poker. I fiddle with my hair, pulling it over my ear. Jesus, I look awful. The girls are sure to guess, especially Alice – she’s practically psychic.
Do you know what you look like, Sandra? A withered plant that’s been severed at its stem
.
Edgar was cool this morning, especially when I asked him why he was doing so many late hours. He said he hadn’t realised he was, and asked me if I felt he was ignoring me, sounding so sincere. I could have asked him then, come straight out with it.
Are you having an affair?
I didn’t. He offered to come home early this evening, said the two of us could have a romantic evening together, that he would do the cooking. Had he remembered the girls were coming over? Was that why he was so eager to offer, knowing I would refuse? He told me how beautiful I was, that he didn’t tell me often enough, that, like most men, he was a fool when it came to such things. I muttered, ‘Liar,’ under my breath, and he must have sensed my mood, because instead of kissing me goodbye on the lips, he kissed me on the cheek, then hugged me. It wasn’t a sensual hold, more like misguided comfort. He said something about me enjoying a productive day in the studio. Thank God he hasn’t been inside. He’d know I haven’t done any work in weeks. What else did he say? My mind is such a muddle.
Damn it, what’s keeping the girls? Karen is always early. I think about Alice again, how her silences often say more than her words. A while back, I’d wondered about her and Edgar, if there was something going on between them. I had put it down to jealousy on my part, her being so damn attractive. Maybe I should have cancelled tonight, but if I had, it would have brought on a tsunami of questions. The interrogation would have begun with gusto. Phone calls back and forth, probably talking to each other behind my back. They’ve done that before.
My right hand shakes as I refill my glass. I’ve no intention of having a second drink so soon. Best to wait until at least one of them arrives, and even then I need to take it slow.
It’s ten past eight, but it’s still bright out. Maybe I should set up a table in the garden. Wear dark sunglasses to hide my eyes.
You’re being ridiculous
.
The sound of the doorbell is almost a relief. No more time to think. I know it’s Karen even before I reach the door – her familiar ring, two short blasts, then a final long one.
‘Isn’t the weather bliss?’ she says. ‘Are the others here yet?’
‘No, you’re the first. Come in. You look great.’
‘Thanks. You look awful. What’s up?’ She plonks her replica Louis Vuitton bag under the hall table, the one she told us about the last time we had a girlie get-together. She got it as a bargain on a package holiday to Portugal. Nobody mentioned it being a cheap copy. Some people might think we’re an odd bunch, the way we pretend nothing has changed since our twenties. It’s partly why our relationship survives. We ignore material differences, avoid mentioning that some of us are far better off financially than others, and even though we don’t always agree,I guess, over the years, we’ve managed to be there for each other in our own wacky way.
‘Nothing’s up. I’m tired, that’s all,’ I say.
‘I have the cure.’ She holds up a pink carrier bag with two bottles. ‘Thirsty work, this talking business.’
I laugh.
Keep up the show
. The bell rings again. This time there’s two of them, Alice and Lori. Alice stands closest to the door, her blue eyes and blonde hair perfect as always. Lori is like a demure dark pixie, her ebony hair tied tight behind her. They look like chalk and cheese.
‘Come in.’ I plaster a smile across my face. ‘Karen’s already here.’
‘Have you been drinking? Your chest is blotchy, and you look awful.’ Alice skips past me with Lori in tow.
‘Just the one.’
‘I already told her she looks dreadful,’ Karen says, coming out from the kitchen with four empty
Do you know what you look like, Sandra? A withered plant that’s been severed at its stem
.
Edgar was cool this morning, especially when I asked him why he was doing so many late hours. He said he hadn’t realised he was, and asked me if I felt he was ignoring me, sounding so sincere. I could have asked him then, come straight out with it.
Are you having an affair?
I didn’t. He offered to come home early this evening, said the two of us could have a romantic evening together, that he would do the cooking. Had he remembered the girls were coming over? Was that why he was so eager to offer, knowing I would refuse? He told me how beautiful I was, that he didn’t tell me often enough, that, like most men, he was a fool when it came to such things. I muttered, ‘Liar,’ under my breath, and he must have sensed my mood, because instead of kissing me goodbye on the lips, he kissed me on the cheek, then hugged me. It wasn’t a sensual hold, more like misguided comfort. He said something about me enjoying a productive day in the studio. Thank God he hasn’t been inside. He’d know I haven’t done any work in weeks. What else did he say? My mind is such a muddle.
Damn it, what’s keeping the girls? Karen is always early. I think about Alice again, how her silences often say more than her words. A while back, I’d wondered about her and Edgar, if there was something going on between them. I had put it down to jealousy on my part, her being so damn attractive. Maybe I should have cancelled tonight, but if I had, it would have brought on a tsunami of questions. The interrogation would have begun with gusto. Phone calls back and forth, probably talking to each other behind my back. They’ve done that before.
My right hand shakes as I refill my glass. I’ve no intention of having a second drink so soon. Best to wait until at least one of them arrives, and even then I need to take it slow.
It’s ten past eight, but it’s still bright out. Maybe I should set up a table in the garden. Wear dark sunglasses to hide my eyes.
You’re being ridiculous
.
The sound of the doorbell is almost a relief. No more time to think. I know it’s Karen even before I reach the door – her familiar ring, two short blasts, then a final long one.
‘Isn’t the weather bliss?’ she says. ‘Are the others here yet?’
‘No, you’re the first. Come in. You look great.’
‘Thanks. You look awful. What’s up?’ She plonks her replica Louis Vuitton bag under the hall table, the one she told us about the last time we had a girlie get-together. She got it as a bargain on a package holiday to Portugal. Nobody mentioned it being a cheap copy. Some people might think we’re an odd bunch, the way we pretend nothing has changed since our twenties. It’s partly why our relationship survives. We ignore material differences, avoid mentioning that some of us are far better off financially than others, and even though we don’t always agree,I guess, over the years, we’ve managed to be there for each other in our own wacky way.
‘Nothing’s up. I’m tired, that’s all,’ I say.
‘I have the cure.’ She holds up a pink carrier bag with two bottles. ‘Thirsty work, this talking business.’
I laugh.
Keep up the show
. The bell rings again. This time there’s two of them, Alice and Lori. Alice stands closest to the door, her blue eyes and blonde hair perfect as always. Lori is like a demure dark pixie, her ebony hair tied tight behind her. They look like chalk and cheese.
‘Come in.’ I plaster a smile across my face. ‘Karen’s already here.’
‘Have you been drinking? Your chest is blotchy, and you look awful.’ Alice skips past me with Lori in tow.
‘Just the one.’
‘I already told her she looks dreadful,’ Karen says, coming out from the kitchen with four empty
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