“I went to pick you up, to find you sitting outside the bar you were at crying about how you’d been making out with a pretty girl. Oh – and your wallet and your oyster card were in your pocket.”

  “I woke up when Darcy got up to go and get you,” Lizzy said, giggling away. “You rang me again after Darcy left, asking for girl advice.”

  “Dear Lord,” I breathed, letting my head sink onto the table.

  “If I remember rightly…” She screwed up her face into what was probably meant to be a crying, drunken me. “‘Lizzy, she was just so beautiful and she smelled really good and we made out and it was really fun but I made out with a stranger who was drunk and I don’t know if I can live with myself.’ Turns out drunk Will is very concerned with his morals.”

  I groaned. “Kill me now.”

  “So I picked you and Jay up and drove you home,” Darcy finished. “You know, I’ve never heard someone slut-shame themselves quite so much, Will.” She was starting to see the funny side now, although I’m sure that if I made even the slightest allusion to it being entertaining I would be treated to a lecture on responsible drinking.

  “I hate you both,” I said as I finished my breakfast, dumping my plate and mug into the sink. “But I love you. Thank you for not letting me die. Now, I’m going back to bed.”

  When I got back to my room Jay was sitting up in bed, scrolling through their phone. They nodded blearily at me as I came in and throw myself face first onto the bed.

  “Is your flatmate mad at me?” they asked.

  I grunted incoherently into my duvet before rolling over so I was facing the ceiling. “Nah. Mad at me, I think, but she’s seeing the funny side of it. Apparently, I was crying about a girl I made out with when she picked us up.”

  “Sounds about right,” said Jay. “Was that at the gay bar or the straight bar?”

  I sat up, puzzled. “We went to a straight bar?”

  They pulled a face, clearly trying to recall the facts. “I think so. The gay bar kicked us out when I started dancing.”

  “Since when are you not meant to dance in bars?”

  “Yeah, in the bars. Not on the bars.”

  I squinted, trying to remember. “Oh, yeah. Was that before or after the shots?”

  “After the second round, before the third.”

  Ouch. No wonder I was feeling so terrible.

  I turned onto my side, propping my head up on my elbow. “Do you feel better, though?”

  “What?” They turned to look at me, confused. “I feel like shit, Will.”

  “I know,” I quickly amended. “I mean… well, it was kind of obvious you needed the distraction.”

  Jay didn’t say anything, instead staring at a patch of wall somewhere above my right ear.

  “As destructive post-break-up behaviour goes, it wasn’t too bad,” I reassured them. “Everyone needs that sort of thing once in a while, you know? And it was fun.”

  They nodded, smiling sadly. “Yeah, it was. But maybe not to be repeated for a few weeks. Now that we’re old and we’re proper graduated adults, we have to think about our livers.”

  “Yeah,” I said, laughing. “You know, we should have a party at your new place. And by party, I mean we play Monopoly with shots, because it has been way too long since we played that.”

  “Hell yeah,” said Jay. “And thanks for the painkillers, by the way.”

  “Pretty sure that was Lizzy. Darcy’s girlfriend,” I added at their look of confusion. “She’s the more… spontaneous one in the relationship.”

  They grinned. “So… the fun one?”

  “Hey, Darcy can be fun!” I said indignantly, betraying it slightly by laughing.

  “Sure. You know what does sound fun, though? Free rent.”

  I rolled my eyes, throwing my head back. “Don’t remind me! We have this debate at least once a fortnight.”

  “You are the only person I know who would complain about free rent,” said Jay.

  “Seriously? So you wouldn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about sponging off your best friend for six years?”

  “I thought I was your best friend?”

  “You share the position.”

  “Whatever. You know – I could use a new flatmate. Although I expect some financial contribution, so I expect you wouldn’t be interested.”

  “No!” I said quickly. “I mean, yes! If – if you mean it. I love these guys but, you know…”

  “Wait, you’re – you’re serious? You’re spreading your wings and flying the nest?”

  I would resent the implication of Darcy being like a parent, but it wasn’t like they were exactly wrong. “Something like that, yeah. The time’s right, especially now Lizzy’s moved in. They’ll be engaged within the year, and they’ll want to have their own place, especially after Jordan’s graduated and isn’t back here every few weeks. I think Darcy’s been looking at houses further out from the city centre and everything. They don’t know this, but I overheard them talking about kids a few weeks ago. Not just yet, you know, but a few years down the line.”

  “Wow,” said Jay. “Sounds like it’s serious, then.”

  I nodded. “It’s not surprising, really. It took them forever to get together, but once they did? They’re ‘it’ for each other, I know they are.”

  Jay sighed wistfully. “Wow. Way to kill my post-break-up buzz. Now I believe in true love again, damn it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Nah, it’s okay.” They fell silent, clearly lost in thought. I waited a few moments in case they were going to speak again, trying to think of another distraction.

  “Engaged, hmm?”

  Whatever I’d been expecting Jay to say, it hadn’t been that.

  “Yeah. I mean, not yet. As far as I know, neither of them have planned to ask, but it’s only a matter of time. Darcy’s a hopeless romantic, even if she’ll never admit it, and Lizzy’s not much better. If they take much longer I’m pretty sure Lizzy’s mother will step in and take matters into her own hands, and no one wants that. I’ve never met anyone so desperate to be mother-of-the-bride.”

  Not meeting my eyes, Jay let out a cursory snort. I could tell they still wanted to say something so I kept waiting, picking at my fingernails for something to do.

  It felt like it had been an age since either of us spoke when Jay suddenly blurted out, “Jamie proposed.”

  “What?!” I exclaimed, spluttering. “I mean – he asked you – what did you say?”

  Jay looked at me condescendingly. “Really? Come on, Will, I think you can work that one out.”

  I gaped wordlessly for a few moments. Jamie proposed? It wasn’t that surprising, not really; they’d been together for years now, and Jamie had always been one for settling down. But that must mean…

  “You said no,” I said, a statement rather than a question. “That’s why you broke up.”

  “Fucking pathetic, isn’t it,” Jay said, throwing themself onto the pillow behind them. “Breaking up over an engagement.”

  “So you don’t want to marry him?” I asked, feeling like I was missing some sort of memo. They were in love, they were going to be together forever. I just couldn’t understand why Jay would turn Jamie down.

  “Of course I don’t want to bloody marry him!” they exclaimed. “It was humiliating, that’s what it was, there in a fancy restaurant and he gets down on one knee and everyone was watching, and I just--”

  They ran their hands desperately through their hair, tears starting to appear. “We’ve never talked about marriage. Not seriously, not in the whole sickness-and-in-health way, you know? We were going to be together forever, that was the plan, but that never involved marriage. It’s just a bleeding piece of paper, isn’t it? But it’s not. I’m not spouse material. I don’t want to belong to someone else.”

  I could think of plenty of things to say to this: defending Jamie’s intentions, reassuring Jay that marriage probably wasn’t as bad as they thought, telling them to go and patch things up. But I had no doubt that all of those things had been running through Jay’s head ever since they broke things off and moved out.

  “I just wish he’d asked me,” they said, quietly now. “I thought we were good at that, you know, the whole communication thing. I thought he knew that wasn’t what I wanted, at least I thought he’d ask before he’s kneeling on the floor of a five-star restaurant that cost more than our rent with hundreds of rich middle-class straight people watching us, pretending to be polite and supportive.”

  There was nothing I could say that would help, so I reached over and took their hand.

  “It’ll be okay,” I said. “You’ll be okay. It sucks – it really, really sucks – but you’ve got through worse than this.”

  Jay turned to face me, giving me a shit-eating grin despite the tears. “Will, my man, did you just give me the ‘It Gets Better’ talk?”

  “Jesus, I’m trying to be supportive!” I laughed, grabbing a pillow and swatting them with it. “Come on, pity party’s over. Let’s see if there’s any hangover food left in the kitchen.”

  Chapter 6

  I’d forgotten quite how much I dreaded going round to Catherine de Bourgh’s.

  The few times I’d found myself invited to one of these dinners, I’d been overwhelmed with quite how… well, rich she was. Darcy and Jordan had money, sure, but it was nothing compared to their aunt. Not only did she own a large house in central London, but according to Darcy she had another house in the country, a penthouse in Manhattan and a house in Dubai.

  The Iceberg was the only person I knew who had more than one dining room in their house. I’d never been to an evening important enough to be hosted in the ‘good’ dining room, which Darcy told me was only used for Christmas, Easter, and entertaining guests who knew exactly how far from the throne they were. That being said, the usual room was nothing short of impressive. Despite the electric lights now in the chandelier it felt like you were stepping back in time, and the sheer number of forks you were presented with for each meal did nothing to appease this.

  Having visited three or four times before I was no longer surprised by the splendour, but Lizzy, despite her misgivings, was clearly blown away by it. It took a few nudges from Darcy before she stopped admiring the room and instead turned to where Catherine de Bourgh was waiting expectantly.

  She wasn’t a particularly tall woman, but she more than made up for it in her sheer power of presence. Her eyes bore into you, digging up your deepest secrets and insecurities, and she had a way of making even the proudest people feel small and insignificant. I couldn’t say I’d ever particularly liked her, which combined with a constant worry about what she would do if she found out I was trans, didn’t make for a particularly pleasant or relaxing experience.

  “Darcy, my dear, come and say hello to your aunt,” she huffed, accepting a stiff hug and kiss on the cheek from her niece. “William.”

  I nodded, trying not to betray the terror I was feeling. “Ms de Bourgh, thank you so much for your invitation.”

  “I trust that you are well? I hear you’ve turned from publishing to journalism.”

  “Yes, Ms de Bourgh. I work for the--”

  “Well, I can’t say it’s a particularly significant loss. And Miss Bennet.”

  Lizzy gulped. “Hello, Ms de Bourgh. I – um – thank you for, for inviting me.”

  Catherine watched her, calculating. “Hmm.”

  “Will anyone else be joining us?” asked Darcy. She held herself differently when around her aunt. At first glance it seemed like it was with more pride and self-importance, but you didn’t have to know her well to know when she was trying to impress.

  “One or two others,” said Catherine, offering no other information. “So, Elizabeth, I hear you’re working as a literary agent now?”

  Lizzy looked around for a moment before realising that she was, in fact, Elizabeth. “Yes, ma’am. I work at Morland and Daughters, in Bloomsbury.”

  “Part-time,” Darcy interrupted. “I mean, the rest of the time she volunteers. It’s really – well, very admirable, I think.”

  “Really?” Catherine asked dryly, clearly unimpressed. “And where exactly do you… volunteer?”

  “A, a shelter,” stammered Lizzy. “For homeless teenagers. Who are, um, members of the LGBTQ community.”

  “Hmm. And you think that this is… a worthwhile way of spending your time?”

  For the first time since we’d got there, a bit of the usual fire reappeared in Lizzy’s eyes. “Well, I think it’s really important that we all do and give what we can to help those in need, and it’s a cause that means a lot to me. So yes, I do think it’s worthwhile.”

  “I suppose it’s not like you have to earn much,” sniffed Catherine. “Especially now the two of you are living together – don’t give me that look, Darcy.”

  Before either Darcy or Lizzy could retort back, the doorbell rang.

  “That will be our other guests,” said Catherine. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Lizzy span around as soon as Catherine was out of earshot. “That woman! I know she’s your aunt, Darcy, but I swear--”

  “Darcy! And Lizzy, and Will, how wonderful it is to see you all!”

  There was only one person who could ever sound that genuinely enthusiastic, and it was Charlie Bingley, Darcy’s best friend, and boyfriend to Lizzy’s sister Jane. He beamed as he came into the dining room, pulling Darcy into a tight hug before greeting me and Lizzy with more affection than I thought was strictly necessary.

  “It’s great to see you! How’s Jane?” asked Lizzy

  “She’s doing wonderfully,” he gushed. “She sends her apologies that she couldn’t come tonight, she organised a charity gala for tonight. But had she known you would be here, I’m sure she would have worked something out!”

  Someone cleared their throat behind Charlie. Standing in the doorway was a tall, beautiful woman, with short black hair and skin as dark as Charlie’s. She was effortlessly stylish in a figure-hugging, bright blue dress, with stilettos to match.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Charlie. “This is my cousin, Caroline. Caroline, you’ve met Darcy – and this is Lizzy, and Will.”

  “H-h-hi,” I stammered out, waving awkwardly. I desperately racked my brains, hunting for something to say, but Caroline obviously wasn’t interested. Instead she was very obviously eyeing up Lizzy, taking in everything from her cropped brown hair to her flat ballet-pump shoes.

  “So,” said Caroline, syrup dripping from every syllable. “You must be my replacement.”

  I felt rather than saw Darcy rise up, nostrils flaring, to intervene, but before I could register the implications of Caroline’s words, Catherine de Bourgh returned to the dining room.

  “Ah, I see you’ve been introduced to Miss Bennet,” Catherine said to Caroline, the two of them sharing an indecipherable look. “And young William, of course.”

  “Yes,” said Caroline, barely glancing at me while Lizzy squirmed. “I do so enjoy meeting new people.”

  “A family trait, I assume,” said Catherine, turning slightly to where Charlie was bouncing like an excited puppy. “Well, we mustn’t wait any longer. Let’s eat.”

  She moved towards her usual chair at the head of the table as we all gathered round. Lizzy shot towards the furthest chair, next to Darcy, but Catherine stopped her.

  “Elizabeth, do come and sit here. I spoke to William only a few weeks ago; I’m sure he’ll forgive me for ignoring him tonight.”

  I mouthed an apology to Lizzy but didn’t waste any time sliding into Lizzy’s seat. There was no way I was going to waste the opportunity to be further away from the Iceberg. I felt a stab of pity as Lizzy nervously sat between Darcy and Catherine but there was nothing I could feasibly do. Besides, I thought treacherously, I’d been treated to enough interrogation the last time I was here; I deserved a break.

  Just as it couldn’t get any worse, however, Caroline happily seated herself on Catherine’s other side, across from Lizzy. I saw the colour leave Lizzy’s face before she righted herself, a steely determination in her eye. It certainly wasn’t the most conventional meet-the-family that had ever happened, and it was far from the easiest, but if anyone could weather it, it was Lizzy.

  From my vantage point at the far end of the table, I tried to work out what, exactly, was going on between Lizzy, Darcy and Caroline. From Caroline’s words when she’d arrived, it sounded like she and Darcy had once been a thing. But surely Catherine couldn’t know? She wouldn’t have invited Caroline if she did. After all, I didn’t know, and I’d lived with Darcy for years now. If Darcy hadn’t told me about any involvement between her and Charlie’s cousin, I couldn’t imagine she’d tell the Iceberg.

  Unless I was giving myself too much credit? Before Lizzy, Darcy had been very tight-lipped when it came to her romantic life, mostly for Jordan’s sake, but did that mean she was so secretive with everyone? What if she just didn’t want me to get involved? What if—

  I pinched myself hard, bringing me back to the present. There would be time to panic and worry about insecurities. Now, though, I had a dinner party to field.

  “So, Caroline,” Lizzy asked with forced politeness. “What do you do for a living?”

  “Oh, I’m quite sure you wouldn’t understand. It’s very complicated.”

  “Of course.” Never had two words been uttered with such derision. “You’ve met my sister, Jane?”

  “I always find it so strange that you and Jane are sisters, Elizabeth,” interrupted Catherine. “You have such different temperaments.”

  “And thank goodness,” laughed Caroline. “Can you imagine if siblings were all the same? Jordan would be quite insufferable, I imagine, if he resembled Darcy more than he already did.”

  There was a silence as heavy as a stone.

  “I wish I had sisters,” piped up Charlie. “I imagine siblings must be so supportive of each other.”

  “Me too,” I quickly added, desperate to say something – anything – that would fill the silence. “I always used to wish I had a brother. Or, or sister.”

 

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