I look away. ‘No, not yet,’ I say. ‘I haven’t had a chance. I’ll get Clara sorted, then deal with that.’
‘Boo!’ she shouts after me as I head down the stairs, dragging my suitcase behind me.
‘Fuck it, shall we go, Haz?’ I shout to the house, and Harry answers with a whoop.
‘We’ll get theresoearly,’ he replies happily. ‘I love getting to airports early, there’s so much Baileys!’ He suddenly gets super posh. ‘Oh Jem! We have to drink some champagne and eat oysters at the Fortnum and Mason bar!’
I hear Salma taking the piss out of him, imitating hisexcitement in a plummy voice. I line up my suitcase, grabbing my coat from its hanger.
Before I put it on, I feel for the pocket, where the envelope sits.
I lied to Salma before. Ihavebeen to the library, I went there last night. There was a new envelope waiting for me, as I’d expected. But I haven’t been able to make myself open it yet. I can’t quite bring myself to do it. I want to know but I also don’t. My brain feels a bit too fizzy and full. I’m not ready to know E’s name yet. I don’t want to know the identity of this man I don’t know, but already like so much.
I pull on my coat. I’ve got an eight-hour flight ahead of me for my brain to calm down.
I’ll open it on the plane.
Chapter Thirty-SevenCLARA
‘Morning, Enya!’ I greet her cheerfully from across the kitchen, but she raises a finger, a signal for me to shush. She’s writing something down, her phone talking in front of her.
Whoops, she’s obviously working. I can’t remember what she does for a job – or maybe we’ve never actually talked about it – but she looks deep into things right now. I head to the sink and find myself picking up Enya’s dishes to wash up. Yuck, Jemma’s had too much of an influence on me.
‘Sorry, babe!’ Behind me Enya stands up. ‘I was just listening to my gal pal’s voicemail! She goes on and on, and I forget everything I need to reply about, so I have to make notes. Like a voicemail agenda.’
‘I totally do that!’ I tell her enthusiastically, scrubbing at some kind of dried oaty mess. See, Enya and I have stuff in common after all! Maybe I could stay here a bit longer.
‘So!’ Enya’s voice is breezy with an undertone of awkward. ‘You’re really back! I thought you were in the UK for good.’
At the sink, I nod. ‘I sure am! I’ve really missed New York. It’s the vibe, y’know? It can’t be beaten by stinky old London. Who needs all those buildings over fifty years old and stiff upper lips? I can’t wait to, like, catch up with everyone!’ My voice is hollow. Iwantto mean all that but I just… don’t. I haven’t missed being here and I don’t want to catch up with anyone.
‘That’s awesome!’ she says with enthusiasm in her Texas drawl. ‘We should hit up the clubs to celebrate. I’ll get us on some guestlists.’ She pauses, then adds a little coolly, ‘And obvs bring Brandon since you guys are back together.’ I turn to grin at her excitedly – though I suddenly feel tired by the idea of it. She continues as I balance a dripping plate on her draining board. ‘And of course, if you need, you can totally stay here for another…’ she pauses, ‘… night.’ My heart sinks.
Where am I going to go? I’ll have to move in with Brandon after all. Why does the idea make me feel so miserable?
But at least I’d have somewhere to stay. At least I’d be safe. And isn’t that why I married him in the first place? Because I thought it would make me safe.
Enya laughs. ‘Maybe even an extra two nights if you’re going to clean up after me! Thanks, girl! I don’t remember you being so well house trained last time you crashed here!’
I think the last time Icrashedat Enya’s was last year. We had a wild night out for Independence Day – which I only found out that nightwasn’tnamed after the Will Smith and Bill Pullman movie. I just thought the Yanks really, really liked that film.
It was the same bar where I later met Brandon.
I consider again the way Jemma looked at me when he turned up in London like that and told her who he was.
I haven’t replied to her messages. Or anyone’s. They’ve all tried to get in touch – Jem, Salma, Harry, Mum, Angela. I even got a Snapchat from Buffy, but it was mostly just to ask me to bring her a job lot of Twinkies the next time I’m coming home.
My phone buzzes and I dry my soapy hands on a damp tea towel. It’s Jemma again. I sigh, ready to throw the phone in the sink along with the dirty water, when the message preview catches my eye.
We’re at JFK.
I gasp, flicking the whole message open as more texts come in.
Me and Harry have come to see you, and if you don’t tell us where you are, or where we can meet you in the next hour, we will bill you for the flights.
Her next text comes in just seconds later.
I can see the double ticks, so I know you’re reading this. Reply immediately or I’m going to ring 911 and report you as a missing person.
