course, no one believed her when she said it was Imogene. Albertine had been brought in on the joke and in the end Robyn had to apologise for causing the group such upset and ruining everyone’s day.

‘So you already know each other?’ Kian was dripping over the rug, too wet to sit, too curious to leave the two women alone.

‘Hardly at this point, but we were in school together,’ Imogene said, as if none of it mattered now. ‘It was sooo long ago,’ she made a face at Robyn before leaning back against Kian. Yes, she was one ofthosewomen, the sort who like to pretend they might be blown away in a storm if the nearest man doesn’t hold onto them. Margot would have had a field day.

‘Oh, Imogene, I could never forget you,’ Robyn managed to say.

‘I know, isn’t she just wonderful,’ Kian said utterly oblivious to the fault line stretching between the two women that might as well have San Andreas signposted at its centre.

19

‘I know about Patrice,’ Fern said when Luc walked into the kitchen that evening.

‘It’s not…’ he began but then stopped, his hand on the satchel he carried to work every day, his fingers whitening with the pressure. Suddenly, Fern saw it for exactly what it was: an absurd affectation only a vain Frenchman would carry. A man-bag made from expensively distressed Italian leather to go with the richly coloured silk scarf he wore from September right through to April, even on those days when it wasn’t actually cold.

‘What I think? Is that what you’re going to say, Luc? It’s not what I think.’ She heard herself laugh, but of course there was nothing even vaguely amusing about this conversation. They were just a mildly pathetic couple who had lost their way. Yes. Maybe both of them, even though she had no intention of sugar-coating this for Luc. He had betrayed her and it hurt more than she could have ever imagined.

‘Okay. So… It’s…’

‘Yes?’ because she needed to know.

She sat back now in the dining room chair and looked at him. Really looked at him. Silence. The seconds ticked by, loudly. Suddenly, it occurred to her, he wasn’t making any excuses. He wasn’t telling her it meant nothing; that this girl meant nothing to him. That his marriage was something he wanted to save. Her husband of over twenty years was saying none of those words. ‘Well, I mean, do you actually think you might love her?’ She couldn’t believe she had to ask. How could he love her? She was a twenty-year-old secretary and not all that attractive with it.

‘I…’ He pulled out the chair opposite her. ‘It is complicated. Love? Pah. What is love anyway?’ He did that thing – puffing out his cheeks, turning up his hands, shrugging. It had always allowed him to sidestep questions he didn’t want to answer.

‘I would have thought, that as we approach our silver wedding anniversary, you might have some idea of what love is, Luc?’ She wanted to cry.

‘You’ve always been so good at turning things around.’ He looked sulkily at the floor and she wanted to tell him that he was too old to throw a tantrum.

‘I don’t think I’ve turned anything around. In fact, all I’ve done is what I’ve always done… keep on keeping on.’ It was the truth. She’d got up this morning like every other morning, made some calls and then headed into town to talk about an upcoming exhibition that now seemed as likely to happen as feeding chickens on the moon.

‘How did you find out?’ He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. ‘Of course, Pauline…’ he said.

‘Pauline.’ She managed to keep her voice vague. Pauline Bamford had never really been her friend, not really, not like Margot.

‘She said what goes on in our marriage is none of her business, but it seems she has made it her business.’

‘And is it none of my business either, then?’ It was the first time she’d allowed the venom to escape her. Pauline. Bloody Pauline. Just because her own marriage had flushed itself down the drain. What on earth sort of woman doesn’t tell you she knows your husband is having an affair? Oh of course, the kind of woman who never really liked you to begin with.

‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ he said and he turned to walk out of the door.

‘You can’t just pretend this isn’t happening,’ she called after him.

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