?You?re well shot of him,? I say quietly.
Candy nods. ?And you?re welcome to him.?
Me? She still thinks that I?m going to Spain with him?
?Candy, he?s not going to Malaga with me. This is not about me and Mike. There?s someone else.?
Candy looks up sharply.
?Someone else? That?s impossible. Who??
?I don?t know. Some bitch that David works with. She?s stitched up David and now she?s running away with Mike.?
Candy looks me up and down as if she?s trying to work out whether to believe me or not. Evidently she does, because after a few seconds she looks down and smiles.
?I shouldn?t think he?ll get very far.?
?What do you mean??
?I mean,? she says, looking me straight in the eye, ?that I rang the airline this afternoon and canceled the ticket. The eight-thirty flight to Malaga will be leaving without him. And without this . . .? Candy reaches into her bag and brings out Mike?s passport. ?Without this, I don?t think he?s really going anywhere. Do you??
Her smile breaks into a real grin. Tears are still rolling down her cheeks, but she has a glint in her eye. ?I?ve been pretty stupid, haven?t I??
?You and me both,? I agree.
?I can?t believe I fell for him,? Candy sniffs. ?After all those evenings telling you he wasn?t worth it.?
?I thought you had just told me that so you could have him to yourself,? I say, half joking and half accusingly.
?No! Oh my God, Georgie, I would never do that! I mean, I did fancy the pants off him, but I really didn?t mean to be so two-faced. I only let him move in with me because he said if he could just move in with me for a little bit he?d get himself together . . . he said that you two needed a clean break, you know, so that you could get over him properly. . . .
We both start laughing. It sounds so ridiculous now.
?So he didn?t leave me for you??
?I resisted him for at least two weeks,? Candy smirks. ?And then, when I finally gave in, I was so guilt-ridden I couldn?t call you or see you or anything. I only called you the other week because Mike said he?d seen you and I wanted to make sure there wasn?t anything else to it. David adores you and I couldn?t bear the idea of you letting Mike screw things up, except that I couldn?t say anything because David had said not to say anything about me and Mike. And then when I told you I was pregnant, and you kept talking about Mike, I just lost it.?
?Candy, I?m so sorry. God, we?re both total suckers aren?t we. And Mike isn?t even a good kisser.?
?Mike? God, he?s awful! And you know he?s started to dye his hair??
We both convulse in giggles, then Candy puts her coffee down.
?Georgie, I haven?t had a drink, a proper drink, in an awfully long time. You don?t fancy one, do you??
?I would love that. Let?s drink a toast to our abysmal taste in men and to us being proper friends again,? I suggest.
Candy smiles and stands up.
?Not abysmal,? she says. ?David?s one of the few good ones.?
I feel a lump in my throat appear as I follow her out into the street.
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It?s 10:30P.M . My answerphone is flashing. Ready for the worst, I press Play on the machine and sit on the edge of the sofa.
?Georgie, are you there? It?s Mike. Pick up the bloody phone. I need to talk to you.
?Georgie, what the fuck is going on? Oh, for fuck?s sake.
?Fucking call me.
?Georgie? Do you think this is funny? Don?t be an idiot?pick up the phone. I know you?re there; they said you weren?t in work today . . .?
I turn up the volume of the television and go to the kitchen to get a bottle of wine. I?m already pretty drunk, but getting drunker seems like a pretty good idea right now. Candy and I made our way through about five gin and tonics earlier and nearly got kicked out of the pub for being so rowdy?very unlike Candy. But now I?m back and I?ve got to face the music.
I don?t know how much Mike knows?it depends how much Vanessa has pieced together really. To be honest, I was hoping that he?d have been arrested or something by now, but it seems he?s still very much around. At least he won?t be able to go to Spain and David will be okay. I just never want to see him again.
I open a bottle of red, and notice that it?s Bulgarian. I can?t help checking the vintage to see if it?s a 1999. I realize that I have never asked David whether he made that whole thing up about the Bulgarian wine to save me, or whether it?s really true. I wonder if I?ll get the chance to ask him.
