Tash,

It is imperative that we speak as soon as possible. I am not taking to the slopes today because of the urgency of this matter! Please call me on my mobile as soon as you receive this note or come and find me!! I am in Bar de la Galerie.

Jayne.

Tash smiled to herself. Jayne was a funny girl. The tone of the note was so dramatic. Tash had received four similar notes from her so far on this short break. The 'urgent matter' was usually something so trivial that Tash had to employ all her self-restraint not to laugh in Jayne's face.

The other night it had been the 'urgent' matter of whether the red velour Diesel top versus cla.s.sic DKNY sweatshirt was the most suitable for dinner. Before that she was called into Jayne's room 'urgently' to discuss the choice of nail varnish for her toes. Toes that would be hidden in thick ski socks and boarding boots for the majority of the trip. It was very flattering that Jayne made such a big deal over the fact that Tash was a 'style guru', as she had been dubbed, but Tash did wonder how Jayne had managed to get herself dressed for the past thirty years. Tash giggled as she read that it was 'vital that they talk, more serious than a matter of life and death'. You had to give it to Jayne, she had such a sense of humour. However, whatever the crisis trendy O'Neil sungla.s.ses versus cla.s.sic Gucci, perhaps? Tash didn't have time to go to Bar de la Galerie, she had to meet with the maitre d' and the chef.

Tash had hoped that Rich would at least make it to this meeting, but he didn't, so he missed the complimentary lunch that they'd prepared as a rehearsal for the wedding breakfast. Tash lingered over her coffee, playing with discarded breadcrumbs from her roll. She piled the crumbs into a Thumbelina-sized mountain, then scattered them again.

It was five past four.

The restaurant walls were painted oxblood red, which Tash thought was extremely fitting; red was a hot, pa.s.sionate colour. She'd finalized the menu details and timing with the maitre d' and the chef. A six-course meal for six now, not eight. Sitting down at 1 p.m.; no doubt not rising again until after sundown. There were to be red gladioli on the table and, although Rich didn't know it, Tash had bought a new boarding jacket in red. Well, every bride got a new outfit. The plan was to wake up early, be married at nine on the Pointe de Mossette overlooking the Portes du Soleil. Then they'd ski and board all morning, then change and have lunch at 1 p.m. Unconventional as far as wedding days went, but exactly what Tash and Rich wanted. Outdoors, energetic and individual.

Tash had drunk three gla.s.ses of wine with her complimentary lunch. She was supposed to be tasting them and then spitting them out, but it seemed such a waste, she couldn't bear it. And now a fourth gla.s.s, a dessert wine, had just been delivered to her table. Strictly speaking, she should have drunk this with the creme brioche, but she'd only taken a bite of the brioche and then demurred, pleading that every bride-to-be likes to watch her figure. The chef had nodded, understanding. He was French and therefore loved food, but loved slim women more.

Tash sighed contentedly. She was replete and ready. Replete from the delicious meal and ready for her delicious future. She wanted to hold her arms out wide and embrace it. She wanted to dive in and touch and feel, and see and smell and hear everything that life had in store for her and Rich. It had been a peculiar week. A rollercoaster ride. Mia's constant sniping and niggles had been wearing. It would have been nice if Mia had been like Jayne. Making friends with Jayne was like being a kid on a blistering hot summer day, dashing down a slide into a paddling pool of water fun, thrilling and a giggle. Jayne would always have a special place in Tash's heart. Becoming friends with Mia had been closer to the experience of climbing up a greased pole but, although Tash still had some way to go, she believed it would be worth it. Everyone else seemed to like and respect Mia. It couldn't be that they were all mistaken. Besides, the more she'd got to know everyone, the better she liked them.

And best of all, since their talk yesterday, Tash felt that she and Rich had never been stronger. She had never felt as close to him as she did last night. She had felt entirely complete, entirely fulfilled. She beamed to herself, bring it on. She and Rich were about to embark on a lifetime of love, respect and honesty. Life didn't get any better.

Tash swallowed back another slurp of dessert wine. She ought to go and find Mia and ask her if she would do a reading at the wedding. She'd go as soon as she finished this gla.s.s.

'Hi, I've been looking for you.' Tash looked up and grinned as she saw Jayne. Perfect. Company.

'I know. I got your notes. I'm sorry I didn't call you. I've had such a busy day. Come on, pull up a chair, I'll tell you all about it. Do you fancy a gla.s.s of wine? Or maybe champagne? I fancy champagne.' Tash giggled. 'I cannot believe I'll be married this time tomorrow.' Tash beamed at her friend. 'It's kind of just hit me. With all the drama about Ted and Kate and the, let's face it, the issues I've had with Mia, I'd almost forgotten why I'd come here.' Tash rolled her eyes, paused, thought back to the night before, then beamed at Jayne. 'But yesterday we boarded to Switzerland and we had the most romantic time.' Jayne sat down opposite, bolt upright and unsmiling. She didn't look like someone who was about to start a party. Tash paused, and then asked, 'Everything OK?'

'I have something very difficult to tell you, and I always think that with bad news it's best to get straight to the point, don't you?'

Jayne's eyes had changed. They were no longer smudgy, smiley and sincere, as Tash was sure they had been. They were flint-like and focused.

'What is it? Has there been an accident? My G.o.d, is it Rich?'

'No accident, but, yes, my bad news is about Rich.'

Something didn't compute. Tash couldn't understand. Bad news. Her friend was about to tell her some bad news, so shouldn't she be trying to look more sympathetic? Shouldn't she be touching her arm or something? Good G.o.d, was this news so awful that it blasted apart common conventions? Tash didn't know what to think.

'Tash, I really am frightfully sorry, but your wedding is off.' Jayne p.r.o.nounced the sentence in tight, clipped tones. She used her poshest accent. The one that she knew terrified shop a.s.sistants.

'What?' laughed Tash. 'What's the joke?' That's why Jayne had seemed unnatural. This wasn't real bad news; it was a joke, a poor-taste joke.

'No joke. Rich is having an affair.' Jayne shrugged, surely that was explanation enough.

'I don't believe you,' Tash said instantly.

She stared at Jayne, who stared right back. Tash searched her friend's face for some uncertainty, sympathy or sorrow, which surely ought to be the correct response if this ridiculous tale were true. She saw none. Jayne looked back with bored indifference.

'It is absolutely true.'

'There's some mistake. Or an explanation,' stumbled Tash.

Because, oh, G.o.d, this could not be true. Not Rich. Other men cheated on their girls and women, but her Rich would never do that to her, never. The waiter seemed to be lurching at her, then disappearing into the distance. The wine rack and the dessert trolley were out of focus. The red walls pulsed like an exposed heart. Tash felt trapped in a semiconscious state, not dissimilar to going under anaesthetic. She couldn't make sense of her world. Even as her heart and soul rejected the concept, her brain began to work overtime.

It could be true. Rich had a history of infidelity. What was so special about her, and her relationship, for her to imagine that she was immune? Why would Jayne make this up? She wouldn't, no one would. Besides Rich had been acting peculiarly recently. And where was he today? Why didn't he want to meet the registrar? Had he sent Jayne to do his dirty work? Was it Mia? Had her fears been founded? Her brain scolded her immature heart and soul. Her brain said it did make sense and that her heart and soul were foolish for trusting him.

'How do you know?' asked Tash. Please, G.o.d, she prayed, let it be gossip. Let it be hearsay that is unsubstantial and ultimately erroneous.

'Because it is me he is having an affair with.' Jayne held Tash's gaze, she refused to falter or apologize.

'You?'

Tash gasped and reached for her gla.s.s of water. She glugged it back and tried to breathe. But she couldn't. Something as simple as breathing, which she'd been doing for ever, was impossible. Tash could feel a debilitating pain in her gut. It throbbed with the same intensity that a st.i.tch did. It felt like those undefined pains that kids suffer from age between nine and fourteen her mother used to call them growing pains. Where was her mum? She needed her mum to ma.s.sage away this growing pain.

'We started sleeping together when I was sixteen and have been ever since.'

'Ever since?' Tash repeated uselessly. She didn't understand.

'He didn't know how to tell you.' Jayne stood up and walked out of the restaurant. She congratulated herself. She'd spent twenty-four hours perfecting that script and, really, she could not have delivered it better.

66. Jason's Reasoning.

'Christ, what a f.u.c.king mess,' said Rich.

'Yours or mine?' asked Jase.

'Yours,' said Rich, and then he added, 'Well, mine, too, obviously. f.u.c.k, who'd have thought it? Mia trying to get up the duff without telling you.' Jase had filled Rich in on the events of the night before, but Rich was still struggling to compute the facts. 'So, she wants a baby, yeah? With you?'

'No, not exactly with me. That's my point. She wants my baby, but not me.'

'f.u.c.k.'

'Couldn't put it better myself, mate.'

'She doesn't want your money?'

'I've told you, Rich, she wants nothing to do with me, not even my money.'

Jason was finding Rich's inability to grasp the situation a little frustrating. Jase had been grappling with it all night, yet he'd hoped that his pal would be a step ahead of him and manage to offer some words of wisdom. 'Do you want a beer?'

'No. I'll have an orange juice. I can't drink on top of this. It's too mad as it is.' Jason opened the mini-bar and pulled out two cans of Fanta. It was sickly, sweet stuff, but he figured they could both do with the sugar. Sugar was good for shock.

'I never knew she was lonely,' Jase sighed.

'I never knew she was maternal,' commented Rich.

'I never knew she rated me,' added Jase.

'Oh, I knew that,' said Rich, pleased that he had something over his pal. Even during moments such as this one, Rich's innate, testosterone-driven, compet.i.tive spirit was overwhelming.

'Did you?' Jason was thrilled and fearful at once.

'It's obvious, isn't it? You two were never happier than when you were together.'

'It hasn't been obvious to me. She's always taking the p.i.s.s out of me. She's always saying my job isn't a proper job and that I should use my talents to write a Booker Prize or something.'

'She's very proud of you.'

'If I had a pound for every time she's called me immature or objected to the company I keep, I'd be able to retire.'

'I'd have thought the fact that she doesn't like who you are k.n.o.bbing is evidence enough of her ardour, even to a numbskull like you.'

Jason thought about it. Rich might have a point.

'But she doesn't want me, does she? She wants my sperm.'

'I don't know, buddy, really I don't. Maybe she wants more.'

Jason stared at his best friend, and the importance of his words zapped through him, hitting him with laser speed and precision. Could Rich be right? He'd like him to be right. He'd like there to be the slightest glimmer of a possibility that he and Mia had a real chance at being a real couple. Maybe he had always known that no other woman ever came up to scratch in comparison to Mia. None of them was as quick, or witty, or as s.e.xy, or as demanding. Yes, he'd come across longer legs and firmer b.u.t.ts. He'd certainly come across more compliant, easygoing broads, but none of them excited him in the way Mia had, in the way Mia does. Was it possible that Rich was right? It seemed unlikely. He used to think Rich knew everything there was to know about women, but recently it was clear that Rich knew less than f.u.c.k-all.

'G.o.d, this is confusing.'

Jason sat on his bed with his legs spread wide, and hung his head. Rich sat on a chair, but he held a similarly defeated stance. They had sat together for most of the day. The late afternoon light tumbled through the windows. The sky remained resolutely, beautifully blue, and the mountains were lit with sunshine, yet the air of depression in the bedroom hung so thickly the boys felt they could taste it. The stylish interior decor could do nothing to banish the gloom. Besides, Jason's mess made the luxurious room appear cramped and chaotic, like a slightly sordid YMCA. Wet clothes littered the backs of chairs, emitting steam and stench, and lone trainers littered the floor looking for their partner. Jason breathed in, deeply. The only possible solution to this complex emotional issue was to ignore it. He turned his attention to Rich.

'So what's going on with you, the lovely Tash and the bunny boiler?'

'Well, I'd have liked to have stayed in Switzerland today. In fact, I wanted to get married in Switzerland, so that I could avoid Jayne until after the wedding,' said Rich.

Jason stared at him, amazed and amused.

'And that's it, is it? That's your plan? You are thirty-three. You have a degree from one of the finest universities in the country. You have twelve years' experience as a management consultant at one of the biggest and most strategically demanding firms in the world and that's the best you can come up with. You're just going to avoid Jayne for the rest of your days.'

'If at all possible, yes,' said Rich. He was a little uncomfortable with Jason's mocking tone.

'And are you going to intercept Tash's mail? So that if Jayne writes to her '

'Yes, if I have to.'

'And her calls?'

'Yes.'

'And are you going to keep her away for any social event where Jayne might be? Not to mention the possibility of stalking. I wouldn't put it past Jayne.'

'Yes, yes,' screamed Rich. He understood Jason's point.

'Mate, it's not going to work.' Rich looked at Jason as though he had struck a fatal blow. 'You are going to have to talk to Tash. By anyone's standards this is a big secret, but if you try to keep this from Tash and you are found out, which you will be, she'll never forgive you. Not with her 100 per cent honesty policy and all that.'

'You said if I bluffed it out I'd be OK.'

'That was before you went for a repeat performance and put your tongue down her throat and your hands down her bra.'

'Thanks, mate, you're a real comfort,' snarled Rich.

'I'm just telling you how it is. It's not me you're angry with.' No, Rich was angry with himself. How had he allowed this situation to escalate out of control? 'For what it's worth, I think Tash will forgive you.'

'You do?' Rich looked at Jason hopefully.

'She's besotted with you. Just tell her. She'll be mad, but she'll forgive you eventually.'

'You think so?'

'I'm sure. Go to her now, mate. Just get on with it. Don't be like me and Mia, don't let there be any crossed wires. Don't squander this opportunity. Go to her, before you're too late.'

67. Tash Packs.

Rich turned the lock in the door and walked into their suite.

Too late. He was already too late.

Tash had her back to him, and her suitcase lay wide open on the bed. Rich watched as Tash went to the wardrobe, took out some of her T-shirts, carefully folded them and put them in her case. Her actions were considered and precise. They were not the actions of a hysterical or rash woman. Rich knew that was worse for him.

'What are you doing?' he asked.

'Isn't it obvious? I'm packing,' said Tash, without turning around to look at him. Rich didn't ask why she was packing. It would be insulting to do so. It was obvious why. Because he was a moron, that's why. Because he'd f.u.c.ked up. Because he was incapable of sticking to one simple rule.

Tash didn't turn to Rich because he would see that she was crying. He would see hefty, ugly tears sliding down her cheeks and falling off her chin, splatting on to the clothes she was packing.

'I don't know what she's told you, but it isn't as bad as she's said. She's a liar.'

'In that case, you are well suited because you talk some s.h.i.t, too.'

Rich paused. The truth of the statement floored him. He did, it was true.

'She said you are lovers.' The word stuck in Tash's throat.

'We were.'