In the end, I had been in bed before midnight. The late-night party I had envisaged being a part of fizzled out into an early night with a mug of Horlicks. When Mum and Dad had asked me why I had come home so early, I had told them the food was rather rich and I was feeling rather full and very tired. But the look on Mum’s face at the doorway now made me think she hadn’t bought my story last night. It was a look of sympathy and also knowing. And when she pushed the door open further to reveal Caitlin standing a few inches behind her, I knew that she had sussed out that there was more to me cutting my night short than I had initially let on. Mum didn’t say anything more, but just left me with that look.
Caitlin stood there in the doorway. She looked flushed, as though she had been out for a walk already, and I was sure I saw her give a slight sniff as she loitered in the doorway. Not only had I not been for a New Year’s walk this morning, but I was still sat in my pyjamas.
‘Can I, er, come in then?’ Caitlin said.
I gave a little shrug of my shoulders.
‘Oh, bor-ing – you’re not going to be like that about it, are you? It was a little joke, to try and add a bit of edginess to the evening.’ Caitlin came in and sat down in the chair next to the sofa. ‘I came here to check you were okay. Chuck said he had never seen a girl shake so much as you last night.’
I screwed my face up. ‘You blew out the candles and left me stranded on the top floor with no idea of how to get down again.’
Caitlin shook her head. ‘You sound slightly hysterical, Sasha.’
‘Are you here to apologise or not?’
Caitlin stood up. ‘I don’t do apologies.’
I felt a jitter of terror as my mind automatically replayed the events of last night. There had been something really odd about Caitlin’s behaviour. Maybe I could put it down to the champagne she had drunk, but the way she had spoken last night was as if she had been speaking to someone near to us. But all I really wanted her to do was to say sorry and for us to be friends again.
I gave a small sniff, and Caitlin took that as her cue to come over and sit next to me on the sofa.
‘You can’t sit in here all day watching this tripe. Why don’t you come over to mine in a while and have a cup of hot chocolate with me in the kitchen? All the adults have gone for a huge walk before lunch.’ She pulled her bottom lip down. ‘I’m lonely.’
I stayed staring at the television, barely blinking. Finally, Caitlin spoke again.
‘You know you’re like a sister to me, don’t you?’
I shifted my body slightly so I could look at Caitlin.
She looked right at me. ‘I’ve always wished I had a sister. And when you moved here, it was like my dream had come true.’
I couldn’t help but smile, and when she shifted herself so she was even closer to me, I felt a little wave of joy flush through me. I would put the whole thing behind me eventually, I was sure I would. But Caitlin knew what she was doing when she blew out the candle. She had been bored with adult company and angry at me because I let her down with the champagne. And yet, she was here, telling me I was like a sister to her. And I felt like a sister to her.
Caitlin kicked off her wellies, and I pulled the blanket back. She climbed in next to me on the sofa. We looked at one another and we both smiled, the memory of last night already easing.
Mum poked her head around the door.
‘Would you girls like a hot chocolate? I’m just making one.’
‘Oh, yes please, Mrs Cunningham.’ Caitlin made her voice sweet and light. Mum smiled and went back into the kitchen, where I heard the sound of a saucepan hitting the Aga.
I felt overjoyed that Caitlin was here, that we were still friends. We looked at one another and smiled again.
I wanted so desperately to just put it all behind me. But there was a small part of me that wondered if I would ever truly forget what she did to me that night.
15 London, July 2009
Two months until the wedding
I meet Caitlin at the wedding dress shop at 4 p.m. as we have arranged. Of course, she’s late – fashionably or not, I will never know. She has become so secretive and quiet these last few months, and after everything that Ava has told me about the extra mystery guest, I am feeling more and more detached from her.
I am beeped into the shop and sit down on the grand white sofa. I kick off my pumps and receive the complimentary glass of champagne from Wendy, the shop owner and dress consultant, whose hair is perfectly coiffed into a high-set style. She is wearing a beige suit jacket and skirt; the jacket cinched in at the waist giving her an air of 1950s elegance.
I like the idea of holding a glass of champagne under the circumstances, but I know I will only have a few sips. Champagne never brings me feelings of joy or celebration because of how I was first introduced to it.
I take three or four sips and feel the bubbles working their way into my system. The shop door squeaks open and Caitlin appears in the doorway. She looks into the room at first as though she has looked straight through me and hasn’t seen me at all. Then she seems to
