‘I always thought I wanted that. As I get older, I think how much easier it would be to just be alone. To never have met Mark. To never have had this career, and gone into hairdressing or something.’
‘You could still do that?’
She laughed. ‘Don’t be daft. This is my life now. And in a few decades, that will be me and Mark,’ she sighed. ‘To the outside world, we’ll look like a sweet, happy couple who still make each other cups of tea in the morning and hold hands when we’re sitting on the sofa at home. He’ll probably even believe that we are that couple. I will play my part so it looks like I’m happy. But on the inside, I will be burning.’
They spent the rest of the day together, ambling around Hyde Park, buying coffees at various pit stops along the way. At some point, Clara suggested they get a drink. Before Rose could think about it, she had hailed a black cab, told the driver an address and opened the car door. The pub they went to was one of Clara’s favourites, she said. She hadn’t been there in years because her manager told her it was too ‘lowbrow’ for her to be seen there.
‘But it’s, like, 3.30 p.m. on a Monday so I’m sure it will be empty anyway,’ she told Rose.
As predicted, the pub was deserted aside from two tables, one where a man in his mid-fifties sat alone, nursing a pint of Guinness, and another where two women who looked like they belonged in an A-Level maths class sat drinking from cans of Coca-Cola, huddled over a phone.
Clara asked the barman for his most expensive bottle of white wine. ‘For two very expensive ladies,’ she said, winking at him. She pointed to a table in the corner and went to the bathroom, giving Rose an opportunity to check her phone. There were five missed calls from Luce and a text from Minnie.
She wrote out a message to Luce first.
Sorry, just with an influencer for work, she wrote. Going to be here a little longer but will aim to meet you at that bar at 9ish? xxx.
The message from Minnie read: Any luck?
Not yet, she’s in a bit of a bad way so I’m trying to bond with her a little. I’ll get there, Rose replied.
Do whatever you need to, said Minnie. Within reason, she added a second later.
It was reassuring to work for an older woman who had no interest in competing with Rose or putting her down in the way she’d heard so many women did at other workplaces. Luce had endless stories of female colleagues going up against one another at her law firm. Rose felt lucky not to have to deal with any of that at Firehouse. Sure, Oliver was always antagonising her, and Annabelle seemed to serve no real purpose other than using the office as her own personal catwalk. But Minnie was always in her corner, which made all the other stuff bearable.
Rose had been waiting for an opportunity to mention the party. It seemed ridiculous now to even bring it up given everything they’d discussed.
Clara came back from the bathroom and sat opposite Rose, pouring both of their glasses to the top.
‘Clara …’ she began.
‘Cheers!’ she said smiling. It was the first genuine smile she’d seen from Clara all day.
‘Cheers,’ Rose replied, tilting her glass forward.
They’d almost finished the bottle by the time Clara started talking about how a recent sponsorship deal with a designer in Milan had fallen through. This was Rose’s moment.
‘Clara, I wonder if we …’
‘Shall we get some cigarettes?’ Clara interjected before Rose could say anything else, wide-eyed and scanning the room, as if looking for a levitating packet of Marlboro Lights.
‘Sure,’ she replied.
Clara waved over at the barman, mouthing ‘we’ll be right back’, to which he looked bemused considering the music was very quiet and had she spoken the words he would’ve almost certainly heard her.
‘Can’t believe how expensive these are now,’ Clara said as she unwrapped the clear film of her newly purchased cigarette packet and threw it on the ground. She was visibly drunk now. Rose was holding it together, though she felt a little light-headed.
Either the drinking, the process of talking about her relationship with Mark, or possibly the cigarette had stirred something in Clara. Because, illuminated by the golden glow of summer’s early evening light, she had settled down; it was as if something in her had been released. It was strange seeing the shift in real time. Rose wasn’t sure exactly how or when it happened. But the woman in front of her was not the same as the one crying into her bone-china plate at Cecconi’s. This woman was front-facing and ready to present this version of herself to the night.
Rose nodded, taking a cigarette into her hand as they walked back towards the bar. ‘I didn’t realise you smoked.’
Clara laughed. ‘Only on special occasions.’
She grabbed Rose’s hand, cigarette dangling out of her mouth and started walking more quickly. ‘And this is one of them. Come on!’ she shouted as Rose trailed behind. ‘We’re going to finish that bottle of wine and then we are going out.’
FIVE
Rose’s ears were ringing. ‘Do you think they have earplugs anywhere?’ she shouted into Clara’s ear.
‘What?’ she shouted back.
‘Do you think they have earplugs?’ Rose tried again, feeling the tug of her vocal cords.
‘I can’t hear you!’ Clara shouted back.
‘Earplugs!’ she pointed to her ears.
Clara shrugged and continued dancing.
They’d ended up at a private gig somewhere in east London. The definition of the private part wasn’t clear. Earlier on in the evening, Clara had taken Rose to the launch party of some new Italian restaurant in Mayfair. It had a wall of red roses with a gold throne perched in front of it designed specifically for people to take photographs. The chair was an antique that had been designed in the Baroque period. Somehow, none of it looked cheap. It just looked ridiculous.
At the launch party, a man wearing a blindingly bright blue suit approached Clara from behind, putting his hand on the small of her back to kiss her as he said hello. Rose observed the conversation for several minutes before Clara introduced her. He worked at a production company and he wanted Clara to post some Instagram Stories for his new feminist film about zombies.
‘They’ve all come back from the dead to kill the men that wronged them,’ he said.
‘Wow,’ said Rose, mockingly.
‘I know!’ the man replied, completely earnestly.
