Betrayal Wearing a Friendly Face
That winter, as if auditioning for a Christmas film, had outdone itself: the pavements and gardens outside looked straight out of a snow globe. Fat, fluffy flakes danced endlessly from the sky, piling up on tiled rooftops and suburban cul-de-sacs, while a sharp chill made every breath feel like you were sipping a particularly brisk gin and tonic.
Inside Evie and Georges flat, however, it was altogether a different climate. With the windows shut tight against the frost, their living room radiated that very British brand of cosiness the sort thats just a little bit smug. The standard lamp glowed gently in the corner, creating one of those golden pools of light that makes you reluctant to ever move from the sofa.
There they were, hunkered down in matching jumpers, swaddled under a particularly robust blanket from Marks & Spencer, watching a cheerful family comedy that neither of them was really invested in. Evies lips quirked occasionally at a private joke, while George sat beside her, intermittently transfixed by the snow falling outside, lost to the plot but not the ambience.
Precisely as the heroine on the screen tripped over a Yorkshire terrier for the fourth time, Georges phone trilled for attention. He ignored it once, then a second time, but inevitably it insisted. With a sigh that spoke of deep, unspoken disputes with technology, he fished his mobile from his jeans. He eyed the screen and heaved another sigh.
Guess who Will again, he muttered to Evie. Third call tonight. I swear hes like an overzealous debt collector.
Evie barely glanced up. Hes probably still on about his new cottage in Dorset you know, keeps insisting we come and help him christen it. She rolled her eyes; theres always one mate who doesnt register the word no.
Giving in to the guilt, George answered. Hey Will, mate all right?
George! When are you two coming down? Ive lit the Aga, the proseccos chilling, the gang are turning up don’t be dull! Evie there too? Bring her! Well all have a hoot!
George looked at Evie, who dispatched a silent dont even think about it head shake. The prospect of Wills taste in rustic parties endless rounds of charades, someone inevitably breaking out a guitar, and slim odds of escaping before midnight hardly set their hearts aflutter. What they wanted was peace, quiet, and another biscuit.
Id love to, honestly, George began, preparing to embellish, but… Evies nipped up to her mums for a couple of nights. Didnt want to leave me behind but, you know, cant argue with family priorities. Itll have to be next time, mate.
A short pause, and Wills enthusiasm tempered to confusion, then a sly tone. Oh? Whens she back, then?
Tomorrow night, touch wood, George replied, layering on some melancholic bravado. Had all sorts planned, you know. Cosy Chinese, bit of ice skating, finally catching up on that theatre show but hey, thats married life, isnt it? Next weekend, maybe, unless were elbows-deep in Netflix.
Will gave a skeptical, Righto… well, keep me posted, yeah?
Will do, mate. Promise.
George placed his phone firmly face-down and exhaled with relief. That mans persistence could make the Queen change her mind, he groaned. Any more keen and hed have his own mothership. Id rather spend the weekend with you, watching films and not talking to anyone, frankly.
Evie snuggled closer. The lamp hummed quietly, the black-and-white film plodded amiably on, and the world outside stayed steadfastly cold and remote just as they liked it.
Same here, Evie replied softly, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Lets just stay in, yeah? No obligations, not even the dog to walk.
George grinned and squeezed her shoulders. In his minds eye he could already see the both of them dozing off together under that world-class blanket with only the wind for company.
And then Will called back.
George scowled at the phone, now vibrating with the urgency of a tax inspector. With forced politeness, he answered. Will, look mate, honestly
But Wills tone had changed. George, listen, Im at The Crystal Lounge. Popped in before heading back and mate, you wont believe this, but Evies here. With some bloke. Honestly, theyre hanging off each other. I only butted in because she told you she was at her mums, right? Well, shes clearly been spinning you a story.
George just gawked at the phone then at Evie, who was, contrary to rumours, sitting right beside him and looking faintly insulted by the accusation.
You sure? George pressed, disbelief thick in his voice. Because unless Evies mastered teleportation or cloning herself, Im fairly confident she hasnt nipped out to Soho without me noticing.
Will, undeterred, insisted. Swear on me mum. Shes tipsy, mate. Practically on this blokes lap. And shes being right cheeky, too pretending not to know me! Want me to put her on?
Exasperated but now somewhat morbidly curious, George replied, Go on then. Lets see this party trick.
A chorus of bass and laughter burst through the phones speaker. A woman, sounding alarmingly like Evie after a few gins, barked, Whos this, then?
George flicked a bewildered glance at Evie, who looked scandalised and more than a bit spooked.
Evie? George asked, trying for calm and failing.
A cynical cackle came in reply. Oh, George, give it a rest! Im out, having a laugh for once. Tired of being boring with you. Im going to let my hair down, all right?
My Evie, her face white as the snow outside, shot bolt upright. That is not me! How does that person even know my name or yours? Whos putting her up to this?
George tried to keep a lid on his temper. Where are you, then?
Oh dont get all possessive. Im not here to clock in like a bank teller. Ill do what I want.
More raucous laughter rang out, then Will piped in, See, George? Shes not even bothered
Enough! George snapped, voice trembling. Ill deal with this properly tomorrow. Dont call again.
He ended the call, lobbed the phone to the far end of the sofa, and stared at the ceiling with the wild-eyed incredulity of someone trying to remember if theyd locked the front door twice. If Evie hadnt been right there, he chuckled bitterly to himself, hed probably have believed the whole circus.
Evie slumped back, blinking at him. I mean the voice really is a bit like mine. Is this some student prank? Who would go to this much effort to wind us up?
No clue, George said slowly, scrubbing his hair into an even greater state of disarray. But thats not coincidence. Whoever it is must know us. Will, of all people, seemed awfully sure it was you. If youd actually been out, Id have started wondering myself.
Evie shook her head, pale but resolute. George took her hand, squeezing gently. I know you, he said, calm at last. You wouldnt mess me around like that. Someones gone to a lot of trouble to cause havoc, but Ill get to the bottom of it. If I need to, Ill call the club and ask for security footage. Lets see who our mystery impersonator really is.
She relaxed a fraction, clutching his hand as if it were the last decent mug of tea in the house.
I just who would do this? And why?
Good question, George replied. Hed stopped looking lost now he looked determined. With a squeeze of her hand, he assured her, Well sort it out together.
*******************************
The next morning, with the snow still staging its Mills & Boon impression, Evie was at the kitchen table sipping tea, half-reading work emails, when Wills name flashed up on her phone. She hesitated in the cold light of day, the whole business seemed even more absurd but curiosity won.
Morning, Will said all hesitant, like hed stepped on a dogs paw by accident. Reckon youve spoken to George by now, yeah?
Evies spine stiffened. If Will wanted to play games, shed match him. She feigned a sigh. Yeah, we had a bust-up. He said Id been lying that he caught me out not that I understand what he thinks Ive done!
There was a pause so theatrical you could have charged for tickets. When Will spoke again, his tone had a snaky undercurrent smug, like someone hoping to catch you out in a pub quiz.
Well, you know Ive said it all along, havent I? George never appreciated you. Never realised what he had.
Evies tea cooled further. She chose her words with care, neutral but probing. Oh? What are you getting at, Will?
Now Will dropped his voice, adopting his best impression of a dodgy East End love scene. Just that you deserve better, Evie! Ive always fancied you, all right? Actually, I think I love you. If you ever want out of things with George, Ill be there. You can do so much better than him.
Evie very nearly snorted into her Earl Grey. So that was it.
She took a breath and answered, ice-cold but calm. Will thats quite enough. I love George. Well sort this out ourselves. And do me a favour dont meddle where youre not wanted.
Will apparently wasnt listening, detouring now into the realm of wild accusation. Its just George, hes been talking about wanting to break up with you, thats all. Hes just waiting for a reason. I want you to be safe, you know?
Evie gripped the phone so tight she could have cracked the screen. Will. For your information, I was at home last night. And for another, you orchestrated that whole little stunt at the club, didnt you? That was a set-up.
A beat. Then Will blustered, What are you on about?
Evie laid it out, not even bothering to soften the blow. You roped in a lookalike. Gave her a script, used your imagination, tried to break us up. Anything ringing a bell?
A heavy silence. Then Wills voice cracked, loud and desperate. Yeah, fine! I did. Because I love you, Evie! Im the one who treats you like you deserve. Ill look after you, ruin you for all those other blokes just give me a chance!
Evie laughed, if you could call it that sharp and bitter, like a lemon left too long on the windowsill. Will, you, take care of me? You? The commitment-phobic serial dater who never calls anyone back? I wouldnt touch you with a barge pole even if the rest of England ran out of men!
That landed. Will, now faintly pathetic, mumbled, I thought I thought if you and George split, youd come round to the idea. Ive tried forgetting you, but none of them measured up. Id treat you like a queen, Evie. Just think about it.
She was having none of it. After all this? Youve lost the plot, mate. Youve betrayed my trust and Georges. For what? Your own little fantasy?
Wills last attempt at contrition sounded about as genuine as a politicians apology. Evie please, lets just
No, Will. Its over. Dont ever call me again. And Ill be sharing this conversation with George, just so were clear.”
She ended the call, set down her phone and looked out of the window. The snow was still falling, oblivious to human shenanigans and the tangled webs we weave.
George, appearing in the doorway, caught her expression and knew something was up.
So? he asked, worry flickering behind his words.
She looked at him, then let a wry smile slip through. He confessed. It was all him. Will tried to break us up so he could pounce with declarations of undying love. Offered me his cottage in Dorset, his vinyl record collection the works. What a piece of work, eh?
George slumped into the seat beside her, grasping her hand with that lovely, solid, youre-my-person sort of grip. So he never really was a mate. I always wondered but, well. We know where we stand now.
Evie leaned her head on his shoulder. There was no drama, just a curious sort of relief, like noticing youd left your brolly at the shops, then remembering you didnt like it anyway. Well, at least we wont have to come up with excuses next time one of those dreadful barbecues crops up. We can simply say, someone Id rather never see again will be there count us out!
George chuckled; the tension in the air evaporated like a kettle finally boiled dry. Just us, our films, and more biscuits than sense.
Lets not move until spring, she replied contentedly, tugging the blanket tighter around them both.
So there they stayed just two people with their films, their tea, and the knowledge that their tiny world was, despite the nonsense outside, warm and secure. Here, in this pocket of amber light, it didnt matter who whispered what in nightclubs or meddled behind their backs. The only things that counted were trust, a good cuppa, and the reassurance that tomorrow would be just as ordinary and lovely as today.
****************************
Meanwhile, in a less cheerful kitchen across town, Will was having a standoff with his own mug of cold tea. He couldnt remember his last sip; the words Dont ever call me again replayed on a loop, more annoying than the Radio 1 jingle.
But remorse? Not really his colour. Instead, he felt a kind of bruised rage, pacing the lino, nearly knocking over a packet of Hobnobs in the process.
Whys it always them? he finally shouted at nobody in particular, brushing crumbs from the counter in a fit.
The previous evening unfurled, detail by mortifying detail: how hed texted Marina, the girl hed met at Nandos who had the same haircut and voice as Evie, and convinced her to play the part of Drunken Evie at The Crystal Lounge. Shed been only too pleased to help him wind up his so-called friends. For one fleeting moment, Will was sure absolutely sure! that Evie would see Georges supposed failings and turn her affections to him.
But now? One cold shoulder and a never call again later, and all he had was an empty kitchen, an empty mug, and crumbs in all the wrong places.
He pressed his forehead to the icy window, watching the snow drift down, and muttered bitterly, Why does George end up with her? Im the better man. If only she saw it.
He knew what hed lost, and not just Evie. George, the one friend who always had his back, was gone for good. But rather than self-reflection, Will found a new kernel of dissatisfaction a stubborn little voice whispering, They think theyve won, but I know the truth. Someday, Evie might realise what shes missed.
As the snow continued to fall, Will crumpled up Marinas old script, lobbed it in the bin, and faced the wintry scene alone, haunted not by what hed done, but by what he still believed he deserved.
Someone elses comfort, trust, and warm blanket of belonging all of it, he thought, rightfully his.
