Best Eaten Cold Page 7

  I had a bit of time before I had to be at Quod and popped into Waterstone's to see what was new. The Booker prize had just been awarded and there were two tables featuring the short-listed books and a big display for the winner, a book about the Japanese work camps in the war. Even though it looked dark and depressing, I've always made a point of reading the Booker winner and picked up a copy.

  I was excited about seeing Charlie. She'd been on my Politics and French course at Bristol and was my best mate for the first two years of uni. We ended up in the same halls in Stoke Bishop and, in our second year, we shared a flat in Clifton with four other girls.

  Charlie spent her year abroad in Toulouse while I was in Paris and, when we came back for the fourth year, we somehow drifted apart. I hadn't seen her since and I wasn't sure why not. There'd been something about a French boyfriend, which might have been it.

  I was early but Charlie was already there, very smart in a black skirt and white blouse. I had no idea what her job was – her Facebook page was minimalist to say the least – but she looked important and successful.

  We hugged and kissed and made all of the noises good friends do when they've not seen each other for a while, before sitting at a table and getting down to proper catching up.

  'You look great,' I said. 'Very chic and professional. You were always the high-flyer though. What are you up to?'

  'Oh, fairly boring stuff actually,' said Charlie. 'I work for an MP, but I'll tell you more about me in a minute. What about you? Married, and a mother too? I didn't see that coming. You've not brought your baby with you?'

  'Well, someone's got to do the marriage thing and both of my boys are gorgeous,' I said, feeling a surge of pride. 'Sorry I didn't bring Sam with me. I left him at home with the mother-in-law because I wanted to have a chance to properly catch up.'

  I took out my iPad. 'Look. Here he is,' I said. '... And here he is with Rupert.'

  Charlie reached for the iPad and started scrolling through the photos. 'He's very cute,' she said. 'And Sam's quite sweet as well.'

  I snorted cappucino foam across the table. 'Well you haven't changed. Remind me never to introduce you to my husband.'

  She giggled. 'Don't worry, you're safe. I'm spoken for. He's called Anthony and we're getting married next year.' She flashed a massive diamond in front of my eyes.

  'Whoa! It's huge,' I said. 'You must be over the moon. But, bloody hell, we're all getting so old. How did that happen?'

  'No idea,' Charlie said. 'You turn your back for ten minutes and ...'

  'I know. Look at me. I ended up with a baby.'

  'I think we know how that happened though. Don't we?' She'd always been famous for her dirty laugh. Rich, throaty and full of innuendo.

  'Totally busted,' I said. 'I can vaguely remember something ...'

  I finished my half-hearted attempts to wipe the foam off the table and my bag. It was lucky I'd missed Charlie's smart white blouse.

  'It's been so long,' I said. 'I don't understand why we've not seen each other all this time. It's crazy. Thanks again for the flowers. They were a brilliant surprise.'

  'No worries,' she said. 'It wasn't just me. It was all of us. We thought that, now Jax is out of the picture, we might get to see you again from time to time.'

  'What's Jax got to do with it?'

  'You must know,' she said. 'The last time I tried to call, Jax answered your phone and made it very clear you weren't interested in seeing anyone from the old crowd. It wasn't the only time that happened.'

  'Jax said that? How weird? I've no idea where she got that from.' I looked at Charlie. It wasn't the sort of thing she would make up. 'It does explain a lot though. Do you see everyone else from the flat?'

  'Yeah. And a few others. We all get together at least once a year and I see Amanda most weeks. We're catching up just before Christmas down at my parents' house. You should definitely come.'

  'I'd love to. That would be brilliant. I miss you guys.'

  'Perfect. Done deal. I'll mail you the details. No excuses this time.'

  'I promise,' I said, smiling as a trail of happy, giggling memories popped behind my eyes like bursting soap bubbles on a sunny day. 'I'll bring Sam, but don't tell them I'm coming.'

  'Good plan,' she said. 'I can see their faces already.'

  'Great. That's sorted. You wouldn't believe how excited I am. Now, tell me about your MP. Who is it and what do you do for him or her?'

  'OK. Well I've just started a new job. I went through the usual grind of unpaid internships and general dogsbody jobs before getting anything decent, but I've now been promoted to Senior Parliamentary Assistant to Simon Armitage.'

  'What, the young, tasty one who got a cabinet job a couple of months ago?' I said, genuinely impressed. 'I wouldn't throw him out of bed, whatever his politics.' He was a Tory, of course. Charlie had a typical public school background like so many Bristol Uni students. Grew up in Surrey or Hampshire or some such Home Counties ghetto.

  'It's strictly professional unfortunately and I don't think he's the type to play away from home.' It was great to see Charlie again and I felt like we'd jumped straight back to the old days. I'd missed our pointless, puerile banter. 'But I've got Anthony now, so ...'

  'And you're Senior Parliamentary Assistant to a cabinet member before you're thirty, that must be some sort of record?'

  'I doubt it, but I'm way younger than most of the others, which is tricky as they're a bitchy bunch. Nothing I can't handle, though.' Charlie smiled and looked at me. 'But, much more importantly, how did Fabiola 'I'm going to change the world' Carlantino end up a posh, young married mother in Oxford?'

  I shrugged my shoulders. 'You tell me. Shit happens, I guess.'

  'Start at the beginning. What happened to you, Jax and that guy Darren? An interesting ménage à trois if ever I saw one.'

  'Not so much to tell, really. Daz was a sweet guy, but I never fancied him. I know he had a big thing for me, but I didn't have eyes for anyone but Jax at the time.'

  'What about the lovely Jax? I never figured out why she hated us so much?'

  'What complete bollocks!' I said. 'Jax didn't hate you. Why would she?'

  'Beats me,' said Charlie. 'But she did.'

  'Anyway.' I didn't feel like digging deeper into that strangeness. 'Me and Jax were together for five years – until a couple of years ago. You know how it is? As time goes by, people change and sometimes they change together and in a good way, and sometimes they don't. Jax was getting closer to the violent factions and even our anarchist friends were starting to distance themselves from her.'

  'Well, that doesn't surprise me one little bit,' said Charlie. 'She was always scary mad.'

  'That might be a bit harsh,' I said. 'But anyway, it was as though I woke up from a trance one day and realised we didn't actually have much in common, even though we'd been together for five years. It was a hell of a shock.'

  'So, it was you who broke it up? I can't imagine Jax taking that well?'

  'She didn't. I made myself scarce after we split, but from what I've heard, she wasn't a happy bunny.'

  'Ta da,' said Charlie. 'Why am I not surprised? It's funny you talk about being in a trance though; that was what we all said at the time – that you were under some sort of spell, that you were bewitched.'

  She took a sip of her coffee and continued. 'Once you and Jax got together, your other friends were cut out of your life, just like that. We'd been best mates and then I was suddenly a fascist representative of the system. It was like you'd joined one of those religious cults.'

  'God, I'm sorry. I had no idea.'

  'Really? Are you serious? You must have known.'

  'Yeah, totally serious. I think I was caught up in this crazy whirlwind of new ideas and experiences, including the fact that she was a girl. I probably thought you were all jealous.' Picking at the scabs of my past with Jax was both painful and surprisingly compelling. 'I'll tell you one thing for sure. I'm glad to be free of it.'

 
; 'Yeah. I can imagine,' she said. 'Anyway, who gives a fuck! It's all in the past. Let's forget about it.' She looked up at the clock. 'Shit. I have to go. Simon's speaking at the Union in twenty minutes and, seeing as I wrote the speech, I should probably be there.'

  'No problem,' I said. 'I'll get the coffees.'

  'Thanks,' said Charlie standing up. 'Let's catch up properly very soon, definitely before the Christmas thing. With Rupert and Anthony maybe? And I definitely want to meet little Sam. I'll give you my mobile number and you can text me.'

  'That would be great. You'll like Rupert. He's one of your lot.'

  I went to get my phone from my bag but couldn't find it anywhere. I emptied the bag on the table and felt the first fingers of panic knotting and twisting in my gut as I realised it wasn't there.

  I needed to stay calm. I had probably dropped it somewhere when I was getting my wallet out. I wasn't imagining anything. I'd simply misplaced my phone.

  The thing was that it was brand new – I'd persuaded Rupert to get me a new phone in case my problems were somehow linked to my old one. I'd also set up a new password on my email account, to make sure – just because you're paranoid doesn't mean the whole world isn't out to get you, after all.

  Losing the new phone on my first day out again would be a disaster. I must have dropped it somewhere. There was no point in panicking until I'd checked.

  I took a deep breath and turned back to Charlie. 'I think I've left my phone somewhere. Can I borrow yours to call my number?'

  'Sure,' she said, handing me her phone. 'But be quick.'

  Six long rings later, someone answered. 'Hello?'

  'Hello,' I said. 'I'm dialling my own phone which I appear to have mislaid. Who am I speaking to?'

  'Oh, I'm glad you called,' the voice answered. 'This is Jennie from Waterstones. I work on the front till and someone handed in your phone about an hour ago. She found it on the floor.'

  'Thank God for that,' I said. 'Thank you. You're a lifesaver. I'll be along in about twenty minutes to collect it.'

  'That's a bloody relief,' I said to Charlie, handing her back her phone. 'I could really do without losing my phone right now.'

  Charlie was obviously anxious to leave. She handed me a scrap of paper with her number on it and gave me a hug and a kiss. 'It was wonderful to see you. Call me soon,' she said, and rushed off.

  Although I knew it would be there waiting for me, I found it difficult to breathe until I finally got my phone back from Jennie at Waterstone's. I quickly checked to make sure no-one had used it to call Australia or India or somewhere outrageous, but all was fine. God knows how I'd managed to lose it from my handbag in the first place but, in the list of idiotic things I'd been doing over the previous few weeks, it wasn't even appearing in the top ten. Everything is relative.

  I still had an hour to spare and no great desire to sit and chew the fat with Virginia, so I took the opportunity to go and pick up the euros which I'd pre-ordered for our Italy trip. It was now only only a week away. I already had the parking and flight confirmations printed out and in a folder together with our passports and as many contact details for Italian relations as I could find. I then only had two outstanding tasks on my to-do list: cash ,which I was about to sort out, and Sam's shiny new passport which was due to arrive on the following Monday.

  There was a little place called Senli Cash & Go on Broad Street which gave much better exchange rates than all of the traditional places – there were some advantages of being stuck at home with an iPad and a broadband connection – and I had my Euros in minutes.

  With one of my two remaining tasks completed and my phone safely zipped into my bag, I felt buoyant and carefree for the first time in ages. I would show everyone I hadn't lost the plot and could still be trusted. It was time to snap out of this negative spiral and to get on with life. I would put everything behind me and get back onto an even keel.

  The low, winter sun glowed in an opalescent sky as I cut down Great Clarendon Street on my way home. I might have been fired up and feeling positive, but I found my feet superstitiously crossing to the other side of the street as I went past the Oxford University Press building.

  'Hi Virginia. Sorry I'm a bit late.'

  'Oh. Don't worry,' she said, whispering. 'It was only fifteen minutes and I'm not in a hurry.' She nodded her head behind her. 'He's asleep. Been down about half an hour. We had a lovely afternoon. What about you?'

  I could tell Virginia had been worrying about me being late, which was ridiculous. I suppose I wouldn't have minded if I'd believed she genuinely cared about me and my well being, but it didn't feel like that.

  It was as though she was more concerned with building ammunition to bolster up some kind of warped, smug, I-told-you-so, schadenfreude. I was pretty sure I knew exactly what was going on in her head. I might be going crazy, but it didn't make me a complete imbecile.

  I could just imagine her. 'I did try to tell you, Roopie. She's a pretty girl, but not the right sort. No real backbone and too many secrets. There's no smoke without fire, you know. You should have listened to me.'

  We both kept our thoughts to ourselves, of course.

  'I had a great time, thanks. I was so happy to catch up with Charlie after all of these years. It was as though I'd seen her yesterday.'

  'I'm pleased,' she said. 'It's important for you to have friends around you.'

  There it was. The obligatory smear of innuendo. Only missing the end of the sentence '... when you're in such an emotionally fragile state.'

  'What does Charlie do?' she continued. 'Is she married?'

  'Not yet. She's just got engaged. I don't know if she'll have much time for marriage though – she's a bit of a high flyer, career-wise.'

  'Really?'

  'Yes. She's Senior Parliamentary Assistant to Simon Armitage.'

  'What? The Simon Armitage?'

  'Yes.'

  'And she's the same age as you?'

  'More or less.'

  'Well, that is impressive. A good friend to have.'

  I suppose I should have been happy I was earning some extra Brownie points by association, but it wasn't going to make any difference. Virginia had made up her mind about me and nothing was going to change that.

  The Old Country

  Email remains key to our Internet life. Most transactions – banking, income tax, company tax, car tax, grant applications, online purchases, flight reservations, hotel bookings etc – can be managed online. Confirmation is almost always by email. We have learnt to be afraid of email spam but, when a confirmation email is expected, most of us trust the content without question.

  "How much is your Life Worth? Protecting your Identity in a Digital World." JJ Martin, Insight Business Press 2015

  It was Tuesday afternoon and I was beginning to panic. Sam's passport should have arrived the previous week and we were flying on the Friday. Everything else was ready, I had the tickets and the car parking receipt, Alberto was going to meet us at Brindisi airport, I'd checked everything a hundred times. All I needed was Sam's bloody passport.

  I didn't want to get Rupert involved; he was working long hours to finish everything before we left and this was supposed to be my trip, where I would organise every detail and prove in some childish way that I was still capable of behaving like a competent adult.

  Telling Rupert about the passport would have exactly the opposite effect, but I had no choice. If it didn't arrive in time, we would have wasted all the money and wouldn't be able to go.

  He didn't come home until well after seven, by which time Sam was asleep and I was already the wrong side of two large chardonnays and a whole bowl of cashews.

  'I'm worried about Sam's passport,' I blurted out, before he'd even taken his coat off. 'It hasn't been delivered yet.'

  'That's not good,' he turned to look at me. 'You said it was due last week. Just let me get in the door though. Is the Samster asleep?'

  'Sorry, I've been stressing about it all day. Yes, Sam's ou
t for the count. Do you want a glass of wine?'

  'I could murder a beer actually. I've been talking non-stop for the past three hours. Bloody demanding clients.' He waved both hands at me, fingers crossed. 'It's looking very good for a big deal in the next few weeks though. That'll pay for Christmas if it comes through.'

  'That's amazing,' I said, trying to control my trembling fingers as I handed him a bottle of Becks. 'You're turning out to be quite the star.'

  'Well, I wouldn't go that far but I think we're in good shape for now. So, tell me about Sam's passport. Have you been in touch with the passport office?'

  'I've tried, but it's impossible. I can't get through on phone or email and I can't make the bloody status-tracking link work. It keeps rejecting me and won't let me change or update my password.'

  I hated the idea of being the useless female technophobe and I wasn't totally incompetent, but technology really did seem to be conspiring against me. It was like trying to pick up a freshly-landed fish as it gasped and flapped on the riverbank; each time I thought I had a good grip, it would slip away and leave me holding out my empty, slimy hands and looking like a fool.

  'It's a government site,' said Rupert. 'What do you expect?'

  'To tell you the truth, I expect it to bloody work,' I said. 'And I expect to be able to manage it without needing help. I really didn't want to get you involved with this after everything else, but I'm terrified I might have missed something obvious. I'm trying so hard, but I don't trust myself any more.'

  'Don't worry, darling,' he said. 'We need to work as a team and you don't need to prove anything to me. I'm sure there's a simple solution. Let me have a look.'

  He picked up the iPad and started searching through my emails.

  'Here we go,' he said. 'They confirmed your online application on the tenth of November and asked you to send your signed declaration form, photos and supporting documentation. Ridiculous bureaucratic bullshit. What's the point of building an online application system if you still need to send in the paper forms? Did you send them off?'