Cover Story - 59

Bel was walking home on Thursday, having spent the day negotiating interview access to Erin a dozen times. Bel had insisted Erin was the appropriate spokeswoman and with Bel’s guidance, Erin was very willing to do it.

Bel would go so far as to say she’d seen Erin grow in stature and confidence hour by hour.

It reminded her of a James Baldwin quote: ‘The victim who is able to articulate the situation of the victim has ceased to be a victim, he or she has become a threat.’

Bel was listening to a high-profile politics podcast analysing Glenn Bailey’s curtailed career – and what they coyly called in the introduction ‘his tragic, dysfunctional flaw.’ It prompted Bel to startle passers-by outside Boots by bellowing: ‘It wasn’t a fucking chromosomal abnormality it was a CHOICE.’

Her progress was interrupted by an automated voice. She’d accidentally turned on the option that robotically related texts, in telegram-reading fashion. It was enhanced by the fact she had a friend called Miles so had to differentiate in her address book.

MILES OPEN BRACKET MY BROTHER CLOSE BRACKET. Mum incoming like Scud missile. Table stuff at wedding. Looking forward to seeing you. Been ages. Xx

Bel scrabbled the AirPods out of her ears and panicked. Verity’s wedding was this Saturday! She’d completely forgotten! Verity’s wedding, Tim’s sister: Tim and Rhiannon there together. Bel’s sacred vow to her mother she’d not pull a disappearing act. Not only did she not want to renege on that promise, using an obvious excuse at the last minute – when she’d been planned and budgeted for – would be a shit’s trick.

Bel replied to her brother and seconds later, her phone flashed with MUM.

‘There you are, you’re rather hard to get hold of for someone in the communications business, Isabel.’

‘Sorry, I’ve been completely consumed by this Mayor story.’

‘Oh yes, I read everything you sent me. That foul man. Why are there so MANY of them?’

‘It’s a sickness of patriarchal society,’ Bel said.

‘I wanted to tell you that Verity’s trying to pin you down to finalise her table plans. I know this isn’t forefront of your mind but please be diplomatic and helpful as you can – the final stages of wedding planning are awfully stressful.’

As usual, her mother was labouring to smooth it over between her best friends and their former would-be-daughter-in-law. Her mum and Miles thought no less of Tim, why couldn’t the Hornbys be adults? Instead her mum, as interlocuter, was left constantly auto-tuning everyone’s vocals.

She thought of Connor’s views on the matter.

‘Ah, that’s Verity now,’ Bel said, as Call Waiting blipped at her. ‘I’ll be sweetness and light, Mother. See you Saturday.’

‘Hi, Bel, sorry to chase you like this, some last-minute housekeeping,’ Verity said. ‘I’ve moved you to the table furthest from the top tables, like you wanted. I wondered if you’re bringing a plus one? I was sure you said you were on your RSVP and I’ve planned it in but Tim says you’re definitely single?’

‘You’ve moved me, like I wanted?’ Bel said, brow furrowed.

‘Yes – Tim said you wanted to be towards the back of the room? Giving you some space from each other.’

Bel was stung, taking real offence at this. It wasn’t the truce she’d hoped for, that was for sure. It was no longer excusable as a newly hurt person, lashing back. Tim had moved on romantically and would be in the bosom of his family. It was becoming more like a nasty little vendetta.

How had she never seen the peevish side of Tim when they were together? She’d liked how loyal he was to his family and friends, how he firmly out-grouped the ‘dickheads’ at work. It had seemed like integrity and unpretentious decency to Bel. She’d been one of the Good People in Tim’s life, so she’d failed to notice how such tribal simplicities could also mask a childlike intolerance. Now she was labelled Bad People, she was learning the downside to the lack of nuance. No wonder he’d not known how to deal with her mum and Miles, who weren’t by any logical stretch Bad People, as a result of Bel’s decision, but nevertheless ‘people Tim couldn’t stand to be around’.

It wasn’t that Tim was a sinister person. Just a really petty, unimpressive one.

‘Ah, I didn’t say that, but wherever you put me is great,’ Bel said, breezily, quickly, before the pushback on Tim could be fully absorbed: ‘Really looking forward to it!’

‘Only doing as I’m told,’ Verity said, in a tight, fatigued voice that conveyed why the hell do I have to have my brother’s ex there, I didn’t ask for this. Nor did I, Verity, thought Bel, but it’s far too late to make up a phony holiday and be hated for that instead. She wasn’t going to give Tim the satisfaction of a no-show.

‘And is Tim right, you’re single?’

Bel couldn’t bring herself to say yes. For the first time she wondered if coupledom with Rhiannon had been … time-led.

‘No, I’m bringing a plus one,’ she blurted, defensively.

Uh, BEL, what the hell did you say that for?

‘Great, see you on the day!’ Verity said, ringing off so fast it was like crashing the receiver back into the cradle with a Bakelite phone.

Bel seethed. She messaged Tim.

Bel

Hi! Why did you tell your sister I wanted moving tables at her wedding?

Tim

Hi! She said she was doing a table of singles. I said I’d prefer it, she must have got mixed up.

Twat. The sullen, juvenile insolence of it. The assumption she was a single.

Bel

Right, sure. This is very small person stuff, isn’t it, Tim?

Tim

Does that mean you think you’re the bigger person?

Bel drafted replies to this in her head and decided, as Connor had once said, silence was the most eloquent response.

Speaking of which, she had to do this before she could think about it too much. Connor was leaving this weekend. She knew it wasn’t until Sunday, due to his dad’s availability. She’d been about to offer Friday drinks, instead she was angling to drag him to a wedding full of strangers seventy miles away.

Bel

Connor, I have to ask a huge favour, and feel free to say ‘gross, no.’ My ex Tim’s sister’s getting married in York on Saturday, I have to go, and Tim’s being an arsehole about it. When I was put on the spot, I said I had a plus one. Don’t suppose if you’ve got nothing on instead, you could come out of retirement for one last job, as my fake plus one? Warning: it’s going to mean negotiated same-bed share again. Also, I am well aware I am taking the bare piss. Two days’ notice, a wedding where you know no one – WHOOP.

Connor

Gross, no

Bel laughed and focused hard on the rippling ‘typing’ dots. Hope bloomed in her heart and she thought about how much she enjoyed him.

Connor

Sure. I’d be offended if you asked anyone else, tbh.

You can’t have a fake, fake boyfriend. I’m the real fake.

She wanted to let go an excited scream. Not for the first time, he had bailed her out.

Bel

CONNOR ADAMS THANK YOU SO SO MUCH X

Connor

How’s Tim being an arsehole?

Bel felt a small glimmer of flattery that this was an authentically boyfriendish question. But she was kidding herself: Connor understood the assignment, that was all.

Bel

Lied to Verity (his sister, the bride) I wanted to be on a distant table. Lied when I challenged him on why he’d done it. Took it upon himself to declare me single on my behalf. Has gone fully cocky hostile dickbag, sadly.

Connor

I TOLD you he was immature. I’ve had enough of scorned Tim Hornby. Scornby. OK. Let’s give them the biggest display of sparks since Burton walked on set to Cleopatra with Taylor.

Bel

You are 100 per cent the Liz here.

Connor

Yep. Raven hair, violet eyes, London born. You are the craggy, very ‘regional pride’ bellowing drinker.

Bel

Hahahahahaha – YES

(I will send you all the details)

(Thank you again x)

Dear Lord – this was almost flirty?

Bel squinted at her handset, wondering what was niggling at her, before a dazed smile settled upon her face. She’d never told Connor Tim’s surname. Either Shilpa had mentioned it and he had a keen memory, or, OR. Connor had been interested enough in her life to do idle research?

She strained to believe it; could he possibly be that curious about her? Then again, he’d proved an instant hit at investigations.