Chapter Forty Four

Sorcha stood in her bedroom, looking at the dress in its hanger. It was a dull, overcast afternoon, and she’d had to turn the central heating on to stop herself shivering. She was in danger of being ready way too early, but was struggling to think of anything else to do. Jane had called just as she had got back from the hairdresser’s to wish her good luck, which had felt like an odd thing to say.

“What for?” Jane had assumed that it was a question which didn’t need an answer, which didn’t help. “You know, the weird bit is that it doesn’t feel like a date. It’s more like a work thing that I don’t particularly want to do, but know I have to anyway. And it’s just started raining.”

The sky had grown several shades darker. As she looked out of the window, Sorcha wondered where the promise of the summer had gone.

“I don’t believe you! You’re doing something that thousands of women would kill for – just get out there and enjoy yourself for once.”

Sorcha tried to summon up some sense of excitement, or at least of anticipation, but there was no response. Jane should have known better than to expect one.

“Even though he’s a scrawny talentless moron?”

“That wasn’t quite what I said.”

“All I’ve done is reordered the words, and you know it!” Sorcha knew that wasn’t the point, but still needed to make it, “It’s not even really about him, anyway. It’s more about the situation as a whole, which is just a nightmare. And I kind of sense that it’s all going to come to an end soon, but I don’t know how, and I’m not even sure that I want it to.”

Jane had felt distant ever since Pip had e-mailed the photo of Jake and Sorcha to her earlier in the week, and Sorcha’s tone just compounded that sense. She could understand why she might be reluctant to say that much about him, but it felt as if she was deliberately talking in riddles.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you OK?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to have to shut up, keep out of the way, and smile if anyone sticks a camera in my face, none of which is really my style. Apart from that it might be fun.”

Jane couldn’t tell whether the low-level sense of dread which Sorcha was projecting was real or a front, but there was no way of finding out if she didn’t want her to know.

“Well, I’ll expect a full report tomorrow, if you can spare me the time. Send me a text if you can’t, as otherwise I’ll spend the day worrying about what’s happened to you.” There was no point in trying to carry on a conversation which Sorcha didn’t want to have. “Have you seen Pip?”

Sorcha’s conscience twinged: Pip had somehow fallen off the list when she and Jane had spoken earlier in the week. .

“No, I know… When I spoke to her last week she was having hassle with Dan, and he had taken her computer and phone away which all sounded a bit odd. But she was back online earlier in the week, so I figured they must have sorted it out.”

Jane was frustrated, but didn’t quite know why.

“She’s disappeared again now, though.”

Sorcha felt as if she was being told off, but decided that it was still better to make a full confession.

“I know. And I discovered a message from Dan on my work voicemail from a couple of days ago, saying that he wanted to talk about something private. It got caught up in all of the weird stuff, and I only saw it when I was going through the list this morning. I’ll give him a call tomorrow, and go and see them next weekend. I just need to get all of this out of the way first, Pet. I’m sorry.”

Jane knew there was no point in pushing her, but was struggling to understand what was going on in her head.

“OK. Well, have a fabulous time even if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’ll knock them dead.”

Sorcha felt weak and wan, and unequal to the task ahead of her, but talking about it was only going to make it worse.

“Maybe. At least the dress is good, and I have the underwear sorted this time. Just in case.”

Jane had not dared ask for clarification and had left Sorcha to paint her toenails very slowly, which had still not taken nearly long enough. When Jake arrived she had been standing in her sitting room with the TV on, flipping between channels every few minutes, for the best part of an hour. When she opened the door, the first thing she saw was the security guard standing next to him. It wasn’t exactly reassuring. Having checked that they had a few minutes before they needed to leave, Jake motioned to him to stay on the landing and closed the flat door behind him.

Sorcha was standing looking at him, and she looked unsure. He was wearing a slightly fussy DJ with a black shirt that was open at the neck, and his hair was gelled up. It wasn’t something that anyone else she knew would wear other than as a joke, but she also knew that wasn’t why it looked odd. Then she realised that he was wearing mascara, and probably not only that. Just then, he pulled her towards him. He took her face in one hand as he put his other hand against her lower back and pressed her hard up against him, and then he kissed her. It was a very well-practiced manoeuvre, which ensured maximum contact while still making sure that that nobody’s make-up ended up on anyone else’s clothes, but Sorcha didn’t fully appreciate its subtlety. All she felt was Jake, around her and against her and next to her: it took her a couple of seconds to adjust. Once she did, the sense of excitement which had missing earlier in the afternoon very nearly knocked her over: however much she tried to maintain some sense of composure, it felt like there were fireworks going off all around her. His tongue was probing round and round her mouth, and his body felt taught and ready against hers. When they finally pulled apart, he seemed to be wearing most of her lip gloss, and her brain seemed to have turned into rice pudding. She couldn’t think of anything sensible to say at all.

Jake put his hands on her shoulders and took a step back, weighing her up. She was wearing a long, black dress, which had an over layer hanging from a band of beading and diamante which went up and over one shoulder. The beading was in a bold, spiral pattern, and she had jangling bracelets and bangles on the opposite arm. Jake wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. There was nothing about her which looked out of place.

Sorcha stood in front of him, rubbing her lips together and wondering where her brain had gone. She was wishing that he was a lot less than a foot away. He ran his index finger slowly along her neckline, which really didn’t help, before managing to string most of a sentence together.

“Shame we can’t stay here.”

“Mmmm”

It was the best that she could do, and even then it was a bit shaky.

“We can come back later, though.” He was about to qualify it; to say that they would only come back if she wanted to, but he didn’t even need to look at her to know that he didn’t need to. He looked at her anyway, and thought that she looked like Audrey Hepburn. He had no idea what to do about it.

“You look different when you’re not in jeans, you know.”

Sorcha looked down at her feet, and the bangles on her wrist. It slowly dawned on her that she looked at least as odd to him as he did to her.

“You look like a pop star.” She knew that she had no idea what she was talking about, “At least, I think you look like what a pop star looks like.”

Jake wasn’t sure whether it was OK to smile or not, so he tried not to.

“It’s only for a few hours, I promise. Shall we get this over and done with?”

She couldn’t work out whether she wanted to hurry things up or slow them down, but knew that she was unlikely to manage to think straight until it was too late to decide.

“Mmmm. Just kiss me again first. Please. And then let me go and fix my lip gloss.” He seemed to hesitate: he was staring as if he was trying to lock something into his mind. She took his face in both hands, and pulled him back down towards her.