‘A herm-maker! My merther is also a herm-maker.’ I took another long sip of my drink. ‘Herm-making is perfectly lervely.’ I saw Josh, his face focused intently on his boss’s, reminding me briefly of Thom’s when he was pleading with Dad to give him some of his crisps.
The woman’s expression had become faintly concerned – or as far as a woman who couldn’t move her brow could express concern. A bubble of giggles had started to build in my chest and I pleaded with some unseen deity to keep them under control.
‘Maya!’ Her voice tinged with relief, Mrs Dumont (at least, I assumed that was whom I’d been talking to) waved at a woman approaching us, her perfect figure neatly pinned into a mint-coloured shift dress. I waited while they air-kissed.
‘You look simply gorgeous.’
‘As do you. I love that dress.’
‘Oh, it’s so old. And you’re so sweet. How’s that darling husband of yours? Always talking business.’
‘Oh, you know Mitchell.’ Mrs Dumont plainly couldn’t ignore my presence any longer. ‘This is Joshua Ryan’s girlfriend. I’m so sorry, I missed your name. Terribly noisy in here.’
‘Louisa,’ I said.
‘How lovely. I’m Chrissy. I’m Jeffrey’s other half. You know Jeffrey in Sales and Marketing?’
‘Oh, everyone knows Jeffrey,’ said Mrs Dumont.
‘Oh, Jeffrey …’ I said, shaking my head. Then nodding. Then shaking my head again.
‘And what do you do?’
‘What do I do?’
‘Louisa’s in fashion.’ Josh appeared at my side.
‘You certainly do have an individual look. I love the British, don’t you, Mallory? They are so interesting in their choices.’
There was a brief silence, while everyone digested my choices.
‘Louisa’s about to start work at Women’s Wear Daily.’
‘You are?’ said Mallory Dumont.
‘I am?’ I said. ‘Yes. I am.’
‘Well, that must be just thrilling. What a wonderful magazine. I must find my husband. Do excuse me.’ With another bland smile she walked off on her vertiginous heels, Maya beside her.
‘Why did you say that?’ I said, reaching for another glass of champagne. ‘It sounds better than I house-sit an old lady?’
‘No. You – you just look like you might work in fashion.’
‘You’re still uncomfortable with what I’m wearing?’ I looked over at the two women, in their complementary dresses. I had a sudden memory of how Agnes must have felt at such gatherings, the myriad subtle ways women can find to let other women know they do not fit in.
‘You look great. It’s just it makes it easier to explain your – your particular … unique sensibility if they think you’re in fashion. Which you kind of are.’
‘I’m perfectly happy with what I do, Josh.’
‘But you want to work in fashion, don’t you? You can’t look after an old woman for ever. Look, I was going to tell you after – my sister-in-law, Debbie, she knows a woman in the marketing department at Women’s Wear Daily. She said she’s going to ask them to find out if they have any entry-level vacancies. She seems pretty confident she can do something for you. What do you say?’ He was beaming, like he’d presented me with the Holy Grail.
I took a swig of my drink. ‘Sure.’
‘There you go. Exciting!’ He kept looking at me, eyebrows raised.
‘Yay!’ I said finally.
He squeezed my shoulder. ‘I knew you’d be happy. Right. Let’s get back out there. It’s the family races next. Want a lime and soda? I don’t think we can really be seen to be drinking more than one glass of the champagne. Here, let me take that for you.’ He put my glass on the tray of a passing waiter and we headed out into the sunshine.
Given the elegance of the occasion and the spectacular nature of the setting, I should really have enjoyed the next couple of hours. I had said yes to a new experience, after all. But in truth I felt increasingly out of place among the corporate couples. The conversational rhythms eluded me so that when I was pulled into a casual group I ended up seeming either mute or stupid. Josh moved from person to person, like a guided managerial missile, at every stop his face eager and engaged, his manner polished and assertive. I found myself watching him and wondering again what on earth he saw in me. I was nothing like these women, with their glowing peach-coloured limbs and their uncreasable dresses, their tales of impossible nannies and holidays in the Bahamas. I followed in his wake, repeating his lie about my nascent fashion career and smiling mutely and agreeing that yes, yes it is very beautiful and thank you, ooh, yes, I’d love another glass of champagne and trying not to notice Josh’s bobbing eyebrow.
‘How are you enjoying the day?’
A woman with a red-haired bob so shiny it was almost mirrored stood beside me as Josh laughed uproariously at the joke of some older man in a pale blue shirt and chinos.
‘Oh. It’s great. Thank you.’
I had become very good by then at smiling and saying nothing at all.
‘Felicity Lieberman. I work two desks away from Josh. He’s doing really well.’
I shook her hand. ‘Louisa Clark. He certainly is.’ I stepped back and took another sip of my drink.
‘He’ll make partner within two years. I’m certain of it. You two been dating long?’
‘Uh, not that long. But we’ve known each other a lot longer.’
She seemed to be waiting for me to say more.
‘Well, we were sort of friends before.’ I had drunk too much and found myself talking more than I had intended. ‘I was actually with someone else, but Josh and I, we kept bumping into each other. Well, he says he was waiting for me. Or waiting until me and my ex split up. It was actually kind of romantic. And a bunch of stuff happened, then – bang! Suddenly we were in a relationship. You know how these things go.’
‘Oh, I do. He’s very persuasive, is our Josh.’
There was something in her laugh that unsettled me. ‘ “Persuasive”?’ I said, after a moment.
‘So did he do the whispering gallery on you?’
‘Did he what?’
She must have caught my look of shock. She leant towards me. ‘Felicity Lieberman, you are the cutest girl in New York.’ She glanced at Josh, then backtracked. ‘Oh, don’t look like that. We weren’t serious. And Josh really does like you. He talks about you a lot at work. He’s definitely serious. But, Jeez, these men and their moves, right?’
I tried to laugh. ‘Right.’
By the time Mr Dumont had made a self-congratulatory speech and couples had begun to float off to their homes I was sinking under an early hangover. Josh held open the door of a waiting taxi but I said I’d walk.
‘You don’t want to come back to mine? We could grab a bite to eat.’
‘I’m tired. And Margot has an appointment in the morning,’ I said. My cheeks were aching from all the fake smiling.
His eyes searched my face. ‘You’re mad at me.’
‘I’m not mad at you.’
‘You’re mad at me because of what I said about your job.’ He took my hand. ‘Louisa, I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart.’
‘But you wanted me to be someone else. You thought I was beneath them.’