less alone?’
Me: ‘Yeah, it did, a lot. Like, maybe because we were in rehab, I didn’t have to pretend to be anyone other than myself. I was . . .’ – I searched the air for the right expression – ‘comfortable with him. Like I didn’t have to explain anything to him.’
Fi: ‘So when did that feeling of having a friend tip over into something romantic?’
I winced as she – or rather I – said that, but it had to be said.
Me: ‘It was that night of Vanessa’s suicide attempt. I was at the hospital and then Miles joined me. He put his arm round my shoulder and I fell asleep against his chest. It felt like . . . home.’
At this point, Fi would have handed me the box of tissues, but there weren’t any out here on the terrace, so I swept a hand across my eyes, then grabbed my ringing cell like a lifeline.
‘Hi, Mariam.’
‘Electra? It’s me, Lizzie, from rehab, remember?’
‘Of course I do! Sorry, Lizzie, I was expecting my PA to call me back. It’s great to hear from you. How are you?’
‘The honest answer to that question is not good. I’ve left Christopher.’
‘Oh my God! Like, how? Why?’
‘Listen, it’s a long story, but I was wondering if you’re busy just now?’
‘No, not at all. Fire away,’ I said, thinking how a conversation about Lizzie’s shit of a husband would fill in the time nicely before I left for AA.
‘Actually, I’d prefer to tell you in person. Can I come round and see you?’
‘What? From LA?!’
‘I’m not in LA, Electra. I’m here in New York. And I’ve just discovered that the bastard has called the bank to cancel all my credit cards. I’m at JFK and don’t have enough money to get a cab, let alone a hotel room. Oh dear . . .’
I heard a sudden sob on the other end of the line.
‘Oh no, Lizzie. I’m so sorry. What a vindictive prick!’
‘I know. I bet he was scared that I would withdraw everything I could on the cards. Obviously I need to see a lawyer but . . . I’m so sorry to call, I had no one else to turn to.’
‘Lizzie, you go and get yourself in a cab right now. I’ll tell the concierge to pay for it once you arrive here. Do you have my address?’
‘Yes, you gave it to me the day I left The Ranch, remember? I’m so sorry, Electra, I—’
‘Please stop saying sorry, Lizzie. We’ll talk when you get here, okay?’
‘Okay. See you soon.’
I stood up and hung over the balcony and screamed out unrepeatable words on Lizzie’s behalf into the toxic Manhattan air. As I was halfway through spelling out a particularly juicy one, my cell rang again.
‘Electra? It’s me, Mariam,’ she said, panting slightly. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine, really.’
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t answer my phone immediately, but I’m actually close by and can be with you within ten minutes.’
‘No, no, I’m good, Mariam, honestly. I’m sorry for interrupting your day.’
‘Oh, okay. Phew,’ she chuckled. ‘Well, I’m here if you need me.’
‘Sure, thanks, Mariam. See you on Monday.’ I ended the call, then grabbed my wallet and went down to the concierge to give him the cash to pay for Lizzie’s cab. I was feeling much brighter. Simply because I had a friend – a real friend – and it made me feel good to think she had turned to me for help.
An hour later, I settled Lizzie on the terrace with a ‘nice cup of tea’, as she always called it. She looked so bedraggled, it was now me having the maternal feelings rather than the other way around.
‘Oh Electra, it’s such a cliché,’ she sighed as she sipped her tea. ‘Chris has been having an affair with one of the actresses on his new film. She’s young enough to be his daughter and incredibly beautiful. She’s Brazilian, six feet to his five-five, and . . . Maybe it was the time in rehab that gave me some modicum of self-worth back, but I just . . . well, I blew up.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘Apart from the stench of exotic perfume that hung in my bedroom when I arrived home?’ she said. ‘As well as the bright red lipstick made by a brand I would never even contemplate buying still sitting on my dressing table? On my dressing table! Can you believe it?’ Lizzie shook her head. ‘It was like she was