Getting Even

“What’s up, honey?”

  “It’s Dan!”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. What’s happened?”

  “He’s seeing someone else!”

  “My God—no! Who?”

  “Cassie!” Then out it poured in one long rush: the watch, the revised schedule, the trip to Leicester. “And he seems to think I’m an idiot for being upset about any of it!” she finished.

  “He’s a piece of shit,” said Ivy.

  Orianna winced. It was one thing if she thought this; another to have it articulated by another person, even her best friend. It underlined the dreadfulness of Dan’s behavior.

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  Orianna considered for a moment.

  “I can bring some wine. Pick up a pizza on the way or something. I could even…” she paused, obviously not wanting to impose, “stay over if you like.”

  The image of Ivy and herself curled up on the sofa with a pizza was therapeutic. She sniffed again. “Actually, that would be good.”

  “I’ll drive,” said Ivy. “Give me a sec to get my stuff together.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “See you in a bit,” said Ivy, and hung up.

  Orianna got to her feet and went to the bathroom to check her face in the mirror.

  I look dreadful, she thought. Blotchy red cheeks, mascara smudged everywhere. She blew her nose. Ivy could cope with her au naturel, but she should clean her face. As she removed her eye makeup she reflected on Ivy.

  How much easier it is to be friends with a woman, she sighed. It’s far safer emotionally. I’ve never been hurt by a girlfriend like I have by men, or betrayed, or even particularly confused or upset. I understand women; we speak the same language. And of all the women in my life there’s no one I value as much as Ivy; right now I appreciate her more than ever. With Ivy I know where I stand, how our relationship operates. Goodness—Ivy coped with my seeing Dan in secret and then forgave me the promotion. She’s even been gracious about working with Cassie. What man would deal so well with all that?

  Orianna checked her watch again. Ivy didn’t live that far away, and knowing the speed she liked to drive her BMW, she should be here in a few minutes.

  * * *

  “I’m going out,” said Ivy, slinging her mobile into her bag.

  Ed stopped pouring himself a Scotch midflow. Slowly he put down the bottle and glass. “But I said I wanted to talk.”

  “And I said I didn’t.”

  “You never want to talk.”

  “Not about certain things I don’t, no.”

  “But it’s our marriage, Ivy. We’ve got to sort this out sometime.”

  She glanced at him. In a dreadful lumberjack shirt and with the hideous beard he’d grown since she last saw him, he looked like an off-duty Canadian Mountie. How could she ever have found him attractive? She got to her feet. “It’ll keep.”

  “God, Ivy, this is the first time I’ve seen you in weeks.”

  “I know. Sad, isn’t it?” She headed to the bathroom.

  Ed followed her. There wasn’t space for both of them so he stood at the door. “What on earth’s that much more important than our relationship?”

  “Quite a lot, actually.” She reached up to pull her sponge bag down from on top of the cabinet.

  He grabbed her wrist. “Where are you going?”

  “To see a friend.” Ivy snatched her wrist away.

  “What kind of friend?”

  “Mind your business.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  “If it was, do you think I’d tell you?” Ivy started to load her toiletries.

  “Are you coming back?”

  “Tonight? No.”

  “Fucking hell, Ivy!” He kicked the door. It rocked on its hinges.

  “Careful,” said Ivy, sweeping past him. “You might hurt yourself.”

  Five minutes later she was in her Z4. Before she turned on the ignition, she phoned Orianna’s favorite pizza parlor in Islington and placed an order. Then she set off, stopping in Shoreditch en route to pick up a bottle of red—no point in spending too much as Orianna would never notice in the state she was in, though she couldn’t stand utter rubbish herself so begrudgingly parted with nearly £10—and presently she was drumming her nails on the countertop at the pizza place, waiting for their pies. By nine o’clock she was pulling up outside Orianna’s apartment.

  It’s months since I’ve been here, she thought, mounting the steps to the front door. How weird it feels, being back.

  But it didn’t seem to have changed much. A nearby streetlamp revealed the same geraniums in the window box as ever, valiantly attempting a last burst of scarlet before the autumn frosts set in. There were the familiar curtains, covered in a design based on Leonardo’s botanical sketches, drawn as it was dark. And there, by the doorbell, the label that Orianna had proudly designed on her Mac when she’d moved in all those years ago. It said O. BIANCHI, GARDEN APARTMENT in swirly lettering.

  We used to hang out here such a lot, before Dan, recalled Ivy. Since Orianna started seeing him she hadn’t been invited that often, and when she had she’d suspected that Dan would be there too. The idea of hanging out with such a cozy couple was the last thing Ivy wanted to do, so even when she had been asked, she’d made her excuses.

  Well, she thought, putting down her bag and tucking the pizzas under her chin so she could press the buzzer, with any luck that could change. Soon I might not be the one feeling excluded. Because the way things are panning out, it doesn’t look as if Dan will be visiting this apartment quite so often in the future.

  28. Tonight, I do entreat that we may sup together

  “Shall we stop to eat?” said Dan. They’d just passed a sign for Leicester Forest East Services. “I’m starving and we’re making good time.”

  “That would be great,” said Cassie. “I could do with going to the restroom.”

  As they pulled into the parking lot, Dan wondered if he should try phoning Orianna again. He’d tried before they’d hit the M1, but her phone had been engaged.

  Almost before he’d come to a stop, Cassie had undone her seat belt and opened the door. “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m desperate!” Dan had to run to catch up with her, and it wasn’t until he was inside the building that he realized he’d left his mobile in the glove compartment of his Fiesta.

  Blast, he thought. I’ll lose Cassie if I go back for it.

  Eventually Cassie emerged from the loo.

  She looks tired, he observed, yet she’s replenished her lipstick. Does she never let her image slide?

  “Right then,” she took his arm. “Food, here we come.”

  So the moment to call Orianna passed.

  In the cafe, Cassie selected a small salad and mineral water. “I don’t fancy eating much.”

  As he helped himself to fish and chips, Dan thought fondly of Orianna. With such a spread before her, she’d never be able to resist something fattening either. Her passion for food is one of the things I love about her, he thought. I’d rather that any day than someone like Cassie who seems to count every calorie.

  But over the meal he decided he’d better make an effort. He was aware he was normally far chummier with Cassie than he’d been thus far. Perhaps it would be friendly to ask about her love life. He ventured, “Now that we’re out of the agency, tell me … Are you seeing anyone at the moment?”

  To his surprise Cassie almost choked on her lettuce. “Er … Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged. “Just wondered.” It’s not that strange a question, he thought. After all, half the men at Green seem to have the hots for her.

  Eventually, she admitted, “I have been seeing—um—someone, yeah.”

  “Oh.” Dan nodded. “Is it serious?”

  “Kind of,” said Cassie.

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Maybe.” Cassie toyed with a piece of tomato. Dan wished she’d hurry up and eat—it was well past suppertime, for goodness’ sake, and she
barely seemed able to get through a bowl of leaves without any dressing. The contrast made him feel greedy. At last she blurted, “Actually, yeah.”

  Well, well, thought Dan. This is a more interesting topic than it first appeared. He didn’t share Orianna’s insatiable appetite for gossip, but he did enjoy the odd bit of intrigue if it involved his colleagues. And perhaps he’d find out something he could impart to Orianna—she’d relish that. He leaned forward. “Who is it?”

  “I’m not sure I should tell you. I’ve been advised to keep my private life to myself.”

  “You can tell me,” he urged.

  “Why are you so curious all of a sudden?” Cassie looked at him suspiciously.

  “I was just interested in you, that’s all.”

  Cassie flushed. “I wouldn’t dream of going out with you, if that’s why you’re asking. Not when you’ve been seeing my boss.”

  Now Dan nearly choked on his dinner. “What on earth should give you that idea?”

  “Oh, nothing,” said Cassie. “I guess I made a mistake.” But she didn’t appear convinced. She hesitated, as if considering whether to explain herself more fully, then decided to play it safe. “Nonetheless, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to be discussing this. I understand you and Orianna kept things quiet for a while, and if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to do the same.”

  “OK. Whatever.” Strange girl, he thought. Assuming I fancy her! If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a presumptuous woman. In any case, she’s not my type.

  * * *

  “Thanks for coming over.”

  “No worries.” Ivy put down the pizzas on the coffee table and wandered into the kitchen. “Corkscrew?”

  “I’ve already got one open,” said Orianna.

  It’s not like Orianna to drink alone, thought Ivy, but sure enough, there was less than half a bottle of Chianti on the side table. She located the corkscrew and returned to the living room with both bottles and a glass for herself. “I expect we’ll get onto this one too,” she said. She unzipped her boots and took them off so she could sit cross-legged, and lifted the two pizzas onto her lap. She pulled the lid off the top one to check the contents and handed the box to Orianna. “I got you this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Quattro formaggio.”

  “Ooh yum!” Orianna examined the gooey, creamy topping. “What’s yours?”

  “Arugula and parmesan.” Ivy picked up her glass. “Cheers, anyway. Sorry you’ve had such a shit day.” Clink. “Men, who needs ’em, eh?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Wankers.” They were silent a while, focused on eating.

  Perhaps a small admission will prompt Orianna to reveal more about Dan, thought Ivy. She said, “In fact, I was glad to get away.”

  “Oh?”

  “I left Ed. Back at the apartment.”

  “Right.” Orianna swallowed. “How are things with him?”

  “Not that great.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Orianna looked genuinely sad for her.

  Her pity made Ivy feel uncomfortable. She laughed. “No change there. But God, O, you should see him—he’s grown a beard!”

  “A beard!”

  “Not even a goatee. It’s a proper beard!”

  “A bear beard?”

  Ivy grimaced. “Even his neck’s hairy. One thing’s for certain. He’s not kissing me like that—let alone anything else.” She winked suggestively.

  “No way.” Orianna nodded. She looked downcast for a moment. Ivy guessed she was thinking about Dan.

  “Enough about Ed—it’s all the same old, same old. What’s going on with you two?”

  “We three, more like.” Orianna sighed. “As I said, seems Dan’s shagging Cassie.”

  “Really?” said Ivy. She made her surprise sound fake.

  Orianna picked this up at once. “Did you know about it?”

  “Er…” Ivy hesitated. She bit her lip as if she was struggling to protect her friend from the truth.

  Orianna’s eyes welled up. “You might as well tell me.”

  “I didn’t know anything for definite.”

  “No?” Orianna sounded relieved.

  “Or I’d have told you.”

  Orianna nodded.

  “Though I did notice he was hanging around her a lot. I mentioned that, if you recall.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know you did. It’s only I never really saw it myself.”

  “I guess he tended to do it when you weren’t there. He probably knew you’d cotton to it otherwise. But sharing work space with her, obviously I couldn’t miss it.”

  “No.” Tears began to fall properly now.

  Ivy felt a pang of guilt. “Here.” She handed Orianna a tissue.

  “Thanks.” Orianna wiped her eyes and laughed at herself. “Good thing I took off my mascara.”

  “Just make sure you don’t go out like that,” teased Ivy.

  Orianna pulled off another slice of pizza. The cheese stretched into thin strings which she scooped into a huge, consoling mouthful. “D’you think it’s been going on a long time then?”

  “Truthfully, I don’t know. I’ll tell you something though.”

  “What?”

  “She’s always in the loo, Cassie, isn’t she, primping?”

  “Too bloody right!” Orianna stopped crying.

  “So if that’s any measure, I guess it’s been a while.”

  Orianna appeared mortified.

  “Yet she looks god-awful for it,” scoffed Ivy. Privately, she had a faint suspicion Cassie was doing more than preening and primping, though she kept the thought to herself.

  “D’you reckon?”

  Ivy gave a shudder. “Ooh yes! I’ve never known anyone to spend so much time on their appearance.” Her own trips to the gym didn’t count, of course.

  “Nor me.”

  Ivy noted Orianna was dubious. “You don’t think Cassie’s pretty, do you?”

  “Er, well … I’m not sure. Lots of men seem to think so.”

  “Men with no taste,” said Ivy, before she could stop herself. Oops—Orianna appeared hurt. Better criticize Cassie, not Dan. “I don’t think she’s attractive at all.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Her skin’s orange, Orianna!”

  “Is it?” Was it possible Orianna hadn’t noticed?

  “Oh yes. Definitely tanning bed. I mean, whoever has a tan all year round? In this country? It’s so dated, darling.” She patted Orianna’s knee.

  “I suppose.”

  “And her hair!” Never mind Orianna’s upset, Ivy was enjoying herself.

  “It is a bit split,” Orianna conceded.

  “‘A bit split!’” Ivy flicked her long hair away from her face. She had bonding like this down to a fine art, confident both she and Orianna had flawless complexions and thick, glossy tresses. “It’s yellow.” She was on a roll. It was such a relief to vent her own misgivings.

  “I mean if you’re going to dye your hair”—she checked her own streaks in the mirror behind the sofa—“at least make sure it’s done properly.” She noticed Orianna surreptitiously check her appearance too. Ivy knew what she was doing—Orianna’s brunette waves were natural. “I have to say though…”

  “What?”

  “It’s not the only thing that’s false about her, I reckon.”

  “Oh?”

  Ivy lifted her chin, displaying her fine profile to full effect. “Well … put it this way … I might be wrong…”

  “But?”

  She could tell Orianna was on tenterhooks. “I don’t want to stereotype, of course, but still, it’s quite rare to see a Jewish girl with a nose like that.”

  “Pert, you mean?”

  Ivy nodded. “Snub.”

  “Gosh.” Orianna sat back, stopped chewing. “You think she’s had it done?”

  “Obviously I can’t prove it.”

  “Mm.”

  “Still, it’s like a ski jump.”

  “True
.” At last the implications took full effect. “God, Ivy, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “What?”

  “That Cassie’s Jewish.”

  “Hadn’t you?”

  “I mean obviously I realized she was, but I didn’t think that was why … well, you know. Dan is too.”

  “Really?”

  “His parents would love that. Well, her.” She scooped another consoling mouthful.

  “Surely he wouldn’t be so swayed by what they thought, would he? He’s not that much of a mummy’s boy?”

  “Actually, he’s very close to his family.” Trust Orianna to see this as an asset. “Or so he says. He’s never introduced me to them.”

  “I see.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Because you’re not Jewish?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Orianna’s voice was forlorn. She glanced up at her friend, eyes full of tears. “Do you think he really likes her, Ivy?”

  “Lord knows. Can’t see it lasting, myself.” Ivy allowed herself a sip of wine. “It’ll probably blow over. My guess is he’ll tire of her eventually, Jewish or not. But you can’t hang around waiting forever. So”—the million-dollar question—“what are you going to do about it? I presume the last thing you want is to be made to look a fool.”

  “Is that what people think?”

  Hell, Ivy thought, if I’m to be single again—or, more specifically, devoid of a husband, if not a lover—at least I’ll have Orianna to hang out with. “No one’s said exactly that as far as I know.”

  “Not yet. It’s probably only a matter of time. I know how they behave at work—it’s just what happened with Clive!” She began to cry again. “I’d better talk to him, I suppose.”

  Ivy sighed. “I guess you had.”

  “Maybe I should finish it.” An extra loud wail. “But I really care about him, Ivy!”

  If Ivy felt a twinge of remorse, but the moment soon passed. I can’t change my tune now, she thought. “I know you do, honey. I thought he seemed like a nice guy, too.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah. I suppose he had us all fooled.”

  “But he told me he loved me!”

  “Of course he did.”

  Orianna looked mystified.

  “That’s what men do.”

  “Even when they don’t?”

  “Yes. That way they can get you to do more for them. Cooking, cleaning, mothering”—not that Ivy did any of these, but still—“sexual favors … No better guarantee of a good blow job than the old ‘I love you’ trick.”