‘It’s for the lady over there,’ she says, pointing out Penny. ‘Can you tell her it’s a thank you for the great job opportunity? From Julia? I don’t want to interrupt them.’
I’m standing beside her and she notices me watching but doesn’t offer to buy me anything. She can’t anyway. The wine she’s chosen is exactly twenty pounds.
‘Diet Coke,’ I mutter to the barman as Julia moves away, joining Marilyn and Eleanor near the dance floor, far enough away for Penny to have to seek her out and thank her, and also, perhaps more importantly, on the other side of the room from the Dolce & Gabbana handbag she was so recently digging around in. I watch her insert herself as if they’ve invited her to join them and I don’t know what to do. I should say something to Penny. But what? I think Julia stole your own money to buy you a drink? It’s dark. I wasn’t that close. It’s a big accusation to make.
Penny leaves the bar and rushes over to gush a thank you at Julia, who does a fine impression of embarrassment. She’s not fooling me though. If she didn’t want a fuss, she wouldn’t have given a thank you gift in such a public place. I’m an expert in not wanting to be fussed over. I wouldn’t have given a gift at all. If I say something, will people think I’m somehow jealous of the new girl? Julia shines. I don’t. Maybe I didn’t see it right anyway. Maybe I’m making a wild assumption. I feel sick.
Over to my right, Simon Manning half waves at me, but I’m saved by Marilyn, who’s fled Eleanor now Julia’s there. ‘God, butter wouldn’t melt,’ she says. Marilyn’s not fooled by her either.
‘Sorry I snapped. About Simon.’ Ava may be my heart, but Marilyn is my rock. I should tell her what I think I saw. No, not what I think. What I saw. She wouldn’t doubt me and she’d be able to handle it much better than I can. I’ve had two glasses of wine, and I’m feeling braver than normal. But still I can’t bring myself to speak. Marilyn would act on it and then there would be confrontation and who knows where that would lead? Julia is trouble. I can sense it.
Thankfully, Marilyn is staring down at the bright screen of her phone. ‘I didn’t realise the time,’ she says. ‘Richard’s outside, if you want a lift home.’
My instant relief is almost overwhelming. ‘Yes, please. I’m done. Let’s sneak out. I can’t be bothered to do the circuit of goodbyes.’ I’m trying not to sound too eager, but I want to get out of here, away from Simon Manning and Julia and the noise of it all.
‘Sounds good to me,’ she agrees.
I don’t fully relax until I’m strapped into the back of Richard’s Saab.
‘Good night, ladies?’ he asks.
‘Yes, thank you,’ I say.
‘It was all right.’ Marilyn is less enthusiastic. ‘The music was too loud, and you know, work people.’ She rolls her eyes and he smiles.
‘Present company excepted, I hope,’ I say, and we all laugh a little in the polite way people do with a predictable joke. I stare out at the night as we drive away, zoning out Richard’s questions as the two of them chat. It’s nice to be in their company. Money. Julia. Penny. I don’t want to think about any of it.
When I get home, my resolve breaks and I send Ava one last text.
I’m home from my party but I’m sure your sleepover is still going strong! Give my love to the girls and I’ll see you tomorrow xx
Even as I send it I know how passively needy it is under the chirpiness and wish I could call it back. I doubt the other mothers text nearly as much as I do. But they’re not me. They haven’t had my life. When the handset immediately pings I’m so sure it’s going to be Ava snapping at me – but at least I’ll know she’s safe – that it takes a moment to register I’m staring at an unknown number. I feel sick. The bunny rabbit. A strange number. The past tumbles towards me, and I tremble as I click to open it.
Hey, Lisa, it’s Simon. I know this is wholly inappropriate and I can always pretend it’s about work, but I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me next week? Anyway, no need to reply straight away. Think about it. (before you say yes;-)). Enjoy the rest of your weekend. Sx
My emotions have raced from anxiety to calm to anxiety again and I don’t know quite how to process this. The memory of warm citrus scent fills my head.
No. I can’t. I can’t let a man in again. I can’t.
I delete the text and climb the stairs in the dark.
MARILYN
We wait, as we always do, until Lisa is through the front door, give her one last wave goodnight, before Richard pulls away.
‘Sorry if we kept you hanging about,’ I say. ‘I didn’t realise the time.’
‘It was that good a night?’
‘Ha, no.’ I look at him, a comedy bored expression on my face. ‘A Penny company night out. You can imagine. All work talk and pretending to be enjoying myself. I’d rather have been at home. I almost called you to come early, but I didn’t want to make Lisa feel she had to leave too.’ I’m over-explaining, despite my attempt at humour. Richard has always worked for himself. He doesn’t understand the whole office politics thing, no matter how many years I’ve had this job. He thinks it’s all some social whirl all day.
‘Isn’t it Lisa’s birthday soon?’ he asks, his eyes on the road. ‘The big four-o?’
‘A couple of months I think.’
‘We should do something for her. Organise a party. You could ask all the people at work along. Any other friends she has.’
I stiffen. Invite work into my home life? I can think of nothing worse. ‘She’s not a party person.’ Outside, the night flashes by. Where would we have it? Somewhere expensive? Somewhere to show off at? Regardless of everything else that screams at me this is a bad idea, we can’t afford to host a party.
‘Maybe not, but she’s changed over the years. She’s not the little shy mouse she was when you first started working together.’
He’s right, she isn’t. It’s still there sometimes, the unsettled edge which used to come off her like electricity, but it’s not an everyday thing. She walks with her shoulders back now and laughs easily. I became friends with her at first because I felt a bit sorry for her, not that I’d ever tell her so, but then I saw the person behind the shyness, wry, clever and kind, and things changed. Best friends. We’re there for each other. I love her. It’s as simple as that and I love her new confidence. It’s part of why I keep my secret from her. She doesn’t need any more shit in her life. I figure she’s had enough in her past one way or another. Plus, if I tell, I have to admit it to myself. I can’t face that.
‘We’ve all changed,’ I say, the words heavy, and as he glances across at me, I add, ‘It’s been ten years. My thighs have definitely changed.’
‘Your thighs are gorgeous.’ He looks back at the road. ‘But she’ll only be forty once and she doesn’t have anyone else to organise something for her. Ava won’t do it. She can’t arrange her own fortieth birthday and we’re her best friends.’
The thought is sweet, sometimes he is so very sweet, and my words come out too fast, my tongue loose after one glass of wine too many. ‘She may have a boyfriend to celebrate with by then.’
‘Oh?’ Now he’s looking at me properly, the road ahead empty of cars. ‘Come on. Spill.’ He smiles, white teeth in the darkness.
I fluster. I shouldn’t have said anything. This isn’t his business.