Page 98 of The Girlfriend

Isabella was going to ask which, but Laura had turned away andwas looking out the huge glass bifold doors that led out onto a sunken, white, minimalist garden.

“You ever feel exposed? As if someone could get in?”

“Darling, it might be large and worth six mil, but it’s still a terrace. I’m enclosed on all sides.”

Laura turned back to accept the cup of chamomile, and noticed her hands were jittery.

“Want to tell me about it?” said Isabella.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Sit down.”

She did, grateful that someone else was taking control of the situation. She twisted her cup in her fingers, trying to phrase what it was she knew she had to say.

“I don’t want to rush you, but if I don’t get up to Mother’s before evening, she’ll be calling the randy colonel at the end of the lane and asking him to send out his helicopter.”

“A few days ago I heard from ITV that my, our, project has been canceled.”

“What?”

“Izzy, this is going to sound bonkers . . . horrendous.... Oh, God, I’m not losing the plot, but you might think so when you hear what I’m about to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“I’ve been afraid to say . . .”

“You can tell me anything,” said Isabella softly.

“Promise not to judge.”

“Course.”

Laura looked at her; it had been a throwaway promise to continue the conversation. Now that she had Isabella’s attention, she didn’t know where to start. She fiddled with her cup and then suddenly, unexpectedly, started to cry. Almost as soon as the first tear made a run for it, she pulled herself together, quickly retrieving a clean handkerchief from her bag. Izzy put out a comforting hand.

“What is it? Laura?”

“Cherry’s back.”

Izzy sat up. “ ‘Back,’ in what sense?”

“She’s living with Daniel. I said something to her months ago that wasn’t true. It made her go away, but then she found out I’d lied and she wanted him back. He’s invited her to move in with him. Meanwhile, to punish me for what I said, she’s told me she’s going to take everything away from me. Daniel’s not answering my calls, Howard wants a divorce. A few days ago, I found that she’d sent a dead puppy to the lead actress on my new project. My salvation project.”

Isabella’s mouth was ever so slightly open as she took all this in with growing incredulous outrage on her friend’s behalf.

“‘A dead puppy’? What in heaven’s name did you say to her?”

“I told her Daniel had died. While she was away in Mexico. She came back and I didn’t want her to see him. I phoned her up when she’d come off the plane and told her he was dead. And she couldn’t see him as we’d cremated him and scattered the ashes.”

Isabella was still trying to smile some encouragement, but the corners of her mouth twitched and fell. Laura saw confusion in her friend’s eyes, along with disbelief.

“You said you wouldn’t judge.”

“No! I’m not,” said Isabella quickly.

“At the time . . . I thought he was dying. I thought he only had a few days left.”

“And then . . . ?”