Twenties Girl 68

But I don’t dare. There’s only the thinnest, most fragile chain linking me to the necklace now, and the strongest link in it is Diamanté. If I piss her off I’ll lose it forever.

“Perfect!” I force myself to smile back and high-five Diamanté. I take the phone and dictate my address to Flora, spelling out every single word twice.

Now all I can do is cross all my fingers. And my toes. And wait.

EIGHTEEN

He’ll get the necklace back. I have to believe it. I do believe it.

But, still, both Sadie and I have been on edge since last night. Sadie snapped when I stood on her toe this morning (through her toe, more accurately), and I told her off for criticizing my makeup. The truth is, I feel like I’ve failed her. The necklace has been within my reach twice. And each time I’ve let it get away. Anxiety is gnawing inside me, making me uptight and defensive.

This morning I woke up wondering if I should just get on a train to Paris. But how would I ever track Flora down? Where would I start? I feel totally powerless.

Neither of us is chatting much this morning; in fact, Sadie has been silent for a while. As I finish typing my emails at work, I watch her staring out the window, her back rigid. She’s never said so, but it must be lonely for her, wafting around the world with only me to talk to.

Sighing, I shut down my computer, wondering where the necklace is right this minute. In Paris somewhere. Around that girl Flora’s neck, maybe. Or in an open bag, carelessly left on an open-top-car seat.

My stomach feels all stabby and nauseous again. I have to stop this or I’ll turn into Mum. I can’t keep obsessing about what might happen or what might go wrong. The necklace will come back. I have to believe it. Meanwhile, I have a life to lead. I have a boyfriend to meet for lunch.

I push back my chair, shrug on my jacket, and grab my bag.

“See you later,” I say toward both Kate and Sadie, and head out of the office hurriedly before either can reply. I don’t want any company. I’m feeling a bit jittery about seeing Josh again, to be honest. I mean, it’s not like I have any doubts or anything. Nothing like that. I suppose I’m just… apprehensive.

What I’m really not in the mood for is Sadie suddenly appearing beside me as I’m nearly at the tube station.

“Where are you going?” she demands.

“Nowhere.” I hurry on, trying to ignore her. “Leave me alone.”

“You’re meeting Josh, aren’t you?”

“If you knew, then why did you bother asking?” I say childishly. “Excuse me…” I swing around a corner, trying to shake her off. But she won’t be shaken.

“As your guardian angel, I insist that you see sense,” she says crisply. “Josh is not in love with you, and if you think for a moment he is, you’re even more self-deceiving than I thought.”

“You said you weren’t my guardian angel,” I say over my shoulder. “So butt out, old lady.”

“Don’t call me old!” she says in outrage. “And I’m not going to let you throw yourself away on some lily-livered, weak-willed puppet.”

“He’s not a puppet,” I snap, then run down the tube steps. I can hear the train coming, so I swipe my Oyster card, dash onto the platform, and make it onto the tube just in time.

“You don’t even love him.” Sadie’s voice follows me. “Not really.”

This is the final outrage. I’m so incensed I swivel to face her, whipping out my phone. “Of course I do! Why do you think I’ve been so miserable? Why would I want him back if I didn’t love him?”

“To prove to everyone that you’re right.” She folds her arms.

This one takes me by surprise. In fact, it takes me a moment to gather my thoughts.

“That’s just… rubbish! That shows how little you know! It’s got nothing to do with that! I love Josh, and he loves me…” I trail off as I feel the attention of all the travelers in the carriage turning toward me.

I stump to a corner seat, pursued by Sadie. As she draws breath to launch into another speech, I take out my iPod and put it on. A moment later her voice is drowned out.

Perfect! I should have thought of this a long time ago.

I suggested to Josh that we meet at Bistro Martin, just to exorcise all memories of that stupid Marie. As I hand in my coat I see him, already sitting at the table, and feel a whoosh of relief, mixed with vindication.

“You see?” I can’t help muttering to Sadie. “He’s early. Now tell me he doesn’t care for me.”

“He doesn’t know his own mind.” She shakes her head dismissively. “He’s like a ventriloquist’s dummy. I told him what to say. I told him what to think.”