‘So I buy my clothes from Zara. Look, family is my thing.’
It wasn’t even her family: they were his brothers. But she had no brothers or sisters of her own and she was nothing if not resourceful.
‘Who’s driving?’ he asked.
‘You.’ She’d a million emails to answer.
Climbing into the car, she was deep in thought. Maybe she needed to make changes to her spending, but it was hard to know what to do. Should you live each second to the full, grabbing every opportunity and making as many precious memories as possible? Or should you carefully salt resources away, having a comfortable buffer zone in place, in the event that disaster struck?
It was impossible to decide, because you never knew what was coming down the tracks.
FIVE MONTHS EARLIER
* * *
MAY
Dilly’s First Communion
TWENTY
Cara hunted through the jumble of cosmetics on her dressing table. She’d pressed so much iridescent shimmer onto her cheekbones that more eyebrow definition was needed to balance it. And one more circle of glittery brown eyeliner wouldn’t hurt.
The lip gloss, though … She looked as if she’d fallen face down into a field of cherry jam, so sticky she could barely open her mouth. How had they lived like this in the nineties?
Her hair was loose apart from the two – frankly, amazing – horns on the top of her head, courtesy of Hannah. She’d twisted a thick lock of Cara’s hair around a cone of styrofoam, pinned it in place with a gazillion clips – ‘A nuclear missile won’t shift them’ – then sprayed each finished horn a sinister shade of dark red.
Unexpectedly, the clothes had been the easy part. The long slip dress, in slithery black satin, left over from her youth, had been lurking at the back of her wardrobe. Astonishingly – and admittedly with the assistance of Spanx – it still fitted. The red top, embossed with silver stars, she’d found on eBay. And Erin had loaned her the super-high leopard-print platform sandals.
Platforms were great. So easy to walk in, and looking taller also made her look slimmer and perhaps she should wear them more oft–
‘Hey!’ Ed was out on the landing, staring in. ‘You look –’
‘What?’ Suddenly she was anxious. ‘Stupid?’
‘God, no. You look …’ he studied her ‘… hawt.’ Moving towards her he said, his voice slightly hoarse, ‘Do you have to go out?’
‘Ha-ha.’ The very thought of missing this.
He slid his arm around her waist. ‘Are they your eyelashes?’
‘No … God, Ed, you haven’t a clue.’ She regarded him fondly.
‘If I kiss you, will we get stuck together?’
‘Yep.’
‘For ever?’
‘Yep. Have you got my drink?’
He produced her metal coffee mug. ‘A hundred mls of vodka in there, four measures. And as much Red Bull as would fit. Honey, you’re sure about this? Can’t you just go to a pub first?’
‘We’re reliving our youth.’ His concern tickled her. ‘We were grand then. We’ll be grand now. What’ll you do tonight?’
‘Put that pair to bed. Watch Kevin McCloud. Maybe smoke the world’s weakest spliff.’
‘Ed …’
‘No spliff?’
‘Not with the kids here. Even if they’re asleep. Sorry.’
‘No. You’re right.’
Her mobile beeped at the same time as a car outside. ‘That’ll be my taxi. Bye, honey. Don’t wait up.’
Crowds of Spice-Girl-alikes were milling around the gate. It took a while to spot Gabby and Erin in among them. Then, there they were, Gabby in denim cut-offs, a denim shirt over a silver corset and a long, flammable-looking blonde ponytail, Erin in red patent knee boots, a black latex dress and an orangey-red wig.
Cara launched herself at them.
‘You look so young!’ Gabby squealed. ‘It’s 1998 all over again.’
‘You look amazing.’
‘No, you look amazing.’
‘You look more amazing.’
‘We all look amazing.’ Erin plucked at her dress. ‘But I am melting in this. Latex is a young woman’s game.’ She produced a small Evian bottle. ‘Have you got your drink?’
‘Are we just going to do it, standing here in the street?’ Cara asked.
‘Sure!’ Erin took a defiant swallow and nodded at a hovering security guard. ‘Respectable mother of three, thank you for asking.’
‘Really?’ Gabby seemed uncertain. But after the first couple of swigs, she said, ‘Sneaky drinking is like riding a bike. It’s all coming back to me.’
‘It should come back to you,’ Erin said. ‘As drinkers go, you were the worst.’
‘Excuse me, you were the worst.’
‘Sometimes I was the worst,’ Cara said.
‘You were never the worst drinker,’ Erin said.
‘But she had terrible form with men. Remember, Cara, you were seeing that fool –’