by R. J. Parker
It was ‘KathRhys’ at the door. At least that was how they signed their greetings cards as a couple. The others all shared history, but Kathryn and Rhys had only moved to Basildon in 2017. Rhys worked for a petrochemical company that had relocated there and Kathryn was a recruitment consultant. Even though they lived the closest, only a five-minute drive away, they were always the last to arrive.
This rankled with Ted and more so with Jakob, even though Jakob had been instrumental in recruiting them to the dinner group. When they held up everyone else’s evening, they never apologized for being late, so Ted had taken to inviting them an hour early to exert some damage limitation. ‘Here they are!’ he exclaimed, diplomatically, when he opened the door.
‘Hope you haven’t started without us.’ Rhys’s breath clouded around his dark bearded face. He was thirty-four, a year younger than Ted but his frameless spectacles gave him an avuncular appearance.
Tall Kathryn had her dark hair in a bun on top of her head and her usual dyed Mallen Streak forelock swept across the top of her fringe. She thrust a bag containing wine bottles into Ted’s hands as if it was their ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card and kissed him on the cheek.
‘Some interesting ones in there.’ Rhys nodded at the bag.
Ted didn’t have a clue about wine, but he’d worked out that Rhys didn’t either. Rhys was enthusiastic about whichever acidic consignment he’d been sent by his wine club, but Ted always put them on the rack to gather dust. At their next visit Rhys would forget that he’d brought them previously and examine the labels with vague disdain. Ted didn’t dislike Kathryn and Rhys. They just weren’t his favourite people. They didn’t really fit in with the rest of the group, but they were Evie and Jakob’s friends and had assumed one invite to join them all for dinner in 2017 meant lifelong membership.
But when Juliette’s father died, Kathryn and Rhys had been incredibly supportive. Both spending time with her because they’d both lived through the same bereavement. More time than any of their other friends. After that Ted’s perception had changed. They were at odds with the others, but Ted couldn’t forget the sensitive side they’d shown his wife when she’d really needed it.
‘The girls are sleeping over at a friend’s, but they didn’t want us to leave,’ Kathryn said to Juliette.
Kathryn and Rhys had twins of Georgie’s age. It had taken them five years of IVF treatment to bring them into the world, so Ted understood why they handled their girls like antique china.
He took Kathryn’s dark teal cashmere shawl and it smelt overpoweringly of perfume. ‘Come through.’ That was everybody. The evening was now officially underway.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘It’s a trust game.’ Evie gauged seven people’s reactions and didn’t seem surprised by them: attentiveness from the women and uncomfortable suspicion from the men.
‘Alexa, turn off,’ Juliette said without shifting her attention from Evie.
Ed Sheeran was cut off mid-angst. That pleased Ted, but he was still baffled as to why Alexa only seemed to obey Juliette. The sudden silence committed everyone to listen and he studied Orla’s and Connor’s expressions. Evie attempting to reconcile them was part of every get-together.
Orla and Connor were a passive aggressive couple, their Northern Irish accents noticeably stronger when they were tossing cutting remarks at each other. But now they sat among the others like two singletons. Juliette liked to mix everyone up so nobody was sitting with their partner. They’d never been that tactile but now the only giveaway that they were actually together was the occasional barked remonstration from Orla when Connor rested his elbows on the table or slouched in his chair.
Connor’s look was always the same – wiry, sweaty and harried, with three buttons opened down from the collar, his tight black curls looking as coiled as he was. But today Ted could see a shadow of something in Connor’s eyes. Orla was as skinny and tall as Connor and her straight fringe of mousy hair came exactly down to her eyebrow line. She was a pale and beautiful woman, but Ted thought the style made her look slightly deranged. Juliette had told him her eyebrows had fallen out because of a childhood trauma and that she’d always been self-conscious about them. She’d never wanted to augment them with eyeliner or get them tattooed, however, even though a large percentage of her arms were covered in ink. Ted thought she looked more frazzled than usual.
‘My work colleague is seeing a counsellor at the moment,’ Evie continued. ‘She said that after twelve years of marriage she didn’t believe anyone outside of it was ever going to be able to help her.’
There was that ‘work colleague’ again. Ted wondered if she really existed. Evie was always advocating therapy, even though she and Jakob had had only a handful of sessions some years ago. They were a solid couple, but boredom was their enemy. Evie often looked for problems where there weren’t any. They should have had children; it had been talked about at one point, but Juliette said the subject was now strictly out of bounds.
‘He got them to play the trust game. It’s especially for couples who have been married longer than seven years.’
That described all of them. Kathryn and Rhys had had their tenth anniversary already and, as they’d all got married the same year, the rest of them would be celebrating this coming summer.
Orla and Connor had two girls, like Kathryn and Rhys. Ted didn’t know how they managed with more than one child. But they’d all felt overpowered by parenthood at various stages, experienced that deep fatigue and the night terrors about their children’s future. Probably because of the girls, Evie had made Orla and Connor her rescue project, and recently even Ted had become concerned about Connor.
Connor had always had a dour sense of humour, but over the past year there had been a marked change in his personality. The flippant glimmer in his eye had gone and he now seemed to go through social occasions with Orla on autopilot. But it was something Connor had said at a pub that had disturbed Ted. Connor had been bemoaning the relentless nature of parental commitments and Ted had responded with a platitude about trying to enjoy the kids when they were young because life was short. Connor had said:
‘Life’s short. But sometimes not short enough.’
It was vintage Connor, but without a trace of his usual playfulness. He just looked worn out. He was an investment broker and brought home a bigger salary than the other couples put together, but Ted guessed that juggling multiple stress balls at work and dealing with a crumbling marriage was the reason he was becoming increasingly withdrawn. Maybe Ted had been reading too much about suicide stats for men their age, but he’d been worried enough to mention it to Juliette. She said that Orla and Connor’s fights had stopped, but that seemed more troubling than anything else.
‘To any couple who feel they’ve amassed too much baggage, the game is designed to expunge guilt and wipe the slate clean for the sake of their futures.’
Ted’s eyes switched to Evie and back to Connor again. His friend’s face was impassive.
‘So what is the game?’ Juliette asked as she poured more red wine from the decanter into the empty glasses on the table.
Jakob nodded he’d have more. He’d just finished his third glass and his ruddy complexion held the tally. He’d already told Evie they’d be getting a cab.
‘Each person in a couple has to write down their deepest, darkest secret on a piece of paper, something that has happened since they took their vows – something they’ve never told their partner about.’ Evie checked their reactions again, gave it a beat to let the tension set in.
Nobody moved. Ted had been about to swallow but now didn’t want to fill the silence.
‘Then they fold the piece of paper, put it into an envelope and give it to their partner.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Jakob responded offhandedly and took a generous swig of his filled glass. ‘Already sounds dangerous.’
Evie turned to him. ‘If you have something to hide.’
‘What if they have nothing to hide?’ Rhys absent
ly stroked his beard.
Evie ignored him. ‘It can be anything, minor or major. Then their partner, without opening the envelope, tells them that they forgive them and sets fire to it.’
‘What about the other’s envelope?’ Juliette filled her own glass.
‘They do the same. Say they forgive them and burn theirs too.’
Juliette’s eyes were fixed on pouring.
‘And what the hell does that achieve?’ Connor sounded bored.
‘It’s symbolic and it means they can move on. Whatever secret they had has been forgiven and destroyed by their partner.’
‘Without them knowing what it was,’ said Rhys warily.
‘It’s a declaration of faith in each other’s future together.’ Evie sipped her wine.
Connor leaned back in his chair. ‘Isn’t that like ten Hail Marys though? I mean, how often do you do this? Every week? Do I simply get Orla to absolve me every time I do something wrong?’
‘That’s already a full-time job.’ Orla didn’t look at him when she said it, just gently stroked the ornate tattoo of a blue-ringed octopus on her forearm.
‘Why do you assume you’re the only one who’s done wrong?’ Juliette asked Connor pointedly.
The three men were briefly tongue-tied.
‘It’s not like a laundry service.’ Evie fingered the stem of her glass. ‘You’re not taking this seriously.’
Was Juliette? Ted noticed she still hadn’t made eye contact with him.
‘And it’s one secret you write down?’ Rhys raised an eyebrow.
Evie sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘So nobody could do a job lot and get them all forgiven and burnt in one hit?’ Rhys glanced at Kathryn.
‘So what happened to just being honest and open with your wife?’ Connor seemed to regret the question before he’d finished asking it.
‘What indeed.’ Orla’s Northern Irish accent was suddenly very thick.
Jakob was shaking his head at his wine glass.
‘You’ve gone very quiet, darling,’ Evie observed.
‘Let people sort their own problems out,’ Jakob said quietly and took another glug of wine. ‘No need to spoil a nice evening.’
Evie frowned theatrically. ‘I’m just telling them about my work colleague.’
Jakob kept his nose in the glass, his eyes rolling.
‘I’d be happy to do it,’ Orla declared. She nodded as attention shifted to her. ‘Why not?’
Ted felt the atmosphere suddenly chill. ‘Nobody here is a qualified therapist.’ He shot a glance to Evie then Juliette, but both were looking at Orla. It felt like the evening was suddenly on shaky ground.
‘I’ll do it too,’ Kathryn proclaimed.
‘So you’ve already thought of something to write down?’ Rhys wasn’t smiling.
‘OK. Why don’t I get some pens and paper?’ Juliette was on her feet.
‘Wait.’
She fixed Ted blankly and it reminded him of how she looked at Georgie with dead-eyed patience when he threw a tantrum.
‘Not everyone’s comfortable with this.’
Juliette looked around the table and Ted followed suit. The other women were obviously keen on the idea. Connor leant back in his chair and languidly raised his hands.
‘Looks like we’ve been set up,’ he said with resignation. ‘We’re damned if we do, but we’re most certainly damned if we don’t.’
Jakob put down his empty glass. ‘Get the paper, if Evie wants to forgive me so badly.’
‘For what?’ Evie tried to read his features.
‘You’ll never know. Your game, remember?’
Ted knew that strait-laced Jakob wouldn’t have played.
‘OK then?’ Juliette smiled at Ted, as if to reassure him that the game wasn’t for them. But when she turned away, Ted saw it quickly vanish.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘You didn’t have to think long either,’ Kathryn remarked icily and flattened her Mallen Streak to her forehead.
Rhys had his fingers cupped around the piece of paper he was scribbling on, his tongue protruding through his beard in concentration. ‘Ouch.’ He shook his aching hand. ‘Can’t remember the last time I had to write anything more than my signature.’ But still he hadn’t finished.
‘You’re going to run out of space in a minute.’ A sly smile tugged at the corner of Connor’s mouth.
Nobody else was joining in. Ted regarded the blank pastel notepaper and empty envelopes that Juliette had placed in front of everyone.
‘Well … I’m not doing this on my own.’ Rhys looked around guardedly at the others.
Nobody put a hand to the pile of pens in the middle of the table. Jakob had his arms folded defensively.
Connor turned to Evie. ‘And this worked for your colleague?’
Evie nodded.
‘How?’ Ted asked.
‘Well, she’s no longer divorcing her husband.’ Evie pursed her lips.
‘Maybe you can invite her along to our next evening so we can compare notes,’ Connor retorted dryly.
‘Yes, it would be good to meet her at last.’ Jakob straightened in his seat but didn’t uncross his arms. ‘What about you, Evie? You started this.’ He raised one fair eyebrow at her.
Evie put down her wine glass.
‘Well, I suppose as my husband is so eager.’ Kathryn eyed the pens.
‘It’s my suggestion. Jakob’s right.’ Evie plucked a pen and started to write on her paper.
‘No thinking time for you either?’ Jakob emptied the remains of the decanter into his glass.
Evie ignored him, finished and folded her piece of paper in half.
‘I’ll get us some more wine.’ Juliette scraped her chair out.
‘Is that a good idea?’ Ted had already counted four bottles opened between them. Another one wasn’t exactly going to improve the atmosphere.
‘Don’t look so worried.’ Juliette began to rise.
‘Hang on.’ Rhys held out his hand to her. ‘You don’t get out of it that easily.’ He folded his piece of paper. ‘I’m done. I’ll get the wine.’ He slid it inside its powder blue envelope and fixed his gaze on Evie. ‘Do we seal them?’
‘I suppose so.’ She slipped hers into her peach envelope.
Juliette settled back in her chair.
‘OK.’ Rhys made a show of licking the edge obscenely while he looked at Kathryn. Then he placed it delicately on the table and thumped it a couple of times with his fist.
As if in retaliation, Kathryn reached past him and snatched up a pen.
‘Shall I select something from the rack?’ Rhys headed to where it was mounted on the wall.
‘Whatever you fancy.’ Ted was watching the glances Orla was throwing Connor.
‘Crack on then.’ Orla nodded at the pens.
‘Then we can change the subject and have some cheese and port?’ Connor seized one.
‘Yes.’ Orla followed suit. ‘God forbid we should talk about anything meaningful.’ Her hand moved across the paper.
Ted suspected it was too late to prevent what Evie had instigated but tried regardless. ‘Maybe we should do this another time. It is getting late.’
Juliette picked up a pen. ‘Come on. We don’t want to be the last.’
‘Very suspicious,’ Rhys chuckled. ‘I wonder what a therapist would read into that?’
When Juliette started writing, Ted began to feel uneasy.
Jakob caught his eye. ‘What if we can’t think of anything?’
Evie bit her lip. ‘You’ll think of something.’
Jakob shook his head. ‘So, there’s obviously something you think I should write.’
‘Whatever you feel guilty about. Could be a small thing, could be a very big thing.’ She let that hang between them for a few seconds. ‘You’ll think of something.’ Evie nodded at the pens.
Jakob sighed, reluctantly grabbed one and started scratching at his paper.
‘We’ve got to have a talk about your wine cel
lar.’ Rhys peered at the bottle he’d withdrawn from the bottom of the rack.
Ted knew it was a Rhys leftover. ‘Better ones at the top.’
Rhys squinted at them through his specs. ‘If you say so.’
But suddenly Ted realized he was the only person who hadn’t written anything. He looked at the top of Juliette’s silver-grey bob as she concentrated. What could he commit to paper? Not that. He couldn’t put that moment into words, couldn’t physically register what he didn’t even want to think about. Not for the sake of Evie’s stupid party game.
But Juliette had to forgive him for whatever was in the envelope, burn it to release him from guilt. Was he tempted enough to risk giving the secret a physical presence before it was willingly destroyed? No. Think of something else. This was just a silly stunt. He’d drunk too much wine. If they were all sober, they’d all recognize how foolish this was.
Juliette’s pen moved across the paper. What exactly was she writing?
CHAPTER SIX
‘I forgive you, Rhys.’ Kathryn was holding Rhys’s powder blue envelope in her hand. In the other she had a green transparent plastic lighter that Juliette had found.
‘That was pretty convincing.’ Rhys smiled humourlessly.
‘We all have to say it with conviction. Right, Evie?’ Kathryn’s eyes remained on Rhys.
Ted registered that Evie seemed transfixed by the couple facing each other over the table.
Kathryn rasped the flint of the lighter with her thumb and a flame flickered up towards the bottom edge of the envelope. She moved it closer and positioned both over the handcrafted yellow clay ashtray from Portugal that Ted’s parents had brought back for them.
Kathryn touched the flame to the paper, and it started to blacken, but after a few seconds, she extinguished the lighter and bit her lip. ‘I could just open it. What if I do that?’
Evie fingered an auburn lock behind her ear. ‘It’s not allowed. The trust has been placed in your hands.’
Kathryn seemed to enjoy Rhys’s uncomfortable expression. ‘Might be worth it.’