The Name I Call Myself by Beth Moran

wandered outside into the balmy September air.
    My heart clenched as eight missed calls registered on the display, easing off slightly when I saw four were from Perry and the rest from Marilyn. I walked over to a bench seated an unobtrusive distance from the nearest group of partygoers. One of them I had waited on regularly at HCC, but I often saw old customers at temp jobs, and the recognition was never mutual. Leaning onto the back of the bench, I dialled my answerphone. Six messages.
    â€œ Hi darling. I’m taking you out tonight. Put on your fanciest dress and biggest smile. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. ”
    â€œ Just checking you got my message. I’ll be there in half an hour. Text me. ”
    â€œFaith? Where are you, darling? I’m outside your house. Call me!”
    â€œHi Faith, it’s Marilyn. Perry called. He can’t find you. Are you okay?”
    â€œRight, Perry didn’t want me to tell you but he’s got this big surprise planned. You really need to call him now, Faith. He’s freaking out.”
    â€œFaith? For goodness’ sake, where are you?”
    My heart unclenched, and sank like a stone to somewhere at the bottom of my bowels. I checked my watch. Eight-fifteen. Should I pretend not to have seen the calls until my shift finished? With asigh, I phoned Marilyn. In the huddle of guests a few metres away, a ringtone went off. It was “Fat Bottomed Girls”, the Queen song.
    What? That was Marilyn’s ringtone. I hung up, sweating. A voluptuous figure in a 1950s-style dress with her back to me rummaged through her clutch bag and pulled out a phone. As she twisted to the side, I caught a glimpse of the baby in her arms. As she leaned over to the man standing next to her, swiping the phone with her free hand, I saw a matching baby in a papoose strapped to his back.
    Right. That’s fine. Marilyn knows I waitress at functions. Probably best for me not to stroll up and say hello, but there is no problem here.
    A teeny, tiny horrible thought suggested otherwise. Before I could tell it to shut up and get lost, my phone rang. I hurriedly answered before the connection became obvious, and slipped behind the trunk of a nearby tree.
    â€œFaith! International woman of mystery. Where are you?”
    â€œI’m at work.”
    â€œOh dear. That’s bad. When do you knock off?” she asked.
    â€œI don’t know; at least midnight.” I felt a prickle of sweat on my back where it pressed against the tree.
    â€œAh. Have you called Perry?”
    â€œNot yet. I wanted to find out what’s going on first.” I risked a quick peep around the trunk, scanning for anyone else I might recognize.
    â€œI think you might need to have a sudden attack of diarrhoea and vomiting.”
    â€œAt a catering job?”
    â€œWell, you’d better think of something. There’s a party you need to be at.”
    As I suspected.
    â€œIs it at White Cross Manor?”
    â€œYes! Did you figure it out? If you did that was pretty low of you to go to work. I know you’re trying to be assertive, but still.” Icould hear her growing breathless as she jiggled a restless baby up and down.
    â€œI didn’t know I was invited! I need this job, Marilyn. I’ll call Perry and tell him I’m ill. He won’t mind. There’ll be other parties.”
    â€œEr – not where you’re the guest of honour there won’t.”
    â€œExcuse me?” The party sounds faded into the background, overpowered by the hammer in my head.
    â€œIt’s a surprise engagement party. For you and Perry. I can’t believe you hadn’t guessed. You need to get here as soon as possible.”
    â€œRight. Well, that’s not the problem. I can be there really quickly. In no time at all in fact. ”
    There was silence on the other end of the call for a few seconds. Then Marilyn began to turn slowly around as the truth dawned. I