Read Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend Online
Authors: Jenny Colgan
Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend (5 page)
ads
I stood there, absolutely rooted to the spot. I couldn’t believe what was happening, right in front of my eyes. They were so close to one another . . . Carena was wearing an absolutely fierce super-mini skirt. Next to it my romantic dress suddenly felt utterly ridiculous.
‘Come here, you,’ Rufus said. It’s what he always said to me. But he wasn’t saying it to me. As if watching a film, two people I didn’t know at all, I watched as, in total slow motion, Carena moved her face up to meet his, and suddenly they were kissing.
The second they connected, I came back to myself. And I heard myself screaming.
‘What the
fu
—!’
fu
—!’
The worst of it was, that they didn’t even leap apart. Rufus shook his head, looking like a confused dog. Carena looked at me with a pitying expression - one I’d seen so often at school but had never had directed at me before. It hurt.
‘What the
hell
are you doing?’ I screamed again, stopping the party in its tracks.
hell
are you doing?’ I screamed again, stopping the party in its tracks.
Suddenly, a load of flashbulbs went off in my face. The paparazzi may not know who I was, but this smelled like a story.
Carena turned round to me. ‘I know this looks terrible,’ she announced, unbelievably composed.
You think?
‘But, Sophie - I think true love has struck us! And nothing could keep us apart.’
‘Um, hmm,’ said Rufus.
My brain tried to compute what I was seeing. They were hiding in a corner. He had his hand on her arse. It didn’t look
exactly
like true love.
exactly
like true love.
But I thought of what I’d told Carena that afternoon. About how this was the man, the life, the fun - everything I wanted. And all those years we’d been friends and I’d told her how wonderful she was, how cool and brave and fun. And finally I had something she’d wanted . . . and she’d taken it. Just taken it.
Philly rushed up, ludicrous in a maxi dress that made her look like she was shuffling about on her knees. ‘Sorry, Carena, I tried to distract her . . .’
Oh God, so she knew all about it. When had they cooked up this little plan?
I stared at the three of them, aware my mouth was flapping like a jellyfish. I wanted to say something witty and devastating. Or, OK, I couldn’t think of anything witty and devastating. Something rude and to the point. But I opened my mouth and no sound came out. Nothing at all. It was as if, at the same time as Rufus slashed my heart, he took my vocal chords along with it. I waited two seconds, just in case Rufus might turn and look at Carena, slap his forehead in despair and shout, ‘Sophie, what was I
thinking
? This horrible slut put something in my drink and bamboozled me, but how could she when it’s you I love? You I want to be with and look after and build a gorgeous life with for ever! Get away from me, you hag!’
thinking
? This horrible slut put something in my drink and bamboozled me, but how could she when it’s you I love? You I want to be with and look after and build a gorgeous life with for ever! Get away from me, you hag!’
I waited. He didn’t. Carena glared at me, grasping the sleeves of his jacket. Rufus wasn’t looking at anyone, in the manner of a dog just caught misbehaving under the table.
There was nothing else for it. I took off my six-hundred-pound shoes and threw them at them as hard as I could, then turned around and ran for it.
Sitting in the back of the taxi, my whole body was red hot. I could feel myself trembling. How could she? How could he? My pretty dress felt like a silly joke. I burned up thinking about what I had said to the girls at lunch . . . about how, maybe one day, I thought we might be . . . I shook my head to try and get rid of the image. Then I remembered mentioning Rufus’s big house. Was it possible? Had Carena suddenly realised that he was richer than she’d thought? No, surely not.
I thought about Carena - my best friend, who took me to my first Take That concert, and my first nightclub, gave me my first glass of champagne. What was she doing now? Was she still at the party complaining that I completely overreacted? Or was she embarrassed? Had she rushed out, feeling awful at kissing her friend’s man? Somehow, grimly, I didn’t think so. Oh God. Suddenly I thought I was going to be sick.
‘You all right, love?’ asked the cabbie, looking concerned.
I felt the tears well up. My sexy, funny Rufus - mine! My lovely boy! - distracted in three seconds by a short skirt and a surprised-looking face. To lose a friend and a boyfriend all at once. How could life be so cruel?
At first I didn’t see the ambulance. I was half-blinded by tears, and the savage amount of alcohol I’d managed to knock back, so I didn’t really pay attention until I saw it was right outside our house.
Blinking, I climbed out of the taxi. I glanced upwards. Standing by the large French windows, silhouetted in the gathering gloom, was my stepmother. She wasn’t moving and she had her back to the window.
And the front door was open. It was never left unlocked. But none of this really registered as, deep in misery, I set off up the stairs.
The first thing I heard was crying. A soft sound that came from downstairs, which meant it was probably Esperanza. My brain couldn’t compute: what did this mean?
From up above me came much more urgent noises - shouting, rough voices, things banging and moving around. Feeling like I was in a dream, I put my shaking hand on the banister.
At first I couldn’t take in the scene in the drawing room. It looked like a film, or an episode of
Casualty
. Men and women wearing green and yellow neon jackets were everywhere, yelling and throwing things at each other. My stepmother was standing at the back of the room, by the windows. And there, lying on the floor, a ghastly shade of grey and not moving at all, was my father.
Casualty
. Men and women wearing green and yellow neon jackets were everywhere, yelling and throwing things at each other. My stepmother was standing at the back of the room, by the windows. And there, lying on the floor, a ghastly shade of grey and not moving at all, was my father.
‘Daddy!’ I screamed. One or two of the paramedics looked up - those closest to my dad, the ones actually bent over him,
doing
stuff to him - didn’t. A woman with a ponytail came over to me.
doing
stuff to him - didn’t. A woman with a ponytail came over to me.
‘Are you Sophia?’ she said.
‘It’s Sophie, actually,’ I said. Sophia was the name my parents called me. The woman looked at me strangely.
‘Well,
Sophie
,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid your dad’s had a very serious heart attack.’
Sophie
,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid your dad’s had a very serious heart attack.’
Oh God, oh God. Was he going to die?
I knelt down on the floor, but the ponytailed woman gently pulled me back. ‘It’s best if you let our team work,’ she said. ‘We’re doing all we can.’
I looked at my father’s face. It was the most peculiar colour.
‘Well do MORE,’ I screamed. ‘Fix him!’
‘We’re trying our best.’
‘Well, try your best FASTER!’
There was a sudden silence in the room. I couldn’t work out what it was; but there’d been lots of machines beeping and humming and making breathy noises. Suddenly I realised that they weren’t making those noises any more.
A burly man with a shaved head who’d been bent over Daddy knelt back on his haunches. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking at Gail and me. ‘I’m really sorry. He’s gone.’
From somewhere deep within me, I didn’t even know where, I heard a great howl . . . ‘Daddy! Daddy!’
The paramedics looked embarrassed. I reached him - Daddy - the body, I didn’t know, and collapsed on top of him, hugging him with all my might. He still felt warm. But that was all. He didn’t feel of anything else. He didn’t smell of his normal smell - cigars, whisky if it was in the evening, cologne in the morning. He smelt of antiseptic wipes and, oddly, burning.
‘Daddy,’ I whimpered again, feeling the tears start to gather and run down my face. And I think the paramedics were as polite as they could be, and waited as long as they could before they had to pack up their things, wait for the undertaker, and leave.
Later, the house silent, Gail and I finally looked at each other. Years of animosity stood between us, like a huge rock. Suddenly I wanted to push it out the way, run to her, forget all the tantrums and the jealousies. I just wanted someone to hold me.
‘Gail—’
She cut me off curtly. ‘He called you. He wanted you. But you seemed to be too busy to pick up the phone.’
And she abruptly left the room.
Chapter Five
It’s hard to describe the weeks after my father’s death. I’ve never known pain like it. Nowadays I have taken that grief and locked it in a box, and buried it deep inside. Those weeks of swirling, half-awake nightmares, where I would wake up with a start and relive the whole thing again; the hazy, Percodan-fuelled days when I didn’t even open the blackout curtains. It was a dark place, and I never want to go back there again.
Gail made all the arrangements, because I couldn’t do anything at all. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t leave the house. I needed so badly for someone to put their arms around me and tell me everything was going to be all right. I needed my boyfriend. I needed my friends. I had neither.
I called, once. Carena didn’t pick up, although she must have recognised the number. Then I tried Philly, who after a few piss-weak expressions of sadness about my dad, put on a little girl’s voice, and said, ‘Are you really cross with Carena?’
‘Am I what?’ I said. Cross didn’t really cut it. ‘She’s been . . . she’s been a complete fucking . . .’
‘You know she feels really terrible about it,’ said Philly. ‘And those Gina shoes really hurt.’
‘Good,’ I said grimly. ‘I was hoping the diamante might take out someone’s eye.’
‘She says that it was a passion bigger than both of them . . . that she was just swept away . . .’
‘You know what, I think I have more important things on my mind,’ I said, bitterly.
‘OK,’ said Philly. ‘Uh, what about the funeral . . .’
‘Don’t come,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to see either of you.’
I really regretted that. It wasn’t
my
funeral, though I’m sure Carena and Rufus would have found everything much more convenient if it had been. They should have been there though. Philly, who used to secretly eat all the muffins in our kitchen, and when my dad caught her at it one day he’d laughed hysterically and had a huge muffin basket sent to her house. Carena, who used to explain to him patiently why we needed to have our music so loud. They were part of my dad’s life, too. At least he never met Rufus. And it meant, too, at the funeral, there was no one I knew, just hundreds of businessmen.
my
funeral, though I’m sure Carena and Rufus would have found everything much more convenient if it had been. They should have been there though. Philly, who used to secretly eat all the muffins in our kitchen, and when my dad caught her at it one day he’d laughed hysterically and had a huge muffin basket sent to her house. Carena, who used to explain to him patiently why we needed to have our music so loud. They were part of my dad’s life, too. At least he never met Rufus. And it meant, too, at the funeral, there was no one I knew, just hundreds of businessmen.
‘He was such a good man.’
‘A terrific businessman.’
‘Great to work with.’
All of that I’d expected, and I tried to swallow the ping pong ball in my throat and thank them gracefully. But what I wasn’t expecting from so many strangers were the things they said about me.
‘He was so proud of you.’
‘Says you’ve got a big job in photography.’
‘He always said you worked really hard, that you were doing really well at college.’
Over and over again, people I scarcely recognised came up to tell me things my dad had told them about me. About how great I was, and how well I was doing and how happy I was.
Things that, when I thought about the uselessness of my life - parties, and lunches and messing about - just obviously weren’t true.
Summer turned into autumn and I scarcely noticed. Then one morning Gail rapped sharply at my door.
‘Sophie? Could you come downstairs please? We’re in the study.’
Her voice sounded timid. I’d avoided her - avoided everyone - but I heard her come and go occasionally. I hadn’t asked how she was; I was too selfish and caught up in my own grief.
Gail looked stiff and awkward in the study. Standing next to her was a tall, grey-haired man with small round spectacles and a pursed mouth. Next to him was my father’s old lawyer, Leonard. He looked quiet and sad. He’d given me a big hug at Dad’s funeral. I’d always liked him. He had four daughters and had known me since I was tiny. But it was clear from the way Gail was standing next to the tall chap that he was in charge now.
Sure enough, Gail immediately said, ‘This is Mr Fortescue, my lawyer.’
ads
Other books
Shadow of Regret (Shadow #3) by Barbara Goss
The Witch by Mary Ann Mitchell
Silver Nights With You (Love in the Sierras Book 1) by Belle, Sawyer
The Seekers: The Story of Man's Continuing Quest to Understand His World by Daniel J. Boorstin
Clinical Handbook of Mindfulness by Fabrizio Didonna, Jon Kabat-Zinn
Super Flat Times by Matthew Derby
True Valor by Henderson, Dee
Zeus (The God Chronicles) by Solomon, Kamery
5 Deal Killer by Vicki Doudera
I Ain't Me No More by E.N. Joy
