There was a girl called Elizabeth. A friend of Eddie. Someone with whom he had been to school, his best friend, who had opted for a job rather than university, and who had secured for herself the rather grand-sounding title of Marketing Assistant.
Eddie adored her. Throughout the first term we kept hearing about Elizabeth: Elizabeth this, Elizabeth that. How Elizabeth taught Eddie to smoke, and borrowed her parents’ car while they were away, and how at sixteen Elizabeth and Eddie were driving, drunk, all over town, piles of their schoolfriends hanging out of the sunroof.
Eddie admitted that when he first met her he had a huge crush on her, but then everybody did, he said. She was gorgeous. Far and away the most beautiful girl in school, and even at fourteen she was the talk of the sixth form.
Elizabeth began to take on mythical qualities. She was the elusive beauty that we had heard so much about, but none of us was entirely sure that she really existed, at least not in the way that Eddie had described.
We assumed that Eddie’s crush had blinded him to her actual attributes. We assumed she’d be pretty. Striking, even. But unassuming.
And then Eddie announced she was coming to stay for the weekend. He was giving up his bed, he said, and would be staying the night at Sarah’s so that Elizabeth would be comfortable.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Josh ribbed him. ‘Bet you’ll be sneaking back into your bed in the middle of the night, Sarah won’t be too happy about that.’ Sarah was not, at that stage, a permanent fixture, but we could see that Eddie had, up until this visit from the infamous Elizabeth, fallen for her.
Eddie looked shocked. ‘Absolutely not. I’d never dream of doing anything. You know how I feel about Sarah, and anyway Elizabeth is my friend. That’s all.’
We all caught Eddie’s excitement in the days before Elizabeth was due to arrive. All of us except Portia.
‘Don’t you want to meet this paragon of female loveliness?’ I asked her, and Jesus, how clear this memory is. I remember asking that question. I remember exactly where we were, and the memory is so strong I can suddenly smell it.
I can smell the old seaside café, perched on the side of one of the narrow cobbled streets running up from the beach. During term time it was filled with students, noisily chattering, shouting at one another, sitting for hours over one cup of coffee, but then during the holidays it was full of old ladies, scarves wrapped around their hair, gnarled fingers clutching iced buns.
I loved it best during the holidays. I loved staying there, seeing the town in a completely new light, feeling like a local rather than an unwanted student. I loved sitting in the café by myself, often with a book, but usually the book was only for show, enabling me to listen in on their conversations.
I remember that day with Portia. I was supposed to be at a lecture, but I skipped it, vowing to make up for it later. I remember queuing for two steaming mugs of sweet, milky tea, and debating whether to treat myself to a bun, but deciding against it because those were the days when I actually cared what I looked like.
Portia and I were sitting at a tiny table with our lighters precariously balanced on our packets of Marlboros, the air smelling of smoke, and freshly baked cakes, and salt from the sea. I remember being full of the joys of a flirtation with a boy called Sam, and telling Portia everything about the night before, in minute detail.
And, being Portia, she listened and laughed in all the right places, and encouraged me every step of the way, and when I had finished I said I couldn’t wait to meet Elizabeth. And Portia didn’t say anything.
‘You’re coming with, aren’t you?’ I asked, having told her that all of us were going with Eddie to the train station to pick her up. Portia shrugged.
‘Why wouldn’t you come?’
She shrugged again, then smiled suddenly. ‘I’m sure I will,’ she said brightly. ‘I’ve just got to go to the library, so I might have to miss the grand arrival.’
And it didn’t occur to me at the time that there might have been more to it.
‘What do you think she’s like?’ I giggled. ‘Do you think she’s as perfect as Eddie makes out?’
‘She’s probably a total bitch,’ Portia said, which seemed out of character and took me by surprise, but then I entered into the spirit of things.
‘Or hugely fat,’ I chuckled, mentally applauding myself for resisting the bun.
‘Yup. She’s probably put on ten stone since Eddie last saw her, eating for comfort now that he’s gone. Either that or she’s balding.’
I looked at Portia as if she were mad, and we both cracked up laughing.
Portia didn’t come with to pick up Elizabeth, and in the end neither did I. Josh took Eddie and Sarah, as he was the only one of us with a car, and I sat in the kitchen at home, waiting for them, and waiting for Portia to come back from the library.
I’d just made tea – which is all we ever seemed to do that year – when the front door opened and I heard a babble of voices. As soon as Josh and Eddie walked into the kitchen, I could see they were both in love. Their eyes were alight and they were laughing, excitement making their cheeks flushed. Right behind them in walked Elizabeth, and I understood what had caused their reaction.
She was, simply, gorgeous. Not in the way that Portia was, in a slightly imperious, untouchable way. Elizabeth was the classic girl next door, and as soon as she saw me she came over with a huge smile – whaddya know, perfect teeth – and I could see how the others had fallen under the spell she had cast.
Sarah had gone off to the library, but Josh whispered that even she seemed to think Elizabeth was lovely, and I remember being hugely impressed that she wasn’t racked with jealousy in the way that I’m sure I would have been had I been in her shoes.
Si came back from a drama rehearsal soon after, and it didn’t take long for her to work her magic on him, but the person who was quite clearly the most affected was Josh.
I hadn’t seen Josh like that before. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and as the afternoon progressed I began to notice that she started paying him more and more attention. It started with a few looks – her eyes would come to rest on him slightly more frequently than on the rest of us, and soon she was laying a hand on his arm, begging him to stop teasing her. Because this was the only way that Josh, at nineteen, knew how to flirt.
‘Isn’t she amazing?’ Si said, when we left to go to the corner shop and buy some more cigarettes.
‘I didn’t think I’d say this, but she is. I totally understand what Eddie was talking about. She’s just so nice, and natural, and funny! I’ve been in stitches all day.’
‘And gorgeous,’ Si said as we stamped down the street, our breath clearly visible in the crisp, cold air. ‘If I were straight she’d be my perfect woman.’
‘What about Portia?’
‘Nope.’ Si shook his head. ‘Portia’s beautiful, but there’s something impenetrable about her, something slightly cold. Elizabeth’s just so natural. Jesus, what’s Portia going to think of her?’
‘What do you mean?’ We went into the shop and picked up the cigarettes, milk, and a Pot Noodle for Si.
‘She’s going to hate her,’ he said smoothly. ‘She’ll be eaten up with jealousy.’
I stood stock-still and stared at him. ‘Portia? Jealous? Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Cath, she won’t be able to stand not being the centre of attention, and have you seen Josh? He’s practically salivating over her. I adore Portia, but I wouldn’t want to be the one pushing her off centre stage.’
‘But what do you think she’ll do?’
‘Dunno,’ Si said with a wicked smile, ‘but, whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll make bloody good material for my improv.’
When we got home Portia was there. She was sitting at the kitchen table, talking to Elizabeth, and, although I refused to admit that Si had been right, the atmosphere had definitely changed, and was I going crazy or did Portia suddenly seem to have a cold, flinty look in her eyes?
‘So what’s on the agenda for tonight, then?’ Si put his shoes on the table as he slurped his Pot Noodle.
‘We thought we’d do a pub crawl,’ Eddie said, looking at Elizabeth for her approval.
‘Sounds fantastic,’ she laughed. ‘Haven’t done a good pub crawl for ages.’
‘Elizabeth pissed is not a pretty sight,’ Eddie said as she hit him, but neither Portia nor I missed the fact that Josh had not joined in with the laughter, too busy gazing at Elizabeth’s lovely face.
Portia came downstairs at seven o’clock, and Si nudged me to turn and look at her as she stood in the hallway, shaking out her hair in the hall mirror.
‘See?’ he mouthed silently. ‘She’s dressed for battle.’
And she was. She was wearing a tight red dress that Josh once claimed gave him an instant orgasm just by looking at it, and what Si always referred to as her Fuck-me Shoes.
Si raised an eyebrow at me and I shook my head, because I really didn’t want to believe Si, but all the evidence was pointing to Portia being very definitely up to something. I just didn’t know what it was.
But it didn’t take me long to find out. Eddie had established that Elizabeth thought Josh was ‘cute’, and Josh didn’t need to say anything to anyone for his feelings to be established.
Eddie told us this with a mixture of pride and jealousy. Pride because Elizabeth was everything he had described, and so much more, and jealousy because it was absolutely clear that a part of him would always have a crush on her.
We started out at the King’s Head. Portia, as always, turned heads wherever we went, but Elizabeth was also generating a fair bit of attention, not just because of her undeniable looks, but because there was a sweetness about her, and of course it may simply have been that she was fresh blood.
Nothing happened until we hit the club. At every pub we’d been to Josh had sat next to Elizabeth, and by the fifth pub they only seemed to have eyes for each other. Eddie shrugged resignedly, and Si and I just sat quietly, watching the blank look on Portia’s face, wondering whether she would dare to say anything to Elizabeth.
Because of course Josh had always had a thing for Portia. From the moment we had all met, right through the first year, and on through the second. It had become a standing joke in our group, and even Josh was quite happy to be teased about it. Portia knew, and he knew that Portia knew, and he’d accepted that it was never going to happen. He used to joke with Portia, saying, ‘A guy can dream, can’t he?’
But the strange thing was that out of all of us, Josh and Portia seemed to make the best match. Josh might have come across as a bit of an upper-class twit at times, but underneath he had a heart of gold, and he was the only one who came from a background that was similar to Portia’s.
Up until that night, Portia had always laughed when Si and I teased her about Josh’s unrequited crush, saying that Josh was far too nice for her, but tonight I could see that she couldn’t deal with another woman in the picture.
And sure enough, in the last pub we went to, the last one before hitting the local nightclub, Portia literally shoved Elizabeth out of the way, sidled up next to Josh and started whispering things in his ear, her coat flung casually on the seat to prevent Elizabeth from coming close.
Poor Josh looked as if he’d been hit by a truck. Stunned. Here was the woman he’d lusted after coming on to him for the first time in his life, and yet here was this other woman, who was also gorgeous, who simply didn’t know how to deal with Portia.
Elizabeth sat quietly next to Sarah, and Si tried to act as if everything were normal, even while Portia did her Mata Hari impersonation. In other words, as Si put it later, acting like a complete bitch.
As soon as we walked into the club, Elizabeth went to the toilet and I joined her to tame my hair and put on some more lipstick just in case Sam should walk in the door.
‘Are you coming?’ I asked Portia, but she shook her head with a smile and followed the others to the bar.
‘Josh is lovely, isn’t he?’ Elizabeth said, as she washed her hands. ‘Eddie thought that I’d love you all, but he never mentioned how gorgeous Josh was.’
‘He obviously likes you too,’ I said, smiling, as she turned to look at me.
‘Is there something going on with him and Portia, though? Eddie said absolutely not, but I feel like she’s defending her territory or something.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Portia’s fine, she’s just not used to you, that’s all, and no, there’s nothing going on between her and Josh,’ and we left to go back into the club.
Elizabeth saw it first. I heard this little gasp, and I turned to look at what she was looking at, and there was Portia. Well, Portia and Josh. Locked together in a passionate embrace in the middle of the dance floor, Portia entwined around him like a snake.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off them, not least because I had never seen Portia do this, she wasn’t a believer in public displays of affection, and it was an extraordinary sight, to see such blatant passion in public.
I knew Elizabeth was walking away, and I know I should have gone after her, but then Eddie and Sarah were tearing past me to reach her, and I found myself walking over to Si, never taking my eyes off Josh and Portia.
‘See?’ he said gravely, having to shout into my ear above the loud din of the Housemartins. He tried to look shocked, but the Gossip inside him was completely loving this drama. ‘Told you so.’
I watched as Portia and Josh finally broke apart, and I could see that Josh, while thrilled to have finally got together with Portia, was also completely bemused. He looked like a little boy lost, whereas Portia was positively triumphant.
She led him to our table by the hand and picked up a triple vodka, downing it in one before reaching up and whispering something into Josh’s ear, sucking Josh’s earlobe as Si kicked me hard under the table.
‘Where are the others?’ she shouted above the din.
‘Where do you think, Portia?’ Si said, and Portia smiled, as a flash of what I swear must have been guilt passed over Josh’s face.
‘Oh well. May the best woman win,’ she said, picking up another vodka before dragging Josh over to the dance floor and wrapping herself up in his arms.
That night we all got drunk, but what I do remember quite clearly, even to this day, was lying in bed and hearing Elizabeth’s quiet sobbing coming from Eddie’s room next door, and the rhythmic creaking of Josh’s bed upstairs.
That old Victorian terraced house wasn’t built to hide feelings of betrayal, of jealousy, of misplaced passion, but I hadn’t known that until that night.
I remember hearing Portia’s soft moans, and feeling like a voyeur, even though I couldn’t see anything. I remember pulling the duvet over my head to block out the noise, and eventually falling into a dreamless sleep.
Elizabeth had gone by the time I woke up. Eddie had left to take her to the station, and Si was already up, watching children’s television with a plate of greasy fried eggs and toast balanced on his knees.
‘What a night,’ he said, in between mouthfuls. ‘I could hardly sleep with all that noise.’
‘Is she okay do you know? Elizabeth?’
Si shrugged. ‘Not particularly, but I’m sure she’ll get over it. Eddie’s taken her to the station. She couldn’t face spending the weekend here, apparently, so she’s gone.’
‘How’s Eddie about all of this?’
‘Upset because Elizabeth’s upset, and because he doesn’t understand what was going on last night. He knew that Josh liked Elizabeth and that Elizabeth liked Josh, and he said he knew they were going to get it together and he didn’t mind at all. Actually, he said he was bloody pleased it was Josh.
‘But most of all he doesn’t understand what happened with Josh and Portia. One minute they were just walking in the club, and the next Portia and Josh were all over each other, and Eddie says he doesn’t understand it.’
‘God, poor Elizabeth. I have to say I don’t really understand it either.’
‘You’re not serious?’ Si looks at me in amazement as I shrug. ‘Cath, don’t be thick. Portia’s chosen us as her friends because we’re all a bit in love with her. She has to be the centre of attention, and she couldn’t stand the threat that Elizabeth posed.
‘It was bad enough that we all thought Elizabeth was fantastic, but the one thing she absolutely couldn’t cope with would have been if Josh and Elizabeth had ended up together.’
‘For one night? What’s the big deal about them spending one night together?’
‘Because,’ Si said slowly, ‘it might not have been one night. One night would have been fine, but what if Elizabeth and Josh had turned out to be an item? What if Elizabeth started coming up here every weekend to see Josh? What then? She had to sabotage it. She didn’t have a choice.’
‘Of course she had a choice,’ I said defensively, ‘and anyway, Portia’s not a bitch. I can’t believe she’d do that.’
‘So you think that Portia coming on to Josh last night was just a coincidence, and that she’s secretly been harbouring a massive crush on him for years, but now that she’s finally found the courage to do something about it, they’re going to live happily ever after?’
‘They might.’
‘Cath, I promise you that this is not a situation that will be repeated. Portia slept with Josh to make sure he stays in love with her, and, providing he does, she’ll never sleep with him again. It’s definitely a one-night stand between them. Trust me,’ he sighed. ‘I’m the expert.’
And, sure enough, it was a one-night stand. Of course Portia didn’t say that. She said that she adored Josh, had always fancied him too, but that they were better off as friends. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if they got involved and then it ended, and she lost him as a friend.
I think Josh was bewildered by the whole thing: he just nodded mutely and seemed to agree with everything she was saying. And after that everything changed. Josh was bewildered, hurt and confused, and the worst thing was that she didn’t just destroy him, she destroyed all of us.
She destroyed our friendships, and, although we tried to forgive her, she’d somehow driven a wedge into the heart of our group, and things really were never quite the same after that.
For a while we still tried, even though we didn’t trust her any more. We were still sharing a house, and Portia would make coffee in the mornings and bring it into my bedroom, curl up at the end of my bed like the old days, but then we never ran out of things to talk about.
A stiffness hung in the air, imbued our conversation with a peculiar formality, and after a while it became more and more difficult to look one another in the eye.
‘Where will you be living?’ she asked, as we were packing up the house, graduating, getting ready to start our real lives in London.
‘With some old school friends,’ I lied, knowing that Portia would realize I was lying but not really caring. I pretended to be busy folding knickers so I didn’t have to look at her. ‘Natasha and Emily. You don’t know them.’
I never asked her where she was going to be living. As it turned out, she ended up renting a tiny flat by herself, which I suppose is exactly what she would have done, given that I had, quite clearly, made other plans.
Eddie moved to Manchester, still unable to forgive Portia for hurting Elizabeth as much as she did, and Josh and Si moved to London with me.
All of us had huge plans, but, as we tried to forge ahead with our careers, we drifted further and further apart from Portia. Suddenly I realized that I hadn’t spoken to her in over three years. None of us had.
I had heard she was living in Clapham. I was in West Hampstead by that time, as were Josh and his wife, Lucy, and Si was in Kilburn, so I knew that with the North/South divide it was unlikely we’d see each other by chance.
She’d gone into journalism, and after a while I gathered she’d joined the Standard. I’d see her by-line first in tiny letters, and then gradually bigger and bigger, eventually accompanied by a picture in which she looked absolutely stunning.
I was working in advertising. I started as an account executive for a big, buzzy trendy ad agency that had recently scooped armfuls of awards, and I loved it. And every night I’d get on the tube with my copy of the Standard and look out for Portia’s pieces, savouring every word of my former friend, who was now almost famous.
But then, about two years ago, her by-line disappeared. I went through a stage of buying every single paper for a couple of weeks, just in case her name should pop up somewhere else, but it never did, and after a while I gave up.
Josh and Lucy, and Si, were, are, my closest friends. Eddie is married to Sarah, and has become a hot-shot director for a television company, so we don’t see him very often, but he comes down to stay from time to time. Apparently he remains in touch with Elizabeth. She was at their wedding four years ago, as lovely as she had been back then, but even after all these years she avoided us.
Si is still on the hunt for the perfect man, as indeed was I up until a few years ago, but I’ve given up now, particularly given that Si is the perfect date for those social and work occasions I can’t face on my own.
The funny thing is, if you had asked me whether we would all be friends ten years after graduating from university, I would have said yes, but only if Portia were included, because she was the star around which we all revolved. Yet even without her, it works.
We do talk about her, though. Do still miss her. They say time heals all wounds, but I find myself missing her more as the years go by. Not less.
Josh has a friend who was a journalist on the Standard, and it seems she’d left to write a book. Josh said she was still single and was now living in Maida Vale. I remember feeling a pang when I heard that. Maida Vale. Up the road. I could bump into her at Waitrose. Or drive past her in Swiss Cottage. Or maybe I’d see her having a coffee in West End Lane.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see her. I did, it’s just that the more time passed, the harder it was to pick up the phone and call her. Then a few more years went by, and my career took off. I had relationships, and flings, and my wonderful friends, particularly Si, and they all conspired to fill the void that Portia had left all those years before. Gradually I stopped thinking about Portia as much, although if I’m honest she was always there, in the back of my mind.
Once I thought I saw her. I was grabbing a coffee in the West End, and, as I turned to leave, out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn I saw Portia walking past, rounding the corner. She had such a distinctive stride, and all that mahogany hair. If it was her, she looked amazing, far more stylish than before, but I wasn’t sure, and I was in too much of a hurry to follow. And even if I had gone after her, what would I have said?