The Book of You. Claire Kendal

      ‘Very much,’ you say.

      ‘Did he tell you about this morning? When he was waiting outside my house? When the taxi driver had to threaten him with the police? When he knew I didn’t want him to be there?’

      You are shaking your head in a pantomime of how wounded and misunderstood you are. Your performance is clear even through the murky vapour of this awful room. ‘Clarissa,’ you say. ‘Oh, Clarissa. How could you think this way?’

      I can barely stop myself from dashing your face with iced water from the nearby jug.

      Rowena touches your arm. ‘Rafe’s concerned about you. That’s why I came down.’

      The irony isn’t lost on me that it’s only because of you that she got in touch after two years of silence.

      She is regarding me with disappointment. ‘He told me you haven’t been yourself lately. That you’ve been acting strange at work. I asked him to keep an eye on you until I could get here. I never dreamed you’d be so unkind to him.’

      A vein throbs in my forehead as I fully grasp how much trouble you took to set this up, how much time you spent plotting and manipulating, how much advance planning you did, how much patience and discipline you exerted over yourself in waiting for tonight. Rowena was the ideal target for you. She is visibly injured, her vulnerability and desperation carved into her new breasts and face. You groomed her. You totally manoeuvred her. You actually charmed her.

       If you have friends in common he may turn them against you by dismissing your worries or claiming you behaved unreasonably to him.

      It’s as if you’ve read the anti-stalker leaflets too, and you’re using all of their advice against me. We have no friends in common so you went and made Rowena into one.

      My throat is tight but my vision is clearing. ‘That’s not how it was.’

      You’re smirking now, enjoying yourself: two women fighting about you. You’ve put me in a position where I have to talk to you and look at you and pay attention to you. Already you’ve forced me to break the resolution of silence that I made only this morning.

      ‘You can’t not believe me, Rowena.’ If my own friend trusts your story over mine, if she actually thinks you’re plausible, then there’s no hope that the police will ever take me seriously. There’s no hope for Miss Lockyer either.

      You are sucking on an olive, watching me. You take the stone out of your mouth slowly, sensuously. There’s a sheen of oil on your lips. It makes me shudder and I tear my eyes away, wishing my vision hadn’t snapped into this new hyper-acuteness.

      Rowena pats my hand lightly. ‘Let’s change the subject, Clarissa, and put the evening back on track. You’ve always encouraged me to be creative, and Rafe’s got me started on writing about my childhood. I thought you’d be pleased. I told him the things we used to get up to when we were teenagers. I’ve been writing about when that girl beat you up on the seafront. Remember how horrible that policewoman was to you, afterwards?’

      There’s a hot radiator on the wall behind me but I’m shivering in my wool dress. Goose bumps are springing up on my arms. The person I least want to be exposed to now knows every detail of the story I least want to tell. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

      Rowena’s too excited to notice. ‘It’s all in the explicitness – that’s what Rafe’s getting out of me. Remember how I got you home and cleaned you up?’

      ‘I do,’ I say quietly. ‘Nobody could have helped me like you did.’

      ‘It’s a great story. Clarissa will be proud of you when she reads it.’

      I’d kick you under the table but I don’t want to touch you even with my boot and I’m not about to let you prove to Rowena that I’m unbalanced. To my amazement, you stand up. For a second of reckless hope I actually think you’re going to leave. But of course you’re not. You’re just going to the bar.

      I’m on my feet, ready to walk out, but almost immediately I sit down again. I couldn’t abandon my worst enemy to you, let alone my oldest friend, though right now Rowena is acting more like the first than the second. Whatever Rowena may be, I am my parents’ daughter; they taught me too well the importance of loyalty to friends and family, even when – especially when – that loyalty is tested. The Rowena I loved must still be in there, though right now she’s buried so deep I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to find her again, or if I even want to try.

      It’s as if she gave you a tour of my underwear drawer. But I know I need to sound calm if I’m to have any chance of getting through to her. ‘I don’t want you talking about me to him. Please don’t.’

      ‘It’s my story. You just happen to be in it. You have no right to dictate to me.’

      ‘You may want him here, but I don’t. I’ve made that clear. Any normal man would respect my wishes. Don’t you see that?’

      She doesn’t answer. For an instant I think she does see it. Rowena’s ears always redden when she’s upset and that’s what they’re doing now. Their heightened colour makes me notice the scars just in front of them, and I look away so she doesn’t see me seeing.

      ‘He tricked me into coming here. He knew I never would if you told me he was joining us. Don’t you think it’s odd that he asked you to keep it a secret?’

      She hesitates, considering, but she wrestles with whatever doubts she may be starting to have about you and spits out the word ‘No’.

      I don’t want to say what comes out of my mouth next, but I know I must. ‘He’s not interested in you at all.’

      Rowena’s lips curl into disbelieving rage. ‘Not every man on the planet’s in love with you. You can’t take them all.’ Perhaps she has guessed the truth about Henry. Maybe you actually told her. You probably just let it slip out casually while talking about something else. That’s exactly the sort of thing you’d do.

      ‘What he does isn’t love. It’s the opposite of love.’ I’m speaking gently, softly, as tenderly as I can. ‘It’s as if he’s trying to steal me. And now he’s stealing you from me.’

      ‘I’m not yours to steal. You haven’t been real with me in years. You’re so full of secrets I hardly know you any more. Don’t you realise how much that hurt me?’ Her voice cracks at the last sentence.

      I put my hand over hers, moved by this glimpse of the old Rowena’s need for me. ‘I know. And I regret that. But right now I’m trying to stop you getting hurt. That’s the only reason I’m sitting here when all I want is to run out that door. He knows that. That’s why he set this up.’

      She rips her hand away. ‘How very generous and selfless of you.’ Her voice is cold, clipped. ‘You don’t want him. So leave him to me.’

      ‘He’s dangerous. He’s making my life hell. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s a hard thing for me to trust anyone with. I’d call the police on him this minute but you wouldn’t back me up if I did, would you?’

      ‘You’re being hysterical. He’s an invited guest. I actually think you’re sick. I’ve got to know him well.’

      ‘You’ve no idea what he’s like. He’s just using you to spy on me.’

      ‘You’re the most egotistical woman I’ve ever known.’

      Already you’re back and so is your smirk. ‘Peach Bellinis,’ you announce proudly. ‘Tonight’s special. The bartender here is great. That’s why I suggested this place.’

      Rowena lights up again. ‘I adore Bellinis.’ She truly does like you.

      I try to see you as Rowena does. Henry thought you were a buffoon, but he admitted that students sometimes got crushes on you.