brush my ear. ‘I’m sorry, Abi. Please look surprised.’ And before my brain can even process what he means he’s leading me down the hallway and up the stairs to the colourful drawing room. He’s simultaneously opening the door while pushing me into a roomful of people who all chorus ‘Surprise’. Someone pops a party banger, another thrusts a glass of champagne into my hand, and I can do nothing but blink in astonishment as I take in Beatrice, smiling widely as she stands in front of Monty, Niall, Maria and Grace, with Cass at her elbow as if she’s a toddler hanging on to her mother’s skirt. I can see Pam snogging her boyfriend (a different one, lanky with a ponytail) by the fireplace and Nia hovering awkwardly beside them. ‘Nia?’ I’m so shocked I almost drop my glass. She edges past the others looking shamefaced.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you,’ she says when she reaches me. She pulls me into her arms and I swallow back tears. ‘Is this okay?’ she whispers into my ear and I manage to nod, to squeak that of course it’s okay, when really a hard lump of disappointment lodges in my throat, and even though I’m delighted that my oldest friend is here with me to celebrate my birthday, a party is the last thing I want. A party only highlights that Lucy isn’t here.
Later, when everyone is dancing to ‘Groove Is In The Heart’, I spot Ben through the melee, laughing with Beatrice and Nia. I go up to him and take his arm, asking if we can talk in private. Not waiting for an answer, I lead him through the living room and out on to the terrace. The sky has turned violet-grey, the threat of rain still hanging in the air. I see Monty in deep conversation with Pam and her new bloke in the corner, Niall is perched on one of the wet sun-loungers with some people I don’t recognize, sharing a spliff. Ben follows me to the railings and leans back against them. The distant screech of a seagull makes me shudder, I’m always surprised by how many seagulls there are in Bath.
‘Are you okay?’ he says distractedly. He’s watching the smokers on the sun-loungers. ‘I hope they’re not going to burn their fags out on that wood. It’s teak. Those loungers were bloody expensive.’ I want to tell him I couldn’t give a toss about the sun-loungers. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his cigarettes, tapping one out of its packet and into the palm of his hand, and offers it to me. When I shake my head he places it between his lips and lights it. I’ve noticed how twitchy he is when he doesn’t have a fag in his hand. ‘Are you enjoying the party?’
‘Not particularly.’ I’m pleased when I see the hurt in his eyes. ‘What happened to the romantic weekend break you promised me?’
He takes a deep drag of his cigarette before answering. ‘It was only an idea. But Beatrice said a party would be better.’
I bite back my anger. ‘This was Beatrice’s idea?’
He looks confused, as if worried he might say the wrong thing. ‘Well, yes. I wanted to take you away somewhere. But Beatrice said she’d already arranged a party, had already asked Nia. She’d spent a lot of money on the catering and the wine.’
My whole body tenses. ‘And you didn’t think to tell her that I specifically told you that I didn’t want a fucking party?’ I snarl. I carefully enunciate each word to make my point.
He’s taken aback. ‘I did … But she, quite rightly, pointed out that you love parties. That you’d be happy to see Nia. I thought …’ He looks at me helplessly and I know it’s not his fault. I’m well aware of how manipulative Beatrice can be. Although I wish that, for once, he would put me first instead of always worrying about offending his precious sister. I take a deep breath but I’m unable, or unwilling, to stop the harangue that emerges. ‘Why can’t you see what she’s doing?’ I cry. ‘She doesn’t give a shit about me, this was her way of preventing us spending the weekend together. Without her. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, Ben. Why can’t you see that?’
I turn to storm off but he grabs my upper arm, forcing me back roughly as if I’m a dog on a retractable lead, his fingers digging into my skin. His face is pinched, white and inches from mine. ‘She did this for you, Abi,’ he spits. ‘She organized all this for you, even finding out the number of your oldest friend so she could invite her too. And all you can do is bitch about her.’
‘Get. Off. Me,’ I hiss between clenched teeth. He releases his grip, shock registering on his face at his actions.
‘I’m sorry, Abi. I’m so sorry.’
‘Fuck off, Ben.’ I push my way through the crowd, tears blurring my vision, faintly aware of Nia breaking away from Beatrice to follow me as I run from the room.
Beatrice has a clear view of them through the open doorway, Abi in her usual jeans and T-shirt, face pinched in agitation, Ben stooped so that his face is level with hers, his eyes narrowed in anger, the spittle flying from his mouth. Beatrice recognizes the expression on his face, the anger. She knows how Ben hates to lose control.
Next to her she senses Nia stiffen. ‘Are they having a row?’ Nia shouts over the music, concern etched across her pretty face. ‘I thought this might happen. Abi was hoping for a romantic weekend alone with Ben, not a party.’ Beatrice shrugs in an effort to appear nonchalant when inside her heart is pounding with glee. She’s unable to drag her eyes away from the scene unfolding on the balcony.
Ben is trying to stop Abi from leaving, but she pulls away from him and stumbles into the living room, her eyes wet, her face pale, pushing her way through the alcohol-fuelled crowd towards the door to the landing. ‘I’d better go after her,’ says Nia, handing her glass to Beatrice. She takes the glass wordlessly and watches as Nia darts after Abi.
She waits. One beat, two beats. And then she goes to him.
His face is set, impassive as she approaches. ‘Here,’ she hands him Nia’s untouched glass of champagne. ‘You look as though you could do with this.’ He takes it without a word, knocking back the contents in one gulp. You poor darling, she thinks. Being with Abi has brought it all back to you, hasn’t it? The past. What we’ve done. Because she can see that now. She can finally understand why he was attracted to Abi in the first place. A gust of wind blows her thin cotton dress around her thighs and she wishes she was wearing a cardigan.
‘You were right when you warned me that she’s damaged,’ he says eventually. ‘I didn’t understand how much. I do now.’
She pulls him to her in answer, wrapping her arms around him, wishing she could make the hurt go away. When he’s in pain, so is she. She rests her head on his chest, comforted by the steady beat of his heart which reverberates through his shirt. ‘She’s jealous of me,’ she says. ‘Because I’m your twin and she knows how special that is.’
He pulls away from her, rubs his hand across his chin. ‘I know.’
‘All this stuff she’s saying, Ben. About the letters, and the bird and that photograph. She thinks I’m trying to ruin your relationship. But you know it’s rubbish, don’t you? She’s ill, Ben. I don’t think she’s taking her medication – it was in her drawer when she was on the Isle of Wight. She should have taken it with her. She stole my earring, you saw it for yourself. There’s something else too.’
‘What?’ he asks wearily.
‘I think she saw me, that day when she was on the beach. She mentioned it in the kitchen, I didn’t know what to say …’
‘Okay, Bea,’ he snaps, and then he notices her stung expression and his voice is softer as he adds, ‘Look, she told me she thinks you’re moving her antidepressants.’
Beatrice takes a deep breath. ‘For goodness’ sake, Ben. You don’t believe her, do you?
‘Of