I lead the rest of the way.
I have to: nobody else knows where we’re going. And even if they did know where we were going, they wouldn’t know how to get there. I’m the only one with that magical knowledge, thanks to a party eight years ago that Nat missed because she was having her tonsils out. The first and last party I ever went to without her. Although I haven’t exactly been wading through solo invitations.
“Right,” I say nervously as we get to a large front gate and I click the latch. “Just let me do all the talking.”
“Harriet,” Nat says crossly as we walk up the garden path. “Where the hell are we? And when do you ever not do all the talking?”
I know I’m supposed to be making peace with her, but with comments like that she is making it very difficult.
“You think I don’t know what friendship is, Nat,” I say, lifting up the knocker and letting it fall noisily. “But you’re wrong. And I know how to be honest too.” I lift it again and let it fall. “I just forgot for a little while, that’s all. And now I’m going to prove it to you.”
Slowly, with an ominous creak and a struggle – and some mild swearing – the front door opens.
And there, with a very surprised look on her face, is Alexa.
f you guessed this is where I was coming then your mind clearly works just like mine does. In a linear and sensible and yet simultaneously creative and poetic fashion.
Nat and Toby’s minds, however, obviously don’t. Their mouths have fallen open in perfect coordination with Alexa’s.
“This,” Nat says clearly behind me, “tops the list of most stupid things you’ve ever done, Harriet. That’s a pretty huge achievement.”
“Harriet,” Toby stage-whispers, “did you know Alexa Roberts lives here? What were the chances?”
I clear my throat. Alexa’s face is going through emotions the way Annabel flicks through channels on advert breaks: shock, followed by incredulity, and then a long moment spent on anger and a brief glimpse of embarrassment. And for a few fragments of time I almost see… respect. Respect for my audacity. On second thoughts, no. It’s not respect.
It’s a reaction to the smell of Toby’s powerful aftershave: the wind’s blowing it straight into the house.
“Alexa,” I say and I take a deep breath. I’m not absolutely certain what I’m going to say, even though I’ve been thinking about it all the way here. I just know that – whatever it is – it has to be perfect and it has to fix everything.
No pressure then.
“Harriet,” Alexa says, beaming at us. “Natalie. Toby. What a pleasant surprise. Would you like to come in for a cup of Darjeeling tea? My mum’s just bought a new box of Bakewell tarts and there’s plenty to go round.”
My deep breath rushes out of me all in one go. “Huh?” I say in confusion. “What? Seriously?”
Nat puts her head in her hands.
“Sure,” Alexa says, folding her arms in front of her. “We can all sit in the living room and discuss the likelihood of a white Christmas.”
“Really?”
The beam disappears. “No, not really, you moron. I have no idea what you’re doing here and I don’t care. Get off my doorstep before I set the dogs on you.”
Toby takes a few steps backwards. Admittedly, I can’t hear any dogs, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any; they might just be really quiet ones.
I bite my bottom lip hard. “Not until I’ve said what I need to say.”
Alexa’s frown deepens and she starts making a whistling sound. “Rex? Fang? Come here, boys. It’s geeks for tea.”
Nat breathes out loudly and tugs at my arm. “OK, Harriet. You’ve made your point, you’re risking your own safety to defend me, you’re very brave, I love you again, now let’s drop it and go home, all right?”
“No.” I fold my arms, partly to look determined and partly because my hands are shaking with nerves. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until I’ve told her.”
“Told me what?” Alexa stops whistling and her eyes narrow. “You’re standing there like the three little pigs on my doorstep so that you can tell me what?”
There’s a long silence while I look at her, my brain making whirring sounds. The Three Little Pigs. And their three little houses. One made out of straw, one made out of wood and one made out of brick. That’s it.
I’m going to tell Alexa that if we’re the three little pigs, then it’s OK because there are three of us, and we’re not in a house of straw, we’re in a house of brick. So she can huff and puff as much as she likes, but she can’t blow us down.