Joanne Sefton Book 2. Joanne Sefton

of people.’

      ‘I bet it doesn’t always feel that way, though.’

      ‘No. It doesn’t.’ Karen’s deep inhalation signalled the end of that part of the conversation. ‘But what about you, Misty? Are you still with … Estabio?’

      ‘Eusebio. Yes. He’s just got back from a trip or he would have come along. I’m afraid Andrew was rather free with his invitations.’

      ‘And now he’s disappeared. It’s almost like he’s trying to be a very unsubtle matchmaker. So, are you married?’

      ‘No. I used to say “not yet”, but I think I’m probably safe to stick with “no”.’ She struggled to find a label for Eusebio. They were too old to be boyfriend and girlfriend, and she disliked the word ‘partner’. They had no children and his work took him back to South America for weeks on end. Most of her friends struggled a little to compute their relationship. In the scheme of things, Karen’s reasonable attempt at his name counted as a good effort. Her distraction had caused a pause in the conversation, which threatened to become awkward. Casting her mind about, she recalled the strange comment Andrew had made introducing them.

      ‘What did Andrew mean, about bringing you a ghost?’

      ‘Oh.’ Karen paused, flagging down a waitress to offer Misty some canapés. ‘You remember there was that terrorist incident on the tube a few weeks ago, the bomb that didn’t go off properly?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Well, there was a picture they were using in the news footage …’

      Misty knew exactly what she was going to say next. ‘The woman behind the girl in the burn mask …’

      Karen nodded, and there was a glow in her eyes that looked almost fevered. ‘You saw it too?’

      ‘Yes, I mean I saw the news report. I saw the resemblance.’

      Karen lowered her voice and grabbed Misty’s arm. ‘But what if it wasn’t just a resemblance? What if it actually was her? I mean, she could have chosen to disappear, couldn’t she? Even Andrew didn’t see the body.’

      There was something surreal about it. Karen was a woman of substance, able to gather all these people about her, in the beautiful gardens of her enviable villa. In the blink of eye, she’d changed entirely. Misty shifted uncomfortably.

      ‘Whoever was in that picture, it definitely wasn’t Alex.’

      The change that had fallen over Karen disappeared as though a veil had been lifted.

      ‘Of course, you’re right. My imagination is running away with me. You were always the practical one.’

      Misty let the remark pass, neither confirming or challenging it but choosing to take another canapé from a timely passing teenager instead.

      ‘So,’ continued Karen, apparently trying to steer the conversation back to something less controversial, ‘did you continue with medicine then?’

      ‘Yes, yes, I did.’

      ‘And do you still do it now?’

      ‘Yes. I’m a consultant. I run a clinic attached to a teaching hospital. It’s busy but rewarding. I can’t imagine doing anything else to be honest.’

      ‘That’s fantastic. Good for you. What sort of clinic is it? What do you specialise in?’

      ‘Eating disorders.’

      The colour drained from Karen’s face. ‘Is that meant to be some sort of joke?’

      ‘No, no. I … well, after what happened to Alex … I got interested, then I got involved. I wanted to make a difference. It’s not that surprising, is it?’

      Karen’s hostess smile had returned, more brittle than before. Misty sensed that it had taken her an effort to pull herself together. It seemed odd that she should be so shaken by Misty’s career choice, especially after all these years.

      ‘No … no, I suppose not. I guess I’ve just always tried to avoid the topic. I … I found it hard.’

      ‘I’m sure we both did. But people cope in different ways. And it’s not the best subject to be dwelling on when it’s your birthday. In fact, you don’t want to spend all your time stuck with me … Go on, I’ll find out where Andrew’s wandered off to. You should be chatting to all these people who have come to celebrate with you. I can tell you for free there wouldn’t be anything like this number turn up for me.’

      Karen muttered some pleasantry and then took Misty’s suggestion and walked away. Misty was startled by how dazed she seemed, almost shell-shocked. But then it was no light endeavour to organise this sort of extravaganza, never mind the shock of having Misty turn up unannounced.

       Chapter 10

       Karen

       1988

      Karen did not feel well.

      When she’d opened her eyes and squinted at the clock it had said 09:13. She’d pushed herself up and surprised herself with the ease of the movement. Apart from a slight headache she felt pretty good, even sprightly. She crossed the room and poured a glass of water at the sink in the corner. Catching sight of her reflection she grimaced – her eye make-up hadn’t survived as well as she had. As she sipped the water and set about repairing the damage, a sort of pride swelled inside her. Maybe she had a knack for this drinking thing. She’d matched Octavia drink for drink and here she was – practically good as new. It had been her and Alex’s last session drinking with the Valkyries as invited guests. In the next day or two they would find out whether they were going to be invited to initiation or told to sod off. Alex was a shoo-in, of course, but after last night, Karen had felt quietly confident.

      Except that had been four hours ago, and she was beginning to realise that she must still have been drunk. It had all unravelled when she’d gone to the buttery for a late breakfast and the sight of congealed fried eggs on the hotplate had prompted a green-gilled dash to the ladies. She had emerged to a posse of ‘concerned’ students waving toothpaste in her face and making barfing noises that emphatically failed to match the horrific sounds she’d been producing in the toilets minutes earlier.

      Hoping that some fresh air might help, she’d decided to leave college and found herself wandering along the Backs. An autumn mist hung heavy over the meadows, pierced by the stately gothic rooflines of the oldest and most prestigious colleges, as well as by the looming trees burnished with their autumn colours. Unfortunately, as she walked the hangover set in with increasing vengeance. She found a bench and slumped down, staring into the water and trying to work out whether she was hoping to be sick again or hoping not to.

      It would have been nice, she considered, with more than a touch of self-pity, to have a friend with her now. Before going down to the buttery, she’d tried Alex’s room and then, more reluctantly, gone to knock on Misty’s door too, but there was no answer from either of them. It was always possible that Alex was still comatose, but generally she was an early riser, even after a night on the tiles. Karen thought it was more likely that she and Misty were off doing something together. The uncomfortable twisting in her stomach intensified at the thought.

      Envy shot through Karen’s friendships like the streamers of green weed fluttering in the water at her feet. It had always been that way. It wasn’t edifying, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t shake a profound dissatisfaction with her life that seemed so predictable and pedestrian. She envied Misty’s authenticity: the way she could speak about music or politics and everyone would listen and nod appreciatively, because she came from the north and her dad worked in a factory and had even been the dole. On top of that, Misty was attractive, in that sort of disarming way that people