Twenty

The stalls of Borough Market yearned for company—hungry tourists, fresh from the Shard, were long gone. Alex checked Lucy’s whereabouts: yep, still lined up at the Pieminister stall, making faces at her and drooling over the Moo & Blue pie that would soon be hers. Alex pulled her phone from the pocket of her parka. No texts. No voicemails. Nothing. After last night’s drama, Mark had gone silent.

She dove into #MarkKeegan on Instagram. Someone had posted two photos from the BBQ she and Mark had attended last August in Greenwich—an industry-only get-together. No press had been invited as far as she could remember. So much for privacy.

Alex scrolled to the second photo. Ah, that top. Her lips loosened into a slight smile. The pink halter top, worn bra-less, was breezy and pretty—perfect for a warm summer evening. Paired with her purple diagonal-striped cotton skirt, she looked polished and presentable without trying too hard. Mark, fresh from filming Lairds season three, gave off a relaxed holiday vibe in a Bruno Mars concert tee, cargo shorts that barely hugged his hips, and a month’s worth of whiskers. He had arrived from Scotland an hour before, in town just for the weekend, and hadn’t yet reunited with a razor or event-appropriate trousers. His arm was slung around Alex’s shoulder as they chatted to another guest. They looked happy, picture perfect, albeit in Mark’s case, dressed more for the beach than an industry garden party in a posh London borough.

How had everything fallen apart only a few months later? There were certainly no hints, no cracks to be found in these photos. Alex’s finger swiped tentatively up the screen to see if any comments had been left…

Mark looks hawt, his date tho—NIPPLES! Too casual! Go home and change, bitch.

Doesn’t this girl realize who she’s with? Put in some effort.

Alex kicked the pavement with her Converse, ignoring the rest of the post. Now she was sad and insulted. God, I should have known…

Lucy danced towards her, proudly holding a box.

Alex tugged her hat down over her stringy, unwashed hair and the sore pimple in the middle of her forehead, so large, it was probably visible from space. Stress zits, yay! “You’re going to regret pulling a sickie when someone spots you. We should’ve stayed in.”

Lucy shoved her change purse into her cross-body bag, her Christmas gift from Alex. “My boss never ventures south of the Thames, so it’s all good.” She blew on her mini steak and Stilton pie, a spiral of steam rising above the pastry. “Are you sure you don’t want a grilled cheese? Brownies, cookies…you never say no to the cookies here!”

Alex shook her head.

“I feel bad, though, eating in front of you…”

“Don’t. I’m not hungry.” Alex stared at the Bread Ahead stall with its decadent orange and chocolate donuts.

“I’m sorry my plan to cheer you up with pricey plonk fell through. The Shards’ rule about no trainers is stupid as fuck.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think they even looked at my shoes. I look yuck. This”—Alex pointed at her face—“is all they needed to see: huge zit, puffy eyelids. I’m a total mutt. No dogs allowed.”

“You do have the dark eye circle thing going on, babe. Very Pug-like, but cute in a Frankenweenie kind of way.”

“You’re comparing me to a Franken-dog? Are you planning to shock me back to life, too?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes! And don’t diss Frankenweenie. He’s small, faithful, adorable—just like you.” Lucy nudged her friend, trying to raise a smile. “We’ll try the Shard another time. Harry says the view is really something, better than the London Eye.”

“New year, new Lucy. Listen to you…Harry says.”

“Erghh, what am I like? You don’t need me swooning.”

“Lucy, just because Mark and I have imploded doesn’t mean you can’t be excited about Harry. Talk about him. I love seeing you happy.”

Lucy bit into the chunky steak pie, closed her eyes, and chewed in silence until a large smile overtook her cheeks. “Oh, my God, that is soooo good. Look, give me a smack if I ramble on about him too much, okay? I don’t want to be one of those women who gets lost in her relationship.”

“Like me, you mean…”

“No! Well…kinda? Don’t hit me! I’ll drop my pie.”

“No, you’re right. I did lose myself a bit…everything revolved around him.”

“Yeah, Marlex…but with the life he leads, how could it not? It’s easier with Harry. Even if he’s busy, he’s here. Plus, he does exactly what I tell him to.” Lucy laughed and bit into her pie.

Alex admired the nearby stacks of boozy cheese wheels drawing in customers at the Drunk Cheese stall beside them. “There’s no denying it. Yoooooou liiiiiike Harry. Admit it!”

Lucy beamed. “I do. There, I said it! Any second now, I’m gonna burst into flames. I wish Gran were alive. She’d love him. She always hated my ex.”

“Yeah, Harry’s a good one.” Alex held up her hand like she was swearing a pledge. “My name is Alex Sinclair and I approve this relationship.” The phone buzzed in her other hand.

“That from Mark? He better pay for my door knocker.”

Alex nodded.

Lex, please text me. We need to talk. I love you. x

“Hmm, just the one text this time? He better not be on my doorstep again when we get back.” Lucy swallowed another bite of her pie. “If he is there, what’s the plan?”

“I think we should talk, but I’m afraid I’ll cry.” Alex and Lucy began to stroll towards the Middle Market entrance. “I want to have my shit together.”

“How long did you sit by the window last night?”

“An hour.”

“Did you see them leave?”

“Yeah…”

“An hour my arse.” Lucy pursed her lips. “I know you were sat there for at least three, Lex. The slamming car door woke me up, just gone two.”

“I wanted to make sure they were okay.”

“Personally, I don’t think Keegs deserves your concern. I would’ve been quite happy to let him freeze his balls off or get arrested by the cops, but I’m not you. It must be doing your head in, not running after him, but really, it’s the only way to see things clearly. You need to figure out what’s best for you—not him.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I can trust him, and I can’t forgive him…at least, not yet—”

“If at all,” said Lucy.

“The minute I do, I lose my self-respect, and taking him back makes me a hypocrite. But, if I dump him, I…honestly don’t know if I’ll ever get over him. It’s lose-lose.”

“Total clusterfuck. I still can’t believe this is Keegs we’re talking about. You think you know someone… He’s fooled all of us. Never trust the super-smiley ones—they’re always hiding something.” Lucy’s voice boomed. “I could have his guts for garters for what he’s done to you, the fucking lying cheating arsehole—”

Two stroller-pushing mums shot disapproving glares at Lucy.

“Oh, you know what might make you feel better? Revenge fantasies! Worked a treat when my ex dumped me. Look, I made you a list!” Lucy shoved her pie into Alex’s hands and dug her phone out of a pocket. She swiped a few times. “Okay—you could edit his Wiki page, say he had a secret porn star past? Or you could sell his precious signed football on eBay for a quid? Then we could puncture the tires on his stupid Vespa—”

“Damn, girl! God help Harry if he ever wrongs you!” A twinge in Alex’s chest took away her breath. “I wish I could be angry, but right now, I just feel…I feel empty, sick.”

“Oh, the anger’s coming. It’s only been twenty-four hours.” Lucy rescued her pie.

“Yeah, I know the drill; not my first time at the cheating rodeo, remember?”

Lucy wrapped an arm around her friend.

Alex looked sheepish. “Did my crying keep you up last night?”

Lucy smiled. “Nah, I was awake anyway. Too much adrenaline—and chocolate.” Her lips morphed into a devilish grin. “I wonder what the widow next door was thinking, though? Bonking noises one night, tears and drama the next. She spied through her curtains at Harry when he left yesterday. He said he gave her a cheeky wave.”

“She probably thinks she’s living beside a real-life Fifty Shades of Grey.” Alex glanced at the Spice Mountain stall. “Anyway, on that bombshell, I’ll get back to my flat tomorrow. You and Harry deserve some privacy—”

“Lex, there’s no need—”

“Lucy, I know…I know what you did yesterday.”

“What?” Lucy juggled her phone and half-eaten pie. “You saw it?”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t snooping…”

“That’s embarrassing! I told Harry to put it away—”

“Put? What? Wait…oh, God, NO, don’t tell me!” Alex covered her ears, her eyes scrunched.

“Good, ’cause I’d rather I didn’t have to.” Lucy laughed. “Hey, it’s been a while. I’ve got needs, what can I say?”

“And I’m happy you’re satisfying them!” Alex chuckled as they exited the market. “We’re obviously talking about different things. I saw Harry’s text last night, the ‘Wish you were here’ one? Your phone lit up beside me when you were in the kitchen. You said Harry didn’t invite you to that family dinner, but he did, didn’t he? And you skipped it—for me.”

“Yeah, that’s me, completely selfless.”

“You are.”

“Oh, please! If you want to know the real reason…” Lucy popped the last morsel between her lips. “I…” She mumbled through a mouthful, holding her finger aloft. “…didn’t fancy meeting the parents with a brain-crushing hang.”

“I know you’ve already met them. I read the whole text, Lucy. His dad? Disappointed that he didn’t see you again? And Harry got all mushy. He said he was lucky to be dating a woman who wouldn’t dump her heartbroken BFF for some ‘overpriced crustaceans.’ Whatever that meant.”

“They were having lobster. It’s actually yummy. Who knew? Don’t hate me.”

“Lucy Hardy, going all posh. I’d only hate you if you served nothing but seafood at your wedding.”

“Woah, steady on. Cart, horse!”

“So, you have met his parents. When did that happen?”

“Christmas Eve.”

“What’s that—nine, ten weeks in? Wow. Mark made me wait almost two years.”

“I was shitting myself. Harry has never dated a black girl, and I figured they might have a problem, but his dad—I mean, Budgie—couldn’t have been kinder.”

“Budgie loves everyone,” said Alex.

“His mum was a bit Baltic at first, but we got talking, and she couldn’t apologize enough for the initial chill. She blamed Olivia. I’m the first girl Harry has brought home since, so she’s a bit overprotective, you know? After a few cocktails, she wouldn’t leave me alone! She invited me to tennis, she wants to see my drawings…Lex, she won’t stop texting me now. I might need a restraining order.”

“She knows a good soul when she meets one, can’t fault her for that.” Alex swallowed heavily as they walked along Southwark Street. “You know, I’ll never be able to thank you enough for the past two days. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t home.”

“And you’ll never have to find out. We’re family. I’m going nowhere.”

“Right back at ya.”

Lucy smiled. “Hey, want to circle back, get some donuts? My treat.”

“Still not hungry, but thanks.”

“Aw, I hate what he’s done to you.” Rihanna’s “Umbrella” burst from Lucy’s pocket. “Fuck.”

“Is that your boss?”

“Shit. I can’t take this here…traffic noise.” Lucy looked back towards Borough Market. “I’ll let it go to voicemail and call back from the market. It’s quieter there. You okay for a minute?”

“Yep.”

Lucy rushed back up the street.

Alex walked a little farther and gasped, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Mark’s face, unsmiling and stern, stared at her from a poster-size bus shelter advertisement. Lairds and Liars was returning to TV for its third season next month. Branded underneath Mark’s stubbly chin, four white letters—LIAR.

Her pocket buzzed. Speak of the devil… Mouse, please check your email. Love you. x

She waited a few seconds. Lucy’s still gone, right? She jabbed her email icon.

“Fuck it.”

Alex jumped. Had Lucy seen the email?

“I didn’t need this today.” Lucy inhaled deeply, her eyes wide.

“Huh?”

“I swear I could hear the veins popping in his neck from his voicemail.”

“Oh…your boss?” Alex breathed easier. “He knows you’re playing hooky?”

“Don’t think so, but I was supposed to launch the New Year’s ‘eating well’ initiative on social media today! It completely slipped my mind.” Lucy grabbed her hair at the temples. “I have to post it before six tonight or I’ll be in deep shit. Can we head back?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex started walking towards London Bridge Tube station.

“Thank God my call went straight to his voicemail,” said Lucy. “If I’m lucky he’ll believe I’m tucked up in bed with a fever and The Chase on TV.”

• • •

Alex crawled into bed, nesting with Charlie’s overstuffed duvet and her laptop. It was only half past five, but Lucy was busy downstairs on her computer, tweeting the nutritional merits of “rainbow super bowl salads” and coconut porridge, so Alex took advantage of the alone time. She put in her earbuds, hit play on her iPod, and opened Mark’s email again.

She glared at the screen and punched a pillow. Great! An insider’s guide to Mark and that bitch fucking their way through high school? NOT HELPING! She slapped the screen of her laptop closed and dissolved into the pillows, determined not to cry.