Salamander’s is like nothing I have ever experienced before. I watch Sadie and Amanda closely, making sure that I don’t slip up and do anything to embarrass myself, always conscious that fitting in is a full-time job by itself. Feeling myself getting tipsy, I excuse myself from the dance floor and head to the bar, asking the barman for a soda water. As I slide onto a barstool, trying not to gawp at the lizard-inspired décor now that I have a moment to myself, I notice Rupert and Amanda at the far end of the bar, heads angled close together as they talk. I feel remarkably less annoyed at Rupert now – I haven’t forgiven him for not mentioning that Caro worked at The Children’s Trust, not by a long shot – but the booze has settled in my veins, making me feel less spiky. He probably didn’t say anything because, like Sadie said, he knew it would make me feel awkward. I feel a sudden rush of love for him, and slide from the bar stool. I totter along towards them, careful not to spill my drink, until I am standing close enough to catch the odd word of their conversation.
‘… Angus Beaton,’ Amanda is saying. Her mouth is downturned, and she raises her glass in a jabbing motion towards Rupert. Rupert is replying, and I step forward, my hand poised to tap him on the shoulder.
‘… and wrong, somehow. Em isn’t Caro, she never will be.’ Rupert’s words reach my ears and it’s like I’ve been drenched with a bucket of cold water. I step forward, my stomach churning.
‘Everything OK, you two?’ I say brightly, looking from one to the other.
‘Absolutely dandy,’ Rupert says, in that fake posh way he puts on sometimes in front of his friends. His hand slides around my waist and then down to rest on my bum and I resist the urge to pull away.
‘Amanda, is everything OK?’ I press, as Amanda knocks back the rest of her drink and avoids my eye. ‘You two looked very intense, you weren’t arguing, were you?’
‘No. God, no, of course not,’ Rupert says, ‘just catching up. Are you OK, darling?’
‘I need another drink. Excuse me, Emily, won’t you?’ Amanda turns, swaying slightly on her heels, before heading towards the bar, her empty glass clutched tightly in one hand. I look up at Rupert, drinking in his features, my heart lurching in my chest as I hear his words again. That I’m not Caro and never will be.
‘Rupert, is that true? Is everything all right between you two? It looked as though… well, Amanda didn’t look very happy.’
‘Ahh, you know how she is…’ Rupert leans down, his lips searching for mine, but I place my hand on his chest to stop him and his mouth twists in irritation. ‘Em, please. You must know what she’s like by now. She loves a drink, doesn’t know when to stop. Sometimes her mouth runs away with her. She just pissed me off a bit and I was telling her to give it a rest.’
‘Right.’ I don’t know what to think. I didn’t hear the full conversation, I don’t know why Rupert said that about me not being Caro, but maybe he was standing up for me if Amanda had said something out of order. She doesn’t keep it a secret that she idolized Caro, but I had thought that she and I were becoming friendlier, if not quite properly friends.
‘Come on—’ Rupert drags me towards the dance floor, wrapping his arms around me and I breathe in the familiar scent of him, let him press his body against mine, and try to forget Amanda, standing watching us from the bar.
Rupert passes me a large mug of coffee as we sit at the breakfast table the next morning, my head fuzzy and my temples thumping from too much alcohol and a distinct lack of sleep. I was exhausted by the time we fell in the door at 3 a.m., but as I lay in our huge bed, Rupert’s arm around my waist as his breath whistled softly in my ear, I couldn’t sleep, my mind going over and over the words I had heard exchanged between Rupert and Amanda. Now, I am hot and prickly, my brain feeling foggy, and I jump when my mobile beeps. It’s a text message from an unknown number. I glance at Rupert, where he stands at the stove attempting to make pancakes, before my gaze drifts back to the screen and with a thumping heart I swipe to open it.
Ask your husband why Angus Beaton didn’t take you on.
A sharp intake of breath, and my throat thickens as I look up to see Rupert frowning over me.
‘Em? What’s the matter?’ His brow is creased with concern, and his hair sticks up on one side. His cheeks are dark with a day’s worth of stubble, and as I look at his familiar face I think for a moment, Do I know you? Do I even really know you? I don’t speak, instead I just hand him my phone.
‘Oh shit, Em,’ he sighs, laying the phone on the table and pulling out the chair next to me. ‘Who sent you this?’
‘I don’t know, it’s from an unknown number,’ I say, ‘but aren’t you going to say something? Explain it?’
He scrubs his hand though his hair, and I feel a surge of anger. ‘Explain, Rupert. What the hell is going on?’
‘Look—’ He reaches for my hand and I pull away, hurt smarting my insides. ‘It wasn’t meant to be anything… I didn’t want to upset you.’
‘Rupert, for fuck sakes just explain yourself.’ My tone is cold, and I wrap my arms across my body, not wanting him to touch me.
‘Yes, OK,’ he says eventually, ‘yes, I did have something to do with Angus not taking you on but let me explain.
