‘What?’
But suddenly I couldn’t say it. The feeling of nakedness was back, and I only shook my head and turned away, pulling on my socks.
What I had been about to say, before I lost my nerve, was: how much did James know about it? Had he gone along with this plan?
‘We can go,’ Nina said conversationally as she buttoned up her own jeans and stood up to stretch, all six-foot-one of her. ‘We could drive off into the sunset and leave Clare and Flo to the crazy together.’
‘And Tom.’
‘Oh, yeah, and Tom.’
‘We could, couldn’t we …’ It was an enticing picture and I thought about it for a minute as Nina began brushing her hair.
But we couldn’t. I knew that really. Or rather I couldn’t.
If I’d said no, before I even got here, that would have been one thing. But backing out now, halfway though the hen – there was only one interpretation. I could imagine them all speculating about it after I was gone: poor Nora, poor cow, she’s so screwed up over James, she ruined Clare’s hen because she couldn’t be happy for her.
And worst of all – would know. I could see it now, the two of them in their perfect flat in London, curled up in bed together, Clare sighing with concern over me. I’m worried James, it’s like she’s never got over you.
And he – and he –
I found my hands were clenched into fists, and Nina was looking at me curiously. I had to consciously relax them, and I gave a little, false-sounding laugh.
‘If only – right? But we can’t. It would be too much of a fuck you in the aftermath of Melanie leaving.’
Nina looked at me, long and hard, and then shook her head.
‘All right. I think you’re kind of masochistic. But all right.’
‘We’ve only got one more night.’ I was convincing myself now. ‘I can take one more night.’
‘All right. One more night it is.’
13
IF ONLY. If only I had gone then.
I wish I could sleep, but I can’t, even with the soft click and whirr of the morphine driver. Instead I lie awake, listening to the voices in the corridor, the policeman and woman discussing in low voices what has happened, and that one word reverberates inside my head: Murder. Murder. Murder.
Can it be true? Can it possibly be true?
Who is dead?
Clare? Flo? Nina?
My heart stops at that. Not Nina. Not beautiful, brash, vibrant Nina. Please …
I must remember. I must try to remember what happened next. I know that come daybreak they will come in here and ask me questions. They’re waiting outside for me to wake up, waiting to talk to me.
I must have my version of events straight by then.
But what did happen next? The events of that day swirl and pound inside my head, mixing themselves up, tangling themselves together, the truth with the lies. I’ve only got a few hours left to try to sort it out.
Step by step, then. What happened next?
My hand goes to my shoulder, to the spreading bruise.
14
WHEN NINA AND I got downstairs Flo had stopped crying and cleaned herself up, and was eating toast and jam, evidently determined to pretend that nothing had happened.
‘Any coffee?’ Nina asked innocently, but I knew from her tone she was only needling.
Flo looked up miserably, and her lip wobbled again.
‘I … I forgot, remember? But I promise I’ll get some today when we go to the shooting range.’
‘What?’ We both stared at Flo, who gave a watery smile.
‘Yeah, I wanted it to be a surprise. We’re going clay-pigeon shooting.’
I gave a short, shocked laugh. Nina didn’t move.
‘Seriously?’
‘Of course. Why?’
‘Because … it’s just like … a hen night? Shooting?’
‘I thought it would be fun. My cousin went on his stag.’
‘Yes, but …’ Nina trailed off and I could see the thoughts running through her head as clearly as if they were written on her forehead in ticker tape: Why can’t we go to a bloody spa and then clubbing like normal people? But then again, she can’t possibly make us wear pink feather boas at a shooting range, right? So it could be worse.
I wondered, too, if she was thinking of Columbia. Of the gun shot wounds she’d treated there not so long ago.
‘Um … OK,’ she said at last.
‘They’re just like clay plates,’ Flo was saying earnestly. ‘So you don’t need to worry if you’re veggie or anti-blood sports.’
‘I’m not veggie.’
‘I know. But if you were.’
‘I’m not veggie.’ Nina rolled her eyes and made her way over to the bread bin, looking for more bread to toast.
‘I thought we’d have a spot of brunch here – with some games maybe? I’ve done a quiz!’
Nina winced theatrically.
‘And then we can head out after that. And come back here for drinks and curry.’