Page 163 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
“But what?” I look up at him as we get closer to the front door. “The theme isn’t coke whores and hookers, Digby—Jesus.”
He rolls his eyes, opens the front door and we’re greeted by a server holding a tray of champagne. Surely not.
I take one, hold it in my mouth for a second, tasting it.
Non-alcoholic, obviously.
Digby stands in the foyer like a lost puppy so I leave him there, go over to the others who I spot in the dining room. I regret bringing Digby. I know that’s bad and that I’m being quite horrible to him but the worse I am, the less it will sting when I do finally call it quits. If I get really lucky, he might even break up with me first.
Arthur spots me as I walk over to them. He looks so perfect—he always does. But it’s something different, like, being here on his birthday knowing how the past ones have gone. He looks so healthy. So happy. I’ve never seen this version of him before. Never thought I would and I think that makes me want him even more.
“Happy Birthday." I lean in, kiss his cheek, brush his hand and let it linger for a second too long.
He pulls back, grins. “Is now that you’re here.”
My stomach dips and I sip more of my faux champagne.
“Is your mum here?”
“No, couldn’t make it,” he says quickly, too quickly and then turns around for a second to greet someone who just walked past us.
“Here you go.”
I look round, Primrose comes over with two champagne glasses, hands one to Connie.
I glance over at Spencer, she shakes her head, walks off. I frown over at Connie, he shrugs, puts his hand on Primrose’s back and leads her off.
Arthur’s just about to say something to me, I think, but I walk off, looking for Spencer. I spot her in the very far end of the garden—very long legs, that one.
“Spencer!” I call after her as she storms further and further away. She stops, turns around, and I jog over to her.
“What?” She huffs, face red, eyes glassy as though she’s about to burst out into tears.
“What’s wrong?” I pant and then frown. “Did you really love him?”
She looks away, swallows, slumps her shoulders. “What do you think?”
I take a deep breath, straighten myself. “Why did you never tell him, then?”
“What was the point?” She yells. “He was always in love with Primrose—since the beginning. I was just his distraction.”
“That isn’t true,” I shake my head. “Connie sleeps with loads of girls. He wouldn’t have kept you for so long if he didn’t feel the same.”
“No!” She shouts, her voice cracking. “That isn’t true! Connie has slept with maybe three people, Phoebe! What I was to him was the equivalent to a prolonged one night stand.”
“What?” I frown.
“Yeah,” she nods, quickly wiping away a rouge tear she thinks I didn’t see. “Three people, maybe four. It’s all a show. Besides Arthur he is probably the most broken person I know and I understand why but he didn’t need to break me, as well.” And then she collapses, the tears start falling freely and she crumbles. “It wasn’t fair!”
“No, it wasn’t,” I say quietly, holding her up.
I’m not sure what went on between them. I only know what you know. I wasn’t there, in their house when they lived together or when they snuck off in school or when they kissed for the first time at Arthur’s party. You can show people whateveryou want but those moments, behind closed doors that no one sees are what makes up the story. Without them, we’re just the shell we wear when we leave the house. I didn’t know it went deeper, I didn’t know Spencer was capable of loving Connie the way she does but then again, how was I supposed to know?
She wore what they had around her neck in a little locket until one day it was ripped away from her and opened, for the whole world to see.
“I didn’t know she was here tonight,” Spencer mutters into my chest.
“Neither did I.”
