Thirty-Four
Charlotte
At first, I didn’t feel bad for not including Bianka and Emil at the barbecue – I just wanted it to feel like it used to, before I’d ever even met her. It wasn’t like I’d planned it especially, it just happened at the last minute, a casual little neighbourhood event. I lied to Andreas and told him that Emil and Bianka were busy. I didn’t want to make it awkward for him; Emil is his boss, after all. The truth is that I desperately felt the need for some space, but equally, I’m terrified of her. And now, after what she’s done on Instagram, it’s very obvious that I have reason to be.
Like the barbecue, tonight wasn’t planned. I messaged Linda and Anette an hour ago asking them to come over – I need to feel out the situation with my friends before I speak to Bianka herself. Anette, Linda, and I briefly touched on Bianka at the barbecue but couldn’t really continue the conversation with husbands and kids hovering around us. And now, after what’s happened on Instagram, we’ll definitely have plenty to talk about.
I carry a bucket full of ice with a bottle of Perrier-Jouët plunged into it from the kitchen and into the living room where the girls are sitting. I obviously haven’t even slightly alluded to what really happened in Ibiza, but I have made it pretty clear that I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed by the intensity of the friendship with Bianka. Anette and Linda didn’t seem surprised, though I was intrigued that Anette didn’t mention that she’d seen me and Bianka on the moonlit path that night.
Perhaps she actually didn’t see anything, merely a rustle among the trees, but I know Anette, and I know Can Xara like the back of my own hand, and from where she stood on the terrace, I’m in no doubt that she would have seen or – at the very least – heard something.
‘So,’ I say, sitting back down and unpeeling the foil covering the champagne cork. ‘That insane picture on Instagram. Of me eating the focaccia. It must have been Bianka who posted it.’ The girls nod sagely and exchange a quick glance. They’ve clearly had this conversation already.
‘That was insane all right,’ says Linda. ‘They’re calling it focacciagate.’
‘But…why?’ asks Anette.
‘Bianka has been calling and messaging me quite a bit since we got back, but I haven’t seen her. I think she’s mad about the barbecue. I feel bad, but I needed a bit of space.’
‘I mean, I need some space from her and I’m not the one who is super close to her,’ says Anette, chuckling.
‘I wouldn’t call it super close…’ I wonder whether Anette might have told Linda about my sexual relationship with Bianka. Perhaps not directly, but all she’d have to do is insinuate that it might have crossed over into that.
‘I think she would,’ says Linda, and they laugh as I wrench the cork loose from the bottle’s neck with a soft pop. ‘I bumped into Bianka today, by the way.’
‘What? Where?’
‘Literally down the street from my house. I was walking Miso and she was sitting at the coffee place at the end of my road.’
‘That’s miles away from her,’ I say.
I have the sudden feeling that there is no such thing as ‘bumping into’ Bianka.
‘She behaved really weirdly. She flat-out denied posting focacciagate, and basically insinuated it was me.’ At this, Anette’s mouth drops open. ‘She’s definitely mad about the barbecue. And she also ranted about Scandi ladies’ night, how it was moved to freeze her out or something.’
‘But that’s crazy,’ I say. ‘It seems like she blames me for that. It didn’t even have anything to do with her. None of it makes any sense,’ I say.
‘God, how awkward,’ says Anette, who suddenly looks a little sheepish. ‘But… I wasn’t kidding about needing a break from her after Ibiza. So I took her off the mailing list when Scandi ladies’ night was rescheduled.’
‘Anette, no!’ I say. ‘Seriously? She posted the focaccia picture after that happened. She… She’s furious with me. You might have told me.’ I pick up my phone and show her the picture Bianka sent from the pub with the charming ‘fuck you’ caption.
‘Sorry,’ Anette says, ‘but I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with her. And you said it yourself – how lovely it was that she didn’t turn up.’
‘Yes, but… Anette, that’s mean and she’s clearly furious. And it’s me she blames for it. I mean, she’s literally tried to ruin my career.’ God knows what she might do next. Bianka can take me down, and we both know it. I have to find a way to fix this.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ says Anette. ‘I guess I didn’t think it would blow up into this big thing. She does seem pretty unhinged, though. And how weird that she “bumped” into you in Cobham, Linda,’ she adds. I feel a chill run up my spine at the thought of Bianka out there, looking for Linda.
‘Yeah, it was. I also asked her about this odd thing that happened one of the last nights at Can Xara and she, like, freaked out and just walked off. Just like that. Not even a goodbye.’
‘Wait, what?’ My heart picks up its pace. ‘What odd thing at Can Xara?’
‘Maybe I should have mentioned it before. I did think it was strange, but I guess I forgot. It was so late. I didn’t think about it again until this afternoon when I saw her.’
‘What?’ I ask, careful not to shout, though I want to – Linda has a rather infuriatingly slow way of getting to the point.
‘I saw her in the middle of the night, walking around the house with a pair of kettlebells and then she disappeared outside with them.’
‘That is weird,’ says Anette.
‘Well, not necessarily,’ I say. ‘I sometimes work out pretty late.’
‘Yes, but Bianka doesn’t really strike me as the type to, though,’ says Anette. ‘She’s a total hedonist.’
‘Do you think so?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral. ‘See, I’d say that she’s also actually quite sporty.’
‘Umm, I don’t want to be mean, but did you see her when we did yoga? Definitely her first time,’ says Anette.
‘Exactly,’ says Linda.
‘Okay, well. I know I brought her up but let’s talk about something else. I feel a bit mean,’ I say, and refill everyone’s glasses.
‘I think maybe you should call her, though,’ says Linda. ‘You know, touch base, and if you need clearer boundaries, then state them.’ Linda has had a lot of therapy. She’s right, though, I do need to speak to Bianka. I simply can’t afford for her to be out there, furious and feeling rejected – not after what we’ve done and what she holds over me. She’s not going to go away and I absolutely need to find a way to keep her sweet and simultaneously at arm’s length.
‘On a different note, did you guys hear about that young guy going missing in Ibiza? Charlotte, I think it’s literally right by Can Xara. They said the hills south of Sant Miquel,’ says Anette, sending a bolt of sheer shock through my body. I happen to glance down at my hand holding the stem of the champagne glass and for a split second I see the hairpin in its place, drenched in blood. I place the glass on the table. I must have somehow missed the news breaking.
‘What?’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ says Linda. ‘What happened? That’s awful.’
