I know Caitlin has her reasons for not wanting to return, but I wish I could be sure of them. I always imagined her residing there as an adult, only working a little in London to tide her over and cover the estate bills.
I sometimes imagine myself back there too, walking amongst the grounds, which would no doubt be alive with memories of our childhood. But after my family and I left when I was sixteen, Caitlin never did invite me back there again, and whenever I asked after the huge estate, Caitlin would always say she had ‘popped’ in to visit Granny. I didn’t dare to linger over the matter that Saxby was a two-hundred-mile round journey from where Caitlin lived in London.
But something is keeping Caitlin away now, even though it all belongs to her. I wonder if that will change when she marries Chuck. I wonder if he will have some influence on what she does with it.
I take the lift to the highest floor and arrive at the bright blue-and-white reception area. The receptionist’s long oval desk sits in the middle like an island, clusters of plush white chairs have been placed with intention around the perimeter. I know Caitlin and Mabel are busy all the time, and I know they are a commercial firm, but I really don’t know or wish to know any more. Fortunately, Caitlin has never offered up any more information about her day-to-day responsibilities, but this seems to be Caitlin’s life, and even more so since Josephine died and she became engaged to Chuck. I had trouble pinning her down before, but now she spends so much of her life in her office or at meetings with clients that we rarely spend any time together. Which is why, now I am here, I am glad, not only to get the wedding favours finalised, but because surely it will be nice to just spend a bit of time together. After all, that’s what best friends do.
The receptionist, who I know is called Elspeth from the countless times I’ve stopped by with muffins and coffee for Caitlin, beams at me from behind the desk, showing me her pearly white teeth. She speaks with an endearing lisp, which makes her seem even younger than the millennial that she is.
‘She’s just finishing up with a client, and I’ll buzz her as soon as she’s done. Do you want to take a seat?’ Elspeth gives me one of her winning smiles.
I thank her and distract myself by flicking through some magazines. Most are too high end for me – Nobleman and Affinity – but I spot a Grazia, grab it, and sink into a chair and immerse myself in an article about summer sandals.
I lift my head for a moment when I sense someone approaching. I presume it will be Caitlin, but I’m shocked to see it’s Ava. I can see she has come from the direction of Caitlin’s office and is about to pass me on her way to the lifts. Immediately my senses are on high alert. Ava is not the sort of mother who would pop in to see her daughter at work – besides, she lives in Surrey. I can only presume she had some wedding issue to discuss with her. Even though she must be at least sixty years old, Ava doesn’t have one grey streak in her still very dark hair. She looks as well presented as she always did; today she is wearing a light grey suit jacket and trousers, but that hard, steely look hasn’t changed in years.
I sink down into my chair and raise the magazine over my face. I let my eyes scan across the top of the magazine to steal a gaze at her. Even though she has always made me feel uncomfortable, I am still intrigued by her as she glides past me, her chin raised an inch more than anyone else, and I notice a wry smile has escaped and is etching across her lips. I can’t be certain she has seen me, but it’s an expression I recognise from my childhood; when she thought she had bamboozled me. I wait until she has left the reception and hear the lift doors open and close again before I stand and straighten myself out. Elspeth is holding the phone receiver in one hand and gives me a wave to let me know that I can go through.
I feel the familiar fizz in my tummy as I approach Caitlin’s office, the power relationship between us that began as children has seamlessly followed us into adulthood. The first thing I notice when I enter through the open door is that the blind is drawn on the large glass window that looks out towards the corridor, something I know she does when she is with a difficult or important client and doesn’t want anyone to see the drama unfolding inside. I instantly begin to imagine what dramas might have taken place with Ava moments before I arrived.
The second thing I notice is that Caitlin isn’t in the room. She must have stepped out for a moment.
Caitlin’s office is bigger than my front room and kitchen combined and with only a desk, a sofa and chair in here, I always feel as though I want to perform a cartwheel across the room to emphasise the space. The only time I offered to do this, Caitlin looked at me with complete horror. ‘Don’t worry, Cait, I would never embarrass you in front of your posh work colleagues,’ I’d said, and I had watched as her face morphed into an expression I couldn’t fathom, but wondered if it was shame. Shame that I was her friend, maybe? It was times like these when all our obvious differences would sit heavily at the forefront of our friendship, selfishly pushing away everything that had bonded us over the years.
I find myself walking across the room, naturally drawn
