Someone Like You (The Ever After Agency #4)

Chapter 19

19

POPPY

‘Thank you so much for having us over,’ I say as Shaz lets us into their flat. She captures me in a hug and I whisper, ‘I need to de-Helen after that.’

She laughs, understanding immediately. Lauren welcomes us in, taking our coats and offering us a glass of wine from the open bottle on the coffee table.

‘Yes, please,’ says Tristan.

Relieved of his coat and suit jacket, he loosens his tie while I toe off my shoes and wriggle out of my pantyhose, doing my best not to show my undies – though, it is just Tris and my closest friends.

‘Make yourself at home,’ says Shaz with a laugh.

‘Sorry, don’t mind me.’ I ball up the pantyhose and shove them in my handbag.

Tristan and I have spent the afternoon at his mum’s, dressed to impress, sipping Champagne, hobnobbing with crusty old men and their pinched-face wives, and eating canapés right out of a seventies cookbook: vol-au-vents, pigs in blankets, devilled eggs, and cheese-and-gherkin skewers .

Helen may have money, but it’s old money, which may be why her party planning hasn’t evolved since before Tristan was born.

The one saving grace was that she only serves extremely expensive Champagne – her way of flaunting the fortune she inherited from Tristan’s late father – and it is dee-lish! I’ve arrived at Shaz and Lauren’s slightly tipsy and ravenous. There are only so many chunks of gherkin a person can eat.

I eye the generous platter of nibblies on the coffee table – olives, oozing camembert, crumbly cheddar, hummus, fancy seeded crackers, and prosciutto and salami – and fall in love with our friends even more.

I dash over to the platter and shove a stuffed green olive in my mouth, then get comfy on the sofa next to Tristan.

‘So, how was it?’ Lauren asks, handing us glasses of a Bordeaux-style blend from Washington.

Tris and I exchange an amused look.

‘ Over ,’ he answers drily, his eyebrows raised sardonically. ‘At least for another year.’

‘That good, huh?’ asks Shaz with a grin.

‘How would you describe it, darling?’ he asks.

‘It was about as festive as a trip to the gynaecologist.’

Shaz coughs out a laugh and Tristan sniggers.

‘Wow,’ says Lauren, ‘sounds painful. Well, you’re here now.’

‘On that…’ I say. I wriggle, trying to get comfortable, but no luck. ‘This dress is strangling me.’ I throw a pleading look towards Shaz.

‘Help yourself,’ she says, waving her arm in the direction of their bedroom.

I leap up and return to the lounge room a couple of minutes later, wearing a pair of Shaz’s trackies and a T-shirt.

‘Much better,’ I say, plopping down next to Tristan.

He’s regaling Shaz and Lauren with the sole amusing anecdote from the party: his father’s former business partner and recent widower cornered Helen under the mistletoe and kissed her on the mouth.

‘Oh my god! Helen would have died ,’ exclaims Shaz, one of the few people Helen has ever warmed to, having succumbed to Shaz’s charms at our wedding.

‘I had to remind myself where the smelling salts are kept,’ he quips.

‘She did look like she was about to faint,’ I say through a mouthful of cheese and crackers.

Lauren, who has never met Helen – lucky thing – chuckles. I’m pretty sure she’s convinced we’re exaggerating. If she ever does meet Helen, it won’t take her long to discover that we’re not.

‘Oh, I totally forgot,’ says Shaz, ‘Jass and Ravi told us their news. How exciting, eh? A little bubba on the scene.’

‘I know. I can’t wait ,’ I reply. ‘And confession time: I’ve been trawling baby websites for presents. Everything’s so little and cute,’ I coo.

Tristan laughs. ‘If you buy every item you’ve shown me in the past couple of weeks, Ravi and Jacinda will have to move into a larger home.’

‘But I want Baby Sharma to have everything their little heart desires,’ I say.

‘Yeah, that’s what aunties are for, Tris,’ Shaz agrees, ‘spoiling their nieces and nephews.’

‘Sooo…’ says Lauren, who’s sitting on the rug cross-legged. She looks up at Shaz, who nods at her, smiling, then turns back to us. ‘ We’re actually talking about it.’ She takes a sip of wine, eyeing me over the rim of her glass.

‘Having a baby?’

‘Yep!’ She breaks into a wide grin .

‘Really?’ I ask excitedly. ‘So, which one of you…?’ I look between them.

‘Hah – not me,’ says Shaz. ‘Can you imagine me pregnant ?’ She takes a swig of wine to punctuate her point.

‘So, you’ll carry the baby then, Lauren?’ asks Tristan, ignoring Shaz’s crass outburst.

‘That’s what we’re thinking.’

‘When?’ I ask.

‘Oh, we haven’t even found a fertility clinic yet. We’re going to do that in January.’

‘New year, new beginnings…’ says Shaz wistfully. She’ll make a great mum – they both will – and I am so happy for them.

We’re all quiet for a long moment and in the silence, that question pops into my mind again, about us having a child. I look over at Tristan and he appears contemplative. I wonder if his thoughts have gone to the same place mine have.

It would be amazing to raise a child alongside our closest friends’ children. We’d be one big extended family and the kids would grow up like cousins.

But there are so many other considerations, including the one Tristan just raised about having room for a baby. We’d probably have to move – and would that be closer to or further away from our friends?

And what about my parents? It would be hard on them having their only grandchild living across the world. Could I do that to them? But what’s the alternative? I don’t want to move back to Tassie. And even as a thought experiment, it’s unimaginable to see city-dweller Tristan making a life in rural Tasmania. Or me. I’m a proud and happy Londoner now.

‘ Poppy .’

I snap out of my trance to find the three of them staring at me .

‘Sorry – off with the fairies,’ I say lightly, not wanting to explain what I was thinking about.

‘Your phone, darling,’ says Tristan. ‘It’s ringing.’

‘Oh! Shit.’ I leap up from the sofa and rush to my handbag. I take out my phone, seeing Gaby’s name on the screen, and answer right away.

‘Hi, Gaby, what’s up?’

‘Sorry to disturb you – I know it’s Saturday evening,’ she says.

‘No worries, but can you hold on a sec?’ I turn to the others and signal that I’ll take the call in the bedroom. They know the latest – about Gaby falling for Raff – but I don’t want to disrupt their evening with a work call. I close the door behind me and sit on the edge of the bed. ‘So, how are you doing?’ I ask.

‘Um… okay.’

After Freya messaged last night to say that she’d been to Gaby’s, I sent Gaby a supportive text, but this is the first time we’ve spoken since she told me about her feelings for Raff.

‘I imagine it’s been hard, especially as we’re seeing how things go with Raff and Julia.’

‘Well, yeah,’ she says, ‘but that’s not why I’m calling. I’ve done something…’

‘Okay.’

I have no idea what’s coming, but Gaby sounds almost cheerful.

‘And before I tell you what it is, you should know that it’s done now, and I can’t take it back. But I do need your take on it if you’re okay with that?’

Oh bugger. She hasn’t confessed her feelings to Raff, has she? I mean, she has every right to but…

‘What is it, Gaby?’ I ask, masking my unease.

‘Raff’s coming to Seattle with me for Christmas. And to my cousin’s wedding on the twenty-fourth. ’

‘Oh.’ At face value, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I’d wager there’s more to it than a simple trip. ‘Does Freya know?’

‘Yeah, she knows. She was there when I made the offer.’

Gaby goes on to explain how it came about and I have to say, I would have done the same thing. No one should be alone on Christmas – especially someone who loves Christmas as much as Raff seems to.

‘And I know I’m supposed to let the whole Raff-and-Julia thing unfold without interfering, and that includes not telling him how I feel, but…’

I catch the shift in her tone when she says ‘Raff and Julia’ and I sympathise with her all over again. This is just shitty luck and even shittier timing – and neither of those things are her fault. You can’t schedule falling in love like you do a dental appointment.

She’s gone silent. ‘But?’ I ask, prompting her to finish her thought.

‘But…’ She sighs. ‘What if something happens between me and Raff while we’re there? You know, organically ?’

The way she says ‘organically’ is loaded with justifications, rationalisations, and a generous serving of hope.

‘In a roundabout way, are you asking for my permission to act on your feelings?’

‘Maybe. That’s wrong, though, isn’t it?’

‘Gaby, I can’t tell you what to do – and neither can the agency. Our decision was based on what we would do – or in this case, wouldn’t do. We’ve decided to see how the match with Julia pans out, but you aren’t bound by that decision. You’re not beholden to us.’

‘But is it the right thing to do? Let something happen with Raff – if it comes to that, I mean.’

‘Only you can know that. ’

‘Okay,’ she says, her tone betraying her disappointment in my response.

I’m very familiar with this specific brand of hope, having had many patients over the years who sought my ‘permission’ to do one thing or another. Only I am not here to dole out permission. Gaby isn’t my client. She’s only informally connected to this case, and if she wants to make a play for Raff, then I can’t stop her. Actually, I wouldn’t try to stop her, but I’m also not going to tell her to go for it outright. That would be overstepping.

‘What did Freya say?’ I ask instead.

‘She’s freaking out. She even asked her parents if Raff could go to Sweden with them.’

Yikes – that’s a big ask for Freya. From what she’s told me, her family prefer to keep to themselves. She must be freaking out, and I sympathise with her. She only wanted to do something nice for Raff and now her two closest friends are embroiled in a love triangle. There’s no way she would have seen that coming.

‘But he’s not going to Sweden?’ I ask to be sure.

‘No. He’s definitely coming home with me. But, Poppy, he’s seeing Julia tomorrow. They’ve got a date. And we’re not leaving for Seattle until the end of next week. What if he sees her every day between now and then?’

‘He might, and you need to be prepared for that. You and Freya have both mentioned how fast he moves once he’s interested in someone.’

‘Yeah.’ She’s quiet for a moment. ‘I feel sick when I think of them together,’ she says, her voice strangled.

‘That’s understandable. Look, I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say this: you love Raff – as a friend, I mean – and you want him to be happy, right?’

‘Of course.’

‘So, if you see that he’s happy with Julia, then?— ’

‘Then I should leave well enough alone,’ she says, talking over me, her voice steeped in sadness.

‘Something like that – though much harder to do when you’re staying under the same roof.’

‘Yeah… Oh god, this is a huge mistake, isn’t it?’

‘It’s not an ideal situation, no, but you’re being a good friend ensuring that Raff’s not alone for Christmas. You’ve put him and his feelings before yours. But your feelings matter too, so do what you can to safeguard your heart.’

She makes a sound, but I can’t tell if it’s a cough or a laugh or a little of both. ‘Freya basically said the same thing,’ she says.

‘Well, Freya’s smart – like I am,’ I say, making her chuckle. ‘ And she cares about you. Both of you.’

‘Yeah.’ She’s quiet for a second. ‘Hey, Poppy, if I need any advice or just to talk…’

‘You mean while you’re in America?’ I ask.

‘Yeah.’

‘You can message me – or call. I can’t promise advice – especially if it goes against the agency’s stance – but I can be a friendly ear if you’re not comfortable talking to Freya.’

She exhales noisily. ‘Thanks. I can’t ask for any more than that.’

‘You’re welcome. Hey, I should chuff off – I’m at my friends’ place.’

‘Sorry again about intruding on your evening.’

‘It’s completely fine. Look, whatever happens in Seattle, do your best to keep Raff’s happiness in mind, but also be true to yourself. If those are mutually exclusive, do what you think is right in the moment.’

She laughs freely at that, which is fair. It may be the most vague non-advice advice I’ve ever given. ‘Thanks, Poppy. I’ll do my best.’

We say our goodbyes and I return to the lounge.

‘Everything all right?’ asks Tristan .

‘Yeah, how’s Gaby?’ Shaz adds.

‘Oh, no biggie – she’s only gone and invited Raff to go to Seattle with her over Christmas – and to be her date at her cousin’s wedding.’

‘Oh, that’s…’ says Lauren with a grimace.

‘That’s a move ,’ adds Shaz. ‘What could possibly go wrong there?’

‘I know. Argh, this case!’ I drop onto the sofa next to Tristan and lean my head on his shoulder. He lifts his hand to cup my cheek, patting it gently. ‘I’ve also agreed to play agony aunt for the duration.’

‘Shouldn’t Freya be on the hook for that?’ asks Shaz. ‘They’re her friends.’

‘Oh,’ I say sitting up. ‘You’ve reminded me – I should message her.’

‘About?’ Shaz asks as I start typing.

‘Hang on…’ I hit send, then answer Shaz. ‘Freya’s feeling it too. She’s really upset.’

‘Because she thought she was doing a good thing?’ Lauren asks, getting it instantly.

‘Yep,’ I reply.

‘What is it they say about the road to hell being paved with good intentions?’ asks Shaz.

‘ That ,’ I tell her. ‘That’s the whole saying.’

Tristan sniggers, then draws me gently towards him and I nestle in the crook of his arm.

‘Meanwhile,’ I say, ‘Raff’s living in ignorant bliss and about to go on his first date with Julia Mendelssohn.’

‘Wait – that’s who he matched with?’ asks Lauren.

‘You know who she is?’ I ask.

‘Doesn’t everyone?’ she asks with a laugh. Lauren loves celebrity gossip and reads all the society pages, poring over who went where with whom. She’s a walking Who’s Who? guide.

‘Well, I do, of course. I vetted her as a potential but?—’

‘I have no idea who she is, babe,’ says Shaz.

‘Well, she’s an artist and she’s gorgeous – total bombshell.’

‘Don’t you love how my girlfriend is always talking about how gorgeous other women are?’ Shaz asks me and Tristan.

‘But I chose you . It’s only to establish how high my standards are, so you know how gorgeous you are in comparison.’

‘Nice save, babe,’ says Shaz.

Their banter does the trick and I’m able to set Gaby and Raff and the whole messy palaver aside – at least for tonight, or until the next disastrous turn in this case.

Whichever comes first.