‘Who else knows? Who have you told, Louise?’
Despite the music, he’s speaking quietly, so close that I can smell his slightly sour breath, see the pores in his skin.
‘I don’t know who knows… I haven’t told anyone, but maybe Sophie did, back then…’
‘We were all involved, Louise, and somebody knows. Think. Who have you told? Who else might know what we did?’
‘I swear, I’ve never told anyone about what really happened. God, I don’t want it to come out any more than you do. I was the one that… you know… you didn’t do anything…’
‘Where do you think Sophie got the stuff from?’ he hisses.
‘Sam got it, didn’t he?’
‘From me! That’s where he got all his stuff!’ For a second I think he’s going to hit me, but he takes a breath, unclenches his fists. ‘Look, my life hasn’t worked out the way I planned, OK? I messed up a lot of things, but I’ve got a new partner now, she has kids, they live with us. I’ve turned things around. I just don’t want anything to fuck that up, OK? Not only did I get the stuff, I lied to the police. It doesn’t look good, Louise.’
‘I lied too. We all did.’ I take a gulp of wine to try and wash away the bad taste in my mouth.
‘Right. And we’re going to continue lying, all of us. Whatever happens. Is that clear?’
‘Yes,’ I whisper, barely trusting myself to speak. I suppose I am as selfish as him – I don’t want the truth to come out any more than he does, after all – but his ruthless disregard for the horror of what we did turns my stomach. How can he be back here and not feel some of the shame and distress that suffuse me?
‘And if you get any more of these messages, I want to know. OK? Here’s my number.’ He scribbles it down on a piece of paper and shoves it into my hand. I put it carefully into my handbag, although I have no intention of ringing him, or of telling him about the other messages. I just want this encounter to be over.
‘OK.’ He seems satisfied, and with a surge of thankfulness I see Lorna finally making her way back to me, a brimming wine glass in each hand. Matt spies her too and makes his escape. I thought it was just me that couldn’t leave the past behind but it appears I’m not the only one. Just before Lorna reaches me, Sophie bowls over, arms outstretched.
‘Louise!’ she coos, her fingers pressing into the soft flesh of my forearm. She’s very drunk, I realise with a twinge of something that feels like fear. In vino veritas. Lorna hands me my wine and smiles at Sophie, who doesn’t even acknowledge her. Lorna shrugs and says she’ll see me later, rolling her eyes at me behind Sophie’s back as she walks off, as if to say, she hasn’t changed.
‘Where’s Pete?’ I ask. Typical of Sophie to invite a near-stranger to an event where he knows nobody and then abandon him.
‘Oh, I don’t know, somewhere around.’
‘So you told Matt about the friend request. You might have checked with me first.’ I must be drunk myself, standing up to Sophie like this.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry. Was Matt angry?’
I wasn’t expecting contrition and it throws me. ‘A bit, but don’t worry about it. You haven’t told anyone else, have you?’
She looks guilty. ‘Only Sam.’
‘Sam knows? When did you tell him? Tonight?’
‘Yes,’ she says quickly. ‘Well, no actually. I phoned him the other day, after you came to see me.’
‘You phoned him? Why? How did you even have his number?’ The old jealousy rises in my throat, stifling me.
She sighs impatiently. ‘Does it matter? I messaged him on Facebook to ask for his number.’
‘But why did you want to talk to him about it?’
A strange look passes over her face.
‘He was involved, wasn’t he?’ she says quickly. ‘He got us the E. I thought he might have had the same message.’
‘And had he?’ I say, my head spinning. Why didn’t Sam mention this when I dropped Henry off the other day? That must have been why he was weird, asking me if I was OK. And why didn’t he say anything when I spoke to him earlier tonight?
‘No, he hasn’t had anything. Oh God, Louise, what are we going to do? Who’s doing this?’ I wasn’t expecting this panic from her. In vino veritas indeed.
‘I don’t know. Have you had any messages from Maria? Since she friend-requested you?’
‘Two.’ Her eyes are huge, like a Disney princess.
‘What did they say?’
‘I had one not long after the friend request that just said “Still looking good, Sophie”. And then another one this morning.’
‘What did it say?’
‘It just said “See you at the reunion, Sophie Hannigan”. I mean, it’s a message that anyone could have sent. Nothing scary about it, except that it’s from her.’ Her voice is a whisper and there is real fear in it. ‘Oh God, Louise, what shall we do?’
‘Why didn’t you say all this when I came to your flat? Why did you act like it wasn’t a problem?’ My cheeks are flushed; she made me feel so foolish for being upset about the Facebook request from Maria.
‘I’ve tried not to think about it. What we did… I know it was wrong. And we all lied too, didn’t we? We lied to the police. But maybe it wasn’t all our fault?’ She’s pleading with me now. ‘I mean, who knows what really happened? There was all sorts going on that night.’
‘What do you mean?’
She just shakes her head and repeats, ‘All sorts.’
I’m going to press her when Pete appears at her side.
‘Oh, there you are,’ she says vaguely, looking around, anywhere but at him.
‘Yes, here I am,’ he says, voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘I can see you’ve been worried.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, you don’t need to follow me round like a… like a fucking puppy. Just fucking grow a pair.’
She flounces off, stumbling on her heels, making a beeline for Sam on the other side of the hall.
Pete’s face is transformed, pale and angry. ‘Nice friends you’ve got.’
‘You’re the one who’s on a date with her,’ I say crossly. There’s a beat of silence and then we both start to laugh. It’s as if all the tension bound up in the evening has been released in one steady stream of pure mirth, which goes on and on, longer than the joke requires, until gradually we stop, gasping, him pinching the bridge of his nose, me wiping mascara from under my eyes.
‘So I guess there’s not going to be a fourth date?’ I say, when I can speak again.
‘Oh yes, I thought I might take her to a wedding next. She can meet my parents, I can show her off to all my friends.’
‘Sounds delightful. Or how about a work do, something to impress your colleagues?’
‘Ooh great idea. I can tell them all about her job in “fashion”.’ He does ironic quote marks with his fingers.
‘What do you mean? She does work in fashion, doesn’t she?’