Juan’s friend didn’t make her mine, but since his death she had made a huge effort to “look after” me. The fact I didn’t reciprocate hadn’t dampened her ardor. “We understand each other,” she’d say, “we’re from the same world.” And I’d think, No, Pippa, we are not from the same world. You have no idea who I am. No idea at all.
Pippa worked as a freelance journalist—hard to keep at bay and dangerous to know. The last thing I needed was Pippa squeezing information out of me. She was clever; asked too many questions. I hadn’t bargained on bumping into her today.
Rifling through her Prada bag and taking out some ChapStick, which she applied to her generous lips, she said, “How are you, darling?” Her eyes raked down my body with scrutiny. Pippa was always comparing other women’s bodies to her own. She was probably envious that I’d lost a few pounds, or thought I was too scrawny and needed fattening up.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “Doing great.”
She gave me the “Poor you” look.
“Honestly, I’m doing really well,” I said. “Can’t mope around, got to get on with life, you know.”
“It’s been tough, hasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “It has.”
“You must be so lonely up there in that massive see-through house. Especially at night. Have you thought of selling?”
“No,” I said flatly.
“What about getting a dog?”
I was almost tempted to tell Pippa about the drone and the text, but I laid my tongue gently between my front teeth and squeezed till it hurt, to stop myself blabbing information I’d regret later. “I can’t, Pippa. I’ve told you before. Allergies, remember? I can’t do dogs or cats, as much as I’d love to.”
“What about a poodle, darling, or a Labradoodle or whatever they’re called?”
“It’s not about the fur type, it’s the dander,” I explained, my voice stonier than I wished.
“Don’t you get scared living up on that cliff, all alone?”
“That’s what my mother always asks me. But no, not really, although lately…” I halted the rest of my sentence.
“What? What were you going to say?”
“Just—well, I actually had in mind to buy a handgun today but then thought better of it. I’d need to learn how to shoot first, and the whole idea scares the crap out of me.”
She laughed. “I know what you mean, darling. I did a couple of classes once, years ago. Thought it was fun, you know, the thrill of having the ‘right to bear arms’ and stuff. Even bought myself a little pocket Smith & Wesson. Then I regretted it. Kept meaning to take the gun back to the shop and get my money back, but I lost the receipt. So it just drives around with me in the car, sitting in the glove compartment. Actually, it’s still in the old Toyota—I’m too scared to even touch it. English girls and guns don’t really mix, do they, darling?”
“Not so much.”
“Never did bring that pistol into the house, felt it might jinx things, you know, attract a burglar or something.” Pippa made a pyramid with the tips of her fingers. Then she fastened her eyes on mine, her smile replaced all of a sudden by the sad, “Poor you” look again. “You can’t get him off your mind, can you?”
My cheeks flushed, and I heard my own breathing, hot in my ears. “I’d rather not talk about Juan, if you don’t mind.”
“Course. Sorry.”
It always annoyed me that Pippa felt she had carte blanche when it came to discussing Juan, simply because they had been old friends. Somewhere between the lines I read a different message: had they dated? He always denied it, but even if they were romantically involved, it didn’t matter. Pippa thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread and never held back letting me know her feelings. I bet she wondered what gorgeous Juan ever saw in plain little me.
We sat in silence. Just the bustle of people walking by, the clicking of expensive heels, the bark of a happy dog with its owners, another couple sickeningly in love. The woman had a newborn in her arms. The baby was wearing pink, the same blush-pink as my sweater. I followed them wistfully with my gaze and pushed back the lump in my throat.
“I bet you really pine for him,” Pippa went on.
I stared at her. Why was she tormenting me? Why was she so fixated on the husband I’d lost?
I observed her with her long slim face. Smiling away. She was one of those