Remember Me?
Page 67

“Ah!” he says, sounding pleased. “I've just won a case of '88 Lafite Rothschild at auction.” 270 “Wow!” I say enthusiastically. “Well done, darling!” “Eleven hundred quid,” he continues. “Bit of a steal.” Eleven hundred quid?
“For... how many bottles?” I ask. “A case.” He frowns as though it's obvious. “Twelve.” I can't speak. Eleven hundred quid for twelve bottles of wine? I'm sorry, that's just... wrong. Does he know how much eleven hundred quid is? I could buy a hundred bottles of wine for that. And they'd still be posh ones. And I'd have money left over. “Lexi, are you okay?” “I'm fine.” I come to. “Just thinking... what a great deal!” With a final gulp of tea I put on my jacket and pick up my briefcase. “Bye, darling.” “Bye, sweetheart.” Eric comes over and we kiss each other good-?bye. It's aaually starting to feel quite natural. I shrug on my jacket and am at the door when something hits me. “Hey, Eric,” I say as casually as possible. “What's... Mont Blanc?” “Mont Blanc?” Eric turns, his face searching mine in disbelief. “You're kidding. Do you remember Mont Blanc?” Okay. I really fell into this one. I can't say “No, Jon told me.” “I don't remember, exactly,” I improvise. “But the name 'Mont Blanc' came back to me, and it seemed significant, somehow. Does it mean something... special?” “You'll find out, darling.” I can see the suppressed pleasure in Eric's face. “It'll all come back to you. I won't say any more for now. This has to be a good sign!” “Maybe!” I try to match his excitement. “Well...see you later!” I head out of the kitchen, racking my brain. Mont Blanc. Skiing? Those posh fountain pens? A great big snowy mountain?
I have absolutely no idea. I get off the tube at Victoria, buy a bagel, and nibble it as I walk along. But as I get near the office, I'm suddenly not hungry anymore. I have a nasty churning in my stomach. That kind of sinking, I-?don't-?want-?go-?to-?school sensation. Fi might be my friend again, but no one else is. And I messed up in front of Simon Johnson, and I still don't feel on top of anything... As the building comes in sight I stop, heavy with dread. Come on, I tell myself firmly. It'll be fun. No, it won't. Well, okay, it won't. But I don't have any choice. Summoning all my determination, I chuck the rest of the bagel in a bin and push my way through the main glass doors. I head straight up to my office without bumping into anyone, sit down, and pull my pile of papers toward me. As I do so, I notice the Post-?it I wrote yesterday: Discuss sales with Byron. Maybe I'll do that now. I lift the phone to dial his extension, but put it down again when there's a knock at the door. “Hello?” “Hi, Lexi?” Debs edges her way into the room. She's wearing a turquoise beaded cardigan and denim skirt, and holding an envelope. “Oh,” I say apprehensively. “Hi, Debs.” “How are you?” She sounds awkward. “I'm... fine.” The door widens to reveal Fi and Carolyn, both looking ill at ease too. “Hi!” I exclaim in surprise. “Is everything okay?” “I told them what you told me,” says Fi. “Last night we went out for a drink and I told them.” “We didn't realize,” says Debs, looking worried. “We 272 didn't give you a chance. We just assumed you were still...” She casts around for the word. “A power-?crazed nightmare,” supplies Carolyn, deadpan. “We feel bad.” Debs bites her lip as she looks at the others. “Don't we?” “Don't worry.” I force a smile. But all of a sudden, as I regard the three of them, I feel more lonely than ever. These were my mates; we were always a foursome. But now they've had three years of nights out and talking and laughs that I've missed out on. They're banded together in a trio and I'm the stranger.
“So, I just wanted to give you this.” Debs advances toward the desk, her face pinkening, and hands me the envelope. I rip it open and pull out a stiff white engraved card. A wedding invitation. “Hope you can come.” Debs has shoved her hands into her pockets. “You and Eric.” I feel a rush of humiliation. Her body language is obvious. The last thing she wants is us at her wedding. “Look, Debs, you don't have to ask me. It's really kind of you...” I'm trying to stuff the card back into the envelope, my face hot. “But I know you don't really” “Yes, I do.” She puts her hand on mine, stopping me, and I look up. Her eyes are just the same as they ever were deep blue with long mascaraed lashes. “You were one of my best friends, Lexi. I know things changed. But... you should be there.” “Well... thanks,” I mumble at last. “I'd love to come.” I turn the invitation over, running a finger over the engraving. “How did you get your mother to agree to such a late guest?”