Chapter 16

It's Bing's 28th birthday and he decides to hire out the local lawn-bowls club for an evening of bowls, drinks and dinner. It is a cold, clear night, fresh from the downpour late last night. The invitation went out over Facebook, which means even common and indifferent acquaintances turn up, so the place is packed. But the bowling is optional, and as most people focus on the free booze and food while I hate everything about socialising at parties, I make sure we get there late and set us up on the green, at a rink as far from the crowded bar and clubhouse as possible and start teaching my girl how to curve her bowl to get as close as possible to the jack at the far end. It is an old person's pastime only because it takes a lifetime to get any good.

"Hiding in the corner as usual I see, Darcy," Richard intones as he wanders over, drink in hand. He pretends to just notice Elizabeth, "And what have we here? You've found a friend to hide with you? How did he manage that, I wonder?"

"Knock it off, Richard." I perform the requisite introductions, keeping Elizabeth possessively tucked under my arm as I do so. "I see you're back from Japan. How was the skiing?"

"Not nearly as good as the hot tubbing." He smiles and winks. Elizabeth quirks a smile up at me. "I can't believe you let this lecherous old guy run around representing DG as its Chief Finance Officer. Interesting executive dynamic there. "Frost King" CEO, "Sexual Predator" CFO, and "Social Butterfly" COO? If only I could be a fly on the wall in your board room." She steps out from under my arm and leans toward Richard, whispering, "He's told me a lot about you. Thank you for keeping him out of trouble."

"Hmm. Well, I've actually been trying to get him into the kind of trouble he has conveniently fallen into with you at long last. Do you have any idea how many gorgeous creatures I have had to console over the years because they couldn't get close to this one? It's been a tough job, but I was willing to take one and all for Team DG."

"Well, you can tell me all about it while we watch Darcy focus on the jack over there and pretend no one else is here. Come on, lets choose your bowls – they all have cute little designs, so we know who belongs to what. Mine's a dolphin, Darcy went with the lion—" Elizabeth is interrupted by the voluble arrival of the birthday boy himself.

"I should have known Darcy wouldn't even bother to wish me Happy Birthday at my own party!" He swamps Elizabeth in a bear hug befitting his self-appointed position as big brother, while Jane greets me much more formally. Elizabeth returns the affection with gusto. "Hi Charles, happy birthday! You know your bestie – you were surrounded by people when we arrived so there was no way he was going to bother navigating that."

"Yeah and I wished you Happy Birthday on your actual birthday when I gave you our present, ok. Stop whining."

"Whatever, D. I'm raising my expectations for your social skills now that you've managed to land this one." He still has his arm around my girl, when he turns to her and continues, "and when are you going to call me Bing? You, Jane and my mother are the only people left who call me Charles. It's so formal."

"I'm sorry, Charles, Bing just makes me think of Chandler and then I think about Friends and I just – it's not a name, ok, it's the sound on a rotisserie oven telling you the chicken's done. How about I call you Chandler?" Her eyes light up at this, and she points at me. "Oh my gosh, I've got it. I'm going to call you Joey. It's perfect. Your best friends with Bing so you are Joey. Though to be honest, you are nothing like Joey, but weirdly like Ross, which would make me Rachel, and I am so not Rachel, so no, that doesn't work at all." She looks genuinely disappointed. "Ok, I'm sticking with Fitzy."

"Then you will have to be my Baby."

"I'm actually getting used to that. And you kind of have a Patrick Swayze vibe going on, so you know, maybe you can teach me how to Mambo, or do the Cha Cha, and we'll dance off into the sunset. I could call you Johnny?" She awkwardly sashays over to me, singing "Be my, be my, be my little Baby!" and starts twirling under my arm, which just makes everyone laugh because neither of us can dance to save ourselves, and then she spins us out along the lawn, moving to the beat of the song she is still humming. I'm lost and loving every moment of it.

"Get your filthy hands off him!" The words are whispered at a high pitch somewhere to my left and it brings us to a shuddering halt. Caz has entered the fray, swinging her stiletto heels in one hand, because even she can't break the rules at lawn bowls – no pointy heels on the green, ladies. I'm about to read her the riot act when Elizabeth squeezes my arm and shakes her head. In the brief pause we gave her, she clutches at Elizabeth's arm, yanks her away from me and continues to whisper furiously.

"Who the hell do you think you are? Nobody touches Darcy, nobody. You blow in from god knows where, with your Kmart overalls and your shabby chic hair, like you don't give a shit about anybody – there's no respect, no humility – like you have a right to stand next to people like us! He belongs in my world, and I belong in his world. You need to learn your place." With every word she is stabbing the air with her stiletto pointed at Elizabeth's face. I am staring, horrified at the scene unfolding, but then I look closely at my girl. She has her head tilted to one side, and her eyes are narrowed, not in outrage, but in quiet contemplation. I'm not sure if I should speak, do the right thing, and defend her against such ridiculous slander, because all I really want to do is hear what Elizabeth is going to say. Caroline appears to have exhausted her argument, which isn't surprising at all, given how shallow it is.

"Caroline, can I ask you something?" Elizabeth's voice is calm, soft and yet pregnant with a mature authority that belies her youth and inexperience. I think it comes from her unwavering convictions, the principles upon which her life is based. She doesn't need to experience life's slings and arrows to know how she will behave in different situations. It's arresting and compelling and altogether terrifying, and I have no idea how Caz can just stand there in front of such tenacity. I guess she doesn't see it, so she just nods, a little befuddled because Elizabeth hasn't been reduced to a puddle of tears yet.

"What, if anything, has given you the impression that I, have ever or will ever, care about what you think of me?" That should have been the mic drop moment, but Caroline keeps digging.

"Everybody cares what other people think of them! You're full of shit if you're trying to tell me otherwise."

"I didn't say I don't care about what other people think. Of course, I do - depending on who it is, I care very deeply about what people think of me. But I just don't care what you think of me. I'm not saying this to be cruel. It's just curious that you have lived in this little part of the world, and not ever realised that every relationship you have is completely voluntary. Even is this shallow world where the only thing that seems to matter is money, status or physical appearance. Everyone in your life has the power to choose to no longer be in your life. Even your family. The ties that bind us are actually so ephemeral, Caroline. Especially the ones based on fear, or shame, which may seem unbreakable. Even family ties need to be nurtured, cared for, strengthened. None of these things are an entitlement, no healthy relationship can be demanded or called into being simply because you say it."

"Well, so what? I mean, so people can choose not to be friends with me. I don't want to be friends with you! This is me choosing to tell you to get the hell away from me and my family and my friends!"

"Oh, so you're speaking for Charles, and Darcy, and everyone else here?"

"I'm looking out for them, they don't know what's good for them, do they?"

At this point, I can no longer listen in silence. "Caroline, I don't need you to decide who my friends are or what is good for me. I've never needed that—"

"Oh, please, do you have any idea how many times I have run interference for you, keeping unsavoury people away from you? Can you not remember all the times we have sat together at parties mocking all the wannabes and losers who hang around, hoping to get closer to us, our world?"

"Caz, that was not – I didn't want – I don't do well in big crowds, and I'm not proud of those moments. I didn't want to be that person, but I couldn't deal with people coming near me. I'm sorry I used you like a shield but that is all it was!" My anger has turned into pleading, and I'm no longer talking to Caz, I'm talking to Elizabeth, but I can't bear to look at her and see disappointment, or judgment on her face.

"Well, screw you, Fitzwilliam Darcy!" She turns for a moment to look at the quieted crowd, who have been watching from a distance, unable to hear, but transfixed by the drama, nonetheless. "Don't act like you're suddenly a man of the people," she mimes air quotes around that phrase, "you are as much of an arrogant prick as I am a pretentious bitch – you still think you're better than everyone else here, and you always did. You knew you could get away with treating people like crap and they would just take it, because you're Fitzwilliam Darcy." More air quotes then she turns back to Elizabeth. "I don't need your psychobabble. This is how the world works, it always has, and it always will. You fall into line, or you disappear."

As she walks away, head held high, I am impressed by the realisation that she is just as right as Elizabeth was. She saw me too. The difference was, she liked the guy that I was. I was—I mean, I am both of them. I am still too ashamed to look at Elizabeth, so I walk to the far end of the rink and pick up my bowls. I give up the pretence and drop them in the ditch, edging into the unlit covered stand to stare unseeing at the beach volleyball game underway on the court over the fence.

The party returns to its previous noise levels, and I am about to turn back and face the music, when I feel a small hand slip into mine. The relief I feel is so palpable, I swear I am levitating off the ground. She positions herself directly in front of me, pressing her body into mine, demanding my attention. "She was right, Fitz. But I'm pretty sure I'm right too. The choice has always been yours."

I spend the rest of the evening kissing her in the shadows under the stand, undisturbed by the rhythmic thwack of volleyball against limb, or the distant sound of revelry in every direction. Every time our lips part I say I'm sorry, but I don't give her a chance to absolve me. I still feel it everywhere, every time she touches me, and it is the only thing I want to remember from that night.