‘Sam popped round the other day,’ I said, nonchalantly. James looked up, furrowing his brow. ‘Smith – the gardener,’ I added, realising he’d no idea who I was talking about. He nodded.
‘I hope he’s going to send someone to shape the holly bush by the electric gate. It scratched my wing mirror the other day.’
Great! So he wasn’t in a good mood. ‘I’ll make sure he does.’ I sipped my wine for courage. ‘He said his wife is quite busy with her work at the moment. She’s a barrister.’ I studied him for his reaction, but his expression remained blank.
‘I know,’ he said after he’d swallowed a forkful of risotto. ‘Some of our lawyers are working on a case with her at the moment.’ He said it so breezily that I didn’t suspect her visits were anything more than work-related – at least to James’s knowledge anyway.
I told James I’d give him some peace to read his paper over dinner and went to sit in the orangery, where I brought my laptop to life. Impersonating Megan online should have felt wrong because ultimately, it was wrong – I knew that – but it was the only thing I could think of that would cheer me up and I rationalised that my intentions were good.
So, Andrew, Notting Hill? I loved that film too – who didn’t? James. James had sat stony-faced and silently twitching through the whole thing when I convinced him to watch it a few years ago. I thought he’d lighten up a little but he didn’t.
Food? God, anything and everything! I love Italian, Greek, tapas, oriental . . . It would be quicker to list the foods I don’t like. Pies. I really can’t stand pastry.
Unable to think of anything else to ask, I typed out a question, strangely desperate to keep the communication flowing.
What other interests do you have? Travel?
As I pressed send, my phone buzzed. It was our WhatsApp group.
Can’t do any super-sleuthing this week. Carl is whisking me off to Paris – feel bad for saying he wasn’t interested now. Turns out he’d been busy planning this big surprise! Sorry xx
There was a message above I hadn’t seen where Kate updated the others about our findings. I quickly replied telling her to have a good time and added:
See, Carl isn’t so bad after all. xx
I slumped back in my chair. The fact Kate could dip in and out of our little club as her life suited served as a poignant reminder that our little group was actually all I had at that moment in time. I was banned from my social circle of spoilt brats and James was never around. Without Megan, Kate, and Sam I’d have nobody. The thought made my insides feel dense, or hollow, I couldn’t decide which. It was like a knotted ball of wool was growing inside me – I didn’t recognise the feeling but I knew what it was. Megan and Sam were technically employees – maybe they were only spending time with me because I paid them. Oh God. Had I done this? Created this entire stupid circle because I was . . .?
I couldn’t even allow myself to think the word, never mind say it. But it all added up. My need to meddle, fix, chat to strangers, and organise people all stemmed from one root cause. Sharp searing tears formed in my eyes and I allowed them to flow freely down my face before I shook my head, pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. I couldn’t allow myself to cash in on self-sympathy when other people were suffering much worse. Poor little rich girl with the perfect life feeling sorry for herself because her husband’s busy. That’s more like it.
Not profound, encapsulating loneliness.
Chapter Seven
With Kate away and Megan working odd hours at the beck and call of her needy clients (yes I know I was one of them), it was down to me and Sam to continue our investigative work. On Saturday mornings, Samantha always went to the gym, so Sam and I had planned to double-check that’s where she really was. We’d had to wait for her to leave home before I could pick Sam up, so by the time we were in the car ready to go, she’d long gone. The plan was simple: Sam would wait outside while I popped in to ask for some information on joining. I’d ask for a tour and hopefully, spot Samantha working out like she was supposed to be.
‘Are you sure you want me to do this?’ I asked him as we pulled into the car park.
‘I’m going out of my mind with suspicion. I need to know.’
‘Okay. You wait here and I won’t be long.’ I slid out of the car and made my way into the reception area of the large sweat-pit.
‘Hello, can I help?’ the cheerful blonde behind reception asked, seemingly catching my look of bewilderment.
‘Morning, Mandy,’ a deep voice interrupted. He was fairly well spoken, with a hint of Mancunian. Something about it was intriguing and made me look. There was familiarity in the stubble dusting his chin, the hair falling into his eyes, and the strong arms.
I gasped when I realised who it was, causing him to turn and look my way. ‘Ouch,’ I added, shaking my hand for effect, ‘stupid bag clasp,’ I lied. He simply nodded and entered the gym. For a moment I stood, dumbfounded at seeing the Me & You guy, Andrew. Chatting through messages was one thing but seeing him in real life was another. I almost giggled; it was bizarre, almost like seeing a celebrity, and I felt compelled to sneak a glance after him.
Eventually, I found my voice. ‘I’d love some information on joining, please, and would it be possible to have a quick look at the facilities?’ I asked, approaching the counter. I was acutely aware of
