‘I doubt there’ll be anyone there who’s under forty,’ I tell Jasmine as we lean forward to select colour-coded dishes from the revolving belt. ‘But we can head back early after the pub, if you want.’
‘I love your mum and dad to bits, God bless them,’ Jasmine says, turning heads with her hoarse Brummie accent, ‘but to be honest, this is more my scene.’ She gestures to the sharply dressed young professionals around us, and raises her voice above the din of their chatter. ‘I’d rather stay in the pub than go back to the house, if that’s all right. Posh parties like that terrify me. What if I end up stuck next to some toffee-nosed ambassador? I wouldn’t have a clue what to say.’
Dominic grins, pouring soy sauce over yellowtail sushi. ‘You could always tell him about your love of stock car racing,’ he suggests lightly, and she giggles.
After dinner, we take a taxi to meet his colleagues at a pub called The Ship and Shovell, near Victoria Embankment. Louise’s choice, apparently, because it does good ales. We have to stand outside at a barrel table, as the pub is packed with festive drinkers.
I wish I could sit because my ankle aches. First day without the walking stick I’ve been using to replace the crutches that have gone back to the hospital. But I don’t want to spoil the evening by mentioning it.
‘You okay?’ Dominic says in my ear.
‘Never better,’ I lie.
He examines my face. ‘Back in a minute,’ he says suddenly, and disappears into the pub.
His colleagues emerge a moment later. Louise is carrying a tray of drinks, and Sally has bought several bags of peanuts. I wave my hand until they spot us and head in our direction. Louise is walking awkwardly in heels that look new.
‘Merry Christmas,’ she says, putting the tray down. ‘I hope I got everyone’s order right.’
Sally dumps the bags of peanuts on the table too, and then tucks a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. ‘Nuts, anyone?’
‘Me,’ Jasmine says, and helps Louise tear open the bags of peanuts for sharing.
Sally’s phone rings and she turns away to answer it.
Louise watches Sally anxiously as though worried they are going to be called back to St Hilda’s for some major emergency. I hope not, watching Sally, too. This is Dominic’s first night off in ages. I don’t know how he wrangled it but maybe he had to promise extra overtime later this week.
But Sally is laughing, her head back, chatting with whoever it is in a relaxed way. Not a work call, thank God.
‘So, we didn’t have much of a chance to talk before. How have you been since the wedding?’ I ask Jasmine, raising my voice to be heard above the revellers and the sound of constant traffic.
‘Not too bad, thanks.’ She hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder at the pub. No sign of Dominic returning yet. ‘By the way, about that postcard . . .’
I feel suddenly cold, and not just because of the chill December air. ‘The postcard supposedly from Rachel?’
‘Yeah.’ She looks unhappy. ‘I’m so sorry about that. I felt really bad afterwards.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mentioning something like that to you on your wedding day.’ Jasmine makes a face. ‘Your mum rang me later, tore a strip off me.’
I’m confused. I don’t remember mentioning the postcard to Mum at the time. So how did she know about it? Dominic probably told her, I realise. He’s so overprotective, always looking out for me – even when I don’t need him to. They all are, in fact. It’s like being suffocated in cotton wool.
‘If I’d known . . . ’ Jasmine says.
‘Known what?’
She opens her mouth, then closes it again and shakes her head.
‘Jasmine?’
‘Nothing,’ she says abruptly. ‘Forget it.’
‘No, I want to know. If you’d known what?’ When she still doesn’t say anything, I lean in closer, meeting her worried gaze. ‘Please, Jasmine. This is important. What exactly did Mum tell you?’
‘Look, I’m sorry. She asked me not to say.’
‘Not to say what?’
I don’t mean to, but I’ve raised my voice.
Dominic comes up behind us unnoticed and puts a bar stool down next to the barrel. ‘There you go,’ he says to me. ‘Now you can sit down.’
‘Darling, that’s so thoughtful of you,’ I say, and perch on the bar stool with relief. My ankle feels less painful immediately. ‘That’s much better, thank you.’
‘You okay?’
‘Fine, thanks.’
‘So,’ Dominic says lightly, standing opposite and glancing at us both in turn, ‘I feel like I just interrupted something. Who asked you not to say what, Jasmine?’ His smile is steady but it still worries me. I know what he’s like when he thinks I’m hiding something from him. ‘Family secrets?’ he adds. ‘I’m one of the family now, you know. I get to hear about all those skeletons in the closet.’
Jasmine looks at me, her eyes wide and apprehensive.
‘Girl talk,’ I tell him quickly.
‘Hey, Dom, what do you think of this?’ Sally waves him over to see something on her smartphone that she and Louise have been laughing over.
Reluctantly, he turns to his boss. ‘What do I think of what?’
Jasmine mouths, ‘Sorry,’ to me behind his back.
I smile and take another sip of my white wine. I don’t want to drink too much. I’m already a little woozy and it could be a long night. As I put the glass down again, my gaze moves to Sally. She’s put the smartphone away, but is still looking at Dominic, a secret little smile on her face.
Taken aback, I flick a quick glance at Dominic, and he’s looking at Sally, too.
Also smiling.
A splinter of pain enters my heart.
It’s only a look, I tell myself. And indeed, a split second later Sally turns away to talk to Louise. Dominic returns to me and Jasmine, who is telling an anecdote about her mum and a pot of soft cheese, though I haven’t really been listening. Dominic grins at my cousin, adding something to the story. A flippant remark that makes Jasmine burst out laughing.
I laugh too, mechanically. But I’m still only half listening, agonisingly aware of the beating of my heart, deafening to my ears.
His boss.
God, he wouldn’t, surely?
We only just got bloody married. It makes no sense that he’d be playing around behind my back. Yet that look between them . . . what else could it mean?
Perhaps it’s a silly thing from the past. A one-night stand with his manager that he omitted to mention, long before I came along. I can’t hold something like that against him.
All the same, Dominic’s my husband now. He shouldn’t be looking at another woman like that – with that peculiarly intimate smile on his lips. It hurts just to remember it.
My hands curl into fists. Dominic’s been so demanding in bed lately. Almost brutal at times. I’ve been pretending I haven’t noticed the change. But I can’t keep hiding from the likeliest reason for this change in behaviour: I’m not exciting enough for him.
But Sally is?
I feel sick, and have to look away, struggling to breathe normally.
‘You okay?’ Jasmine asks.
Now Dominic turns to look at me. Louise and Sally, too.
Louise is concerned. ‘Cat, what is it?’
I fix them with my brightest smile, even though my heart feels like it’s breaking. ‘Nothing. It’s just my ankle. You know, the odd twinge.’
‘Ouch.’ Louise pulls a sympathetic face. ‘Poor you. And at Christmas too.’ She drains her glass of ale. ‘I should have given you a call when Dom told me. I feel bad about that. But it’s been so hectic at work. You sure you’re okay?’
‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ I say.
‘Let me get this straight,’ Jasmine says. ‘You fell down the cellar steps?’
‘That’s right.’
Sally is watching me now. Her smile is knowing. As if she thinks I’m one of those stupid, clumsy people who spend their lives getting into one scrape after another. ‘Head better now too?’
I manage a nod, remembering how friendly she was at the hospital that night, waving goodbye as the taxi pulled away. ‘All sorted.’
‘Kasia was telling me all about it this morning.’ Jasmine looks perplexed. ‘She said you thought you heard an intruder.’
‘A cat.’
Her eyebrows shoot up. ‘A cat? A cat in the cellar?’ She frowns. ‘Hold on, you don’t have a cat.’