Twenties Girl

THIRTEEN

There’s only one possibility: They’re not rhinestones, they’re diamonds. The necklace is studded with rare antique diamonds and worth millions of pounds. It’s got to be that. There’s no other reason I can think of that Uncle Bill would be so interested in it.

I’ve Googled all sorts of websites on diamonds and jewelry, and it’s amazing what people will pay for a 10.5-carat D-color diamond mined in 1920.

“How big was the biggest stone in the necklace?” I say yet again to Sadie. “About.”

Sadie sighs noisily. “Half an inch or so?”

“Was it very sparkly? Did it look flawless at all? That could affect its value.”

“You’re terribly interested in the value of my necklace all of a sudden.” Sadie gives me a resentful look. “I didn’t think you were so mercenary.”

“I’m not mercenary!” I say indignantly. “I’m just trying to work out why Uncle Bill was after it! He wouldn’t waste his time unless it was valuable.”

“What difference does it make if we can’t lay our hands on it?”

“We will lay our hands on it.”

I have a plan, and it’s a pretty good one. I’ve been using all my detective skills in the few days since we got back from Uncle Bill’s house. First of all, I found out about Diamanté’s next Tutus and Pearls catwalk show. It’s this Thursday at the Sanderstead Hotel, 6:30 p.m., private guest list. The only trouble was, I couldn’t see Diamanté putting me on the private guest list in a million years, bearing in mind I’m not a photographer from Hello! or one of her celebrity chums or have four hundred quid to spend on a dress. So then came my master stroke. I emailed Sarah in a friendly way and said I’d really like to support Diamanté in her fashion venture and could I come and talk to Uncle Bill about it? Maybe I would just drop over to the house on spec, I suggested. Maybe tomorrow!!! And I added a few smiley faces for good measure.

Sarah immediately emailed back that Bill was a little busy right now and I shouldn’t come tomorrow, but she could talk to Diamanté’s personal assistant. And the next thing I knew, two tickets were biked to my door. Honestly, it’s so easy to get what you want from people if they think you’re a psycho.

The only downer is that the second and crucial part of my plan-talk to Diamanté and persuade her to give me the necklace straight after the show-has failed so far. Her assistant won’t tell me where she is or give me her mobile phone number. She did allegedly pass on a message, but obviously I haven’t heard anything. I mean, why would Diamanté bother to call her nonentity of a nonmillionaire cousin?

Sadie’s tried going to Diamanté’s office in Soho, to see if she can catch her and the necklace-but apparently Diamanté never sets foot there. It’s staffed by assistants, and all the clothes are made by some company in Shoreditch. So that’s no good.

There’s only one thing for it. I’m going to have to go along to the show, wait until it’s over, then grab Diamanté and somehow talk her there and then into giving the necklace to me.

Or, you know. Pinch it.

With a sigh, I close down the jewelry website and swivel around to survey Sadie. Today she’s wearing a silver dress which apparently she desperately wanted when she was twenty-one, but her mother wouldn’t buy it for her. She’s sitting on the sill of the open window, her feet dangling above the street below. The dress is backless except for two thin silver straps over her slender shoulders, and there’s a rosette at the small of her back. Of all the ghost dresses she’s worn, this is my favorite.

“The necklace would look amazing with that dress,” I say impulsively.

Sadie nods but doesn’t say anything. There’s a low-slung, dispirited cast to her shoulders, which isn’t exactly surprising. We were so near to it. We saw it. And then we lost it.

I watch her anxiously for a moment. I know Sadie hates “droning on about things.” But maybe she’d feel better if she talked. Just a little bit.

“Tell me again-why is the necklace so special to you?”

For a while Sadie says nothing, and I wonder if she even heard the question.

“I told you,” she says at last. “When I wore it, I felt beautiful. Like a goddess. Radiant.” She leans against the window frame. “You must have something in your wardrobe that makes you feel like that.”

“Er…” I hesitate.

I can’t honestly say I’ve ever felt like a goddess. Or particularly radiant, come to that.

As if she can read my thoughts, Sadie turns and surveys my jeans dubiously. “Maybe you don’t. You should try wearing something beautiful for a change.”

“These are nice jeans!” I pat them defensively. “Maybe they’re not beautiful, exactly-”

“They’re blue.” She’s regained her spirit by now and shoots me a scathing look. “Blue! The ugliest color in the rainbow. I see the whole world, walking around with hideous blue legs. Why blue?”

“Because…” I shrug, nonplussed. “Dunno.”

Kate has left the office early to go to the orthodondist, and all the phones are quiet. Maybe I’ll leave too. It’s nearly time, anyway. I glance at my watch and feel a shot of anticipation.

I adjust the pencil stuffed into my hair, stand up, and check over my outfit. Quirky printed T-shirt from Urban Outfitters. Cute little pendant of a frog. Jeans and ballet pumps. Not too much makeup. Perfect.

“So… I thought we could go for a walk, maybe,” I say super-casually to Sadie. “It’s such a nice day.”

“A walk?” She peers at me. “What kind of walk?”

“Just… a walk!” Before she can say any more, I close down my computer, set the office answering machine, and grab my bag. Now that my plan is about to come to fruition, I’m quite excited.

It only takes twenty minutes to get to Farringdon, and as I hurry up the tube steps I glance at my watch-5:45. Perfect.

“What are we doing?” Sadie’s suspicious voice follows me. “I thought you said we were going for a walk.”

“We are. Kind of.”

I half wish I’d ditched Sadie. The trouble is, I think I might need her in reserve if things get tricky. I head to the corner of the main road and pause.

“What are you waiting for?”

“No one,” I say, a little too defensively. “I’m not waiting for anyone. I’m just… hanging out. Watching the world go by.” I lean casually against a pillar-box to prove my point, then hastily move away as a woman approaches to post a letter.

Sadie appears in front of me and scans my face, then suddenly inhales as she sees the book in my hand. “I know what you’re doing! You’re trailing! You’re waiting for Josh! Aren’t you?”

“I’m taking control of my life.” I avoid her eye. “I’m showing him I’ve changed. When he sees me, he’ll realize his mistake. You wait.”

“This is a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea.”

“It’s not. Shut up.” I check my reflection and apply more lip gloss, then blot it off.

I’m not going to listen to a word Sadie says. I’m totally psyched and ready to go. I feel empowered. All those times I tried to get inside Josh’s head, all those times I tried to ask him what he really wanted out of our relationship, he kept batting me away. But now, finally, I know what he wants! I know how to make things work!

Ever since that lunch, I’ve totally transformed myself. I’ve kept the bathroom tidy. I’ve stopped singing in the shower. I’ve made a resolution never to mention anyone else’s relationship, ever. I’ve even looked at that William Eggleston photography book, but I think it would seem a bit of a coincidence to be actually holding it. Which is why I’m clutching a book called Los Alamos, another collection by him. Josh is going to see me so differently. He’s going to be amazed! Now I just have to bump into him accidentally-on-purpose as he leaves his office. Which is about two hundred yards away.

Keeping my eyes fixed on the entrance, I head toward a tiny alcove next to a shop where I have a good view of everybody as they head toward the tube station. A couple of Josh’s colleagues hurry past, and I feel a clench of nerves in my stomach. He’ll be here soon.

“Listen.” I turn urgently to Sadie. “You might possibly have to help me out a bit.”

“What do you mean, help you?” she says haughtily.

“Prompt Josh a bit. Tell him he likes me. Just to make sure.”

“Why will he need telling?” she retorts. “You said he was going to realize his mistake when he saw you.”

“He will,” I say impatiently. “But he might not realize it straightaway. He might need… a nudge. A kick-start. Like old cars,” I add in a moment of inspiration. “Like in your times. Remember? You wound the handle round and round and then suddenly the engine caught and off it went. You must have done that millions of times.”

“To motors,” she says. “Not men!”

“Same thing! Once he’s up and running, everything will be fine, I know it…” I catch my breath. Oh my God. There he is.

He’s sauntering along, his iPod in his ears, carrying a bottle of water and a new, cool-looking laptop bag. My legs are suddenly trembling, but there’s no time to lose. I take a step out from my hiding place, and then another and another, until I’m right in his path.

“Oh!” I try to adopt a tone of surprise. “Er… hi, Josh!”

“Lara.” He rips out his earphones and gazes at me warily.

“I’d completely forgotten you work around here!” I plaster a bright smile on my face. “What a coincidence!”

“Ye-esss,” he says slowly.

Honestly. He needn’t look quite so suspicious.

“I was just thinking about you the other day,” I continue hurriedly. “About that time we went to the wrong Notre Dame. D’you remember? When the GPS got it wrong? Wasn’t it funny?”

I’m gabbling. Slow down.

“That’s weird,” says Josh after a pause. “I was thinking about that the other day too.” His eyes alight on the book in my hand, and I can see the jolt of surprise. “Is that… Los Alamos?”

“Oh, yes,” I say carelessly. “I was looking through this fantastic book called Democratic Camera the other day. The pictures were so amazing, I just had to go and buy this.” I pat it fondly, then look up. “Hey, didn’t you quite like William Eggleston too?” I wrinkle my brow innocently. “Or was that someone else?”

“I love William Eggleston,” says Josh slowly. “It was me who gave you Democratic Camera.”

“Oh, that’s right.” I slap my head. “I’d forgotten.”

I can see bewilderment in his face. He’s on the back foot. Time to press home my advantage.

“Josh, I’ve been meaning to say…” I give him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry for all those texts I sent you. I don’t know what got into me.”

“Well…” Josh coughs awkwardly.

“Will you let me buy you a quick drink? Just to make it up? No hard feelings?”

There’s silence. I can almost see his thought processes. It’s a reasonable suggestion. It’s a free drink. She looks sane enough.

“OK.” He puts his iPod away. “Why not?”

I shoot a triumphant look at Sadie, who is shaking her head and making deathlike finger-across-the-throat gestures. Well, I don’t care what she thinks. I march Josh into a nearby pub, order a white wine for me and a beer for him, and find a table in the corner. We raise our glasses and sip, and I open some crisps.

“So.” I smile at Josh and offer him the packet.

“So.” He clears his throat, obviously feeling awkward. “How are things?”

“Josh.” I lean my elbows on the table and look at him seriously. “You know what? Let’s not analyze everything. God, I’m sick of people who analyze everything to death. I’m sick of unpicking conversations. Just live. Enjoy life. Don’t think about it!”

Josh stares at me over his beer, looking totally confused. “But you used to love analyzing. You used to read that magazine Analyze.”

“I’ve changed.” I shrug simply. “I’ve changed in so many ways, Josh. I buy less makeup. My bathroom is totally empty. I was thinking I might like to travel. To Nepal maybe.”

I’m sure I remember him mentioning Nepal, one of those times.

“You want to go traveling?” He seems taken aback. “But you never said-”

“It came to me recently,” I say earnestly. “Why am I so unadventurous? There’s so much out there to see. Mountains… cities… the temples of Kathmandu-”

“I’d love to see Kathmandu,” he says, looking animated. “You know, I was thinking about going there next year.”

“No!” I beam at him. “That’s amazing!”

For the next ten minutes we talk about Nepal. At least, Josh talks about Nepal and I agree with everything he says, and the time just whizzes by. We both have color in our cheeks and are laughing as he glances at his watch. We look like a happy couple. I know, because I keep checking out our reflection in the mirror.

“I’d better shoot,” Josh suddenly says, looking at his watch. “I’ve got a squash practice. It’s been good to see you, Lara.”

“Oh, right,” I say, taken aback. “Great to see you too.”

“Thanks for the drink.” I watch in slight panic as he picks up his laptop case. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

“This was a good idea, Lara.” He smiles, then bends to kiss my cheek. “No hard feelings. Let’s stay in touch.”

Stay in touch?

“Have another drink!” I try not to sound desperate. “Just a quick one!”

Josh considers for a moment, then looks at his watch again. “OK, a quick one. Same?” He heads toward the bar. The minute he’s out of earshot I hiss, “Sadie!” and beckon her over from the bar stool where she’s been sitting throughout, wedged between two businessmen with stripy-shirted guts.

“Tell him he loves me!”

“But he doesn’t love you,” says Sadie, as though explaining something very simple to someone very stupid.

“He does! He does, really! He’s just scared to admit it, even to himself. But you saw us. We were getting on amazingly. If he only had a little nudge in the right direction… please… please…” I gaze at her entreatingly. “After everything I’ve done for you … please.”

Sadie gives an exasperated sigh. “All right.”

A microsecond later she’s at Josh’s side, bellowing in his ear, “You still love Lara! You made a mistake! You still love Lara!”

I can see him stiffen and shake his head, trying to rid himself of the noise. He brushes his ear a few times, breathes heavily, and rubs his face. At last I see him turn and survey me. He looks so dazed that if I wasn’t feeling so anxious I’d laugh.

“You still love Lara! You still love Lara!”

As Josh carries the drinks over and sits down next to me, he seems transfixed. I shoot Sadie a grateful smile and sip my wine, waiting for Josh to declare himself. But he sits rigid, his eyes distant.

“Is there something on your mind, Josh?” I prompt at last in a soft voice. “Because if there is, you can tell me. I’m an old friend. You can trust me.”

“Lara-” He stops.

I look desperately at Sadie for more help. He’s nearly there, he’s so nearly there…

“You love Lara! Don’t fight it, Josh! You love her!”

Josh’s brow is clearing. He’s drawing breath. I think he’s going to-

“Lara.”

“Yes, Josh?” I can hardly manage the words.

Go on, go on, go on…

“I think maybe I made a mistake.” Josh swallows hard. “I think I still love you.”

Even though I knew he was going to say it, there’s a huge, romantic swell in my heart, and tears start pricking my eyes.

“Well… I still love you, Josh,” I say, my voice trembling. “I always did.”

I’m not sure if he kisses me or I kiss him, but suddenly our arms are wrapped around each other, and we’re devouring each other. (OK, I think I kissed him.) As we draw apart eventually, Josh looks even more dazed than before.

“Well,” he says after a bit.

“Well.” I lovingly mesh my fingers with his.

“Lara, I have this squash thing.” He glances at his watch, looking uncomfortable. “I need to…”

“Don’t worry,” I say generously. “Go. We can talk later.”

“OK.” He nods. “I’ll text you my new number.”

“Great.” I smile.

I won’t bring up the fact that I think it was a total overreaction to change his mobile number just because of a few texts I sent him. We can talk about that another time. No hurry.

As he flips open his phone, I glance over his shoulder-and feel a jolt of sheer amazement. He’s still got a photo of us on his screen. Him and me. Standing on a mountain in our skiwear at sunset. We’re in silhouette, but I remember the moment vividly. We’d been skiing all day, and the sunset was spectacular. We asked this German guy to take a picture, and he spent about half an hour lecturing Josh about the settings on his phone. And Josh kept the photo! All this time!

“Nice picture,” I say in a deadpan, casual way, nodding at it.

“Yeah.” Josh’s face softens as he gazes at it. “Makes me feel good whenever I look at it.”

“Me too,” I say breathlessly.

I knew it. I knew it. He does love me. He just needed a nudge, he just needed a confidence boost, he just needed that inner voice to tell him it was OK.

My phone burbles with a text, and Josh’s number pops up on my screen. I can’t help a tiny sigh of satisfaction. I’ve got him back again. He’s mine!

We head out of the pub, hands tightly clasped, and pause at the corner.

“I’ll get a cab,” says Josh. “Do you want to-”

I’m about to say, “Great! I’ll share it with you!” But then the new Lara stops me. Don’t be too eager. Give him space.

I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m going the other way. Love you.” I kiss his fingers, one by one.

“Love you.” He nods. A cab stops, and Josh bends to kiss me again before getting in.

“Bye!” I wave as it pulls off, then turn away, hugging myself, zinging all over with triumph. We’re back together! I’m back with Josh!