by Shari Low
Justin was a couple of Budweisers past the kind of sensible judgement that would have stopped him from pushing her any further. ‘Aye okay, so I tripped. What’s your problem?’ he spat.
See, this was the thing with Justin. When he was sober he was the sweetest, kindest man, one who was unfailingly good fun and lovable. But when he’d been drinking, he could be sharp and belligerent. Not a combination that Sasha tolerated.
We could all see that this was about to erupt like so many occasions over the last year or so, but it was Chloe who intervened and diffused it like the perfect hostess.
‘Och don’t worry. If Connor cooked them, they were probably underdone and would have given us all botulism anyway,’ she said breezily, passing a look to Connor that was sure to be a telepathic apology.
As always, Connor got it and laughed. ‘Racing certainty,’ he agreed, picking up the sausages and tossing them in the bin.
Chloe was still displaying her hostess superpowers, in full jocular mode as she waved to the empty chairs at the table. ‘Come on everyone, grab a seat, eat and we’ll try not to poison anyone with Connor’s meat or my coleslaw.’
It was the perfect smooth-over to an awkward moment, and everyone did as they were told. Even Sasha.
Okay, awkward situation averted. Normal service resumed. Let’s just have a pleasant afternoon, like any normal gathering of a love-struck pairing, a seething female, a blitzed bloke, and a former married couple and their new partners. Yup, just like any other day.
All we had to do was stay civil, keep everything neutral, stick to middle of the road, idle chat, and avoid the subject of grass-stained sausages. What could possibly go wrong?
‘You know, I love it when we all get together like this,’ Connor said, holding up his beer glass in a toast. Good. Positive move. Reminding the group what a good thing we had. ‘I always missed it when I was… away.’ He looked at Chloe when he said that and she leaned over and kissed him.
‘Oh for Christ’s sake – that makes it sound like you did a five-year stretch for armed robbery,’ Sasha barbed, the resulting laughter elevating the mood even further. Excellent. We were winning. Showing our maturity. Taking strides forward.
Conner grinned too. ‘It was four years and I was wearing a balaclava, so they’d no proof,’ he shot back, before returning his attention to the rest of us. ‘So I was thinking…’ he carried on.
Suddenly a large dose of the fear gripped me. Nooooo, he shouldn’t be thinking. Why would he think? It could only lead to some ridiculous idea for some future group activity and I was only just getting through on the basic ‘barbeque and special occasions’ level. Stop thinking. No more thinking.
‘How about we plan a group holiday?’ he finished, with an air of triumph at his genius idea.
‘Yes!’ Justin blurted. ‘I’m in. Let’s go all-inclusive for the free booze.’
‘Pass me a fork, so I can stab myself in the hand,’ Sasha muttered, but Justin was on a roll and coming back with a new idea.
‘No, no, wait a minute! Malibu! I’ve always wanted to go to Malibu.’
‘That’s only because you’ve got a sordid addiction to reruns of Baywatch. Pamela Anderson doesn’t actually patrol the beaches there,’ I teased.
‘Yes, she does. And there’s only one way to prove my point. Malibu!’
We were still laughing when Chloe gave her thoughts. ‘Oh, it would be great!’ she gushed. Of course she would. She loved every one of us and wouldn’t see past the joy of having all her friends in the same place at the same time.
I glanced at Richard. ‘If I can get time off, I’m there,’ he agreed. Oh bloody hell, even he was selling me out. So much for our telepathic coupledom. Read my mind. This. Is. Not. A. Good. Idea.
An image of Nate, on our last holiday together jumped to the forefront of my mind. He was playing football with some local guys on a beach in Estepona, top off, just shorts, laughing at something one of them had said, looking like an advert for sports deodorant or razor blades. True, he’d spent the rest of the night reading a book, and we’d only had sex twice in the fortnight, but my brain was currently in some default mode that weeded out the negative bits and made me remember only the good stuff. Did I want to watch Janet leering over him for a fortnight in bloody Malibu? Absolutely not. Was I having momentary, fleeting feelings of attraction to my ex? Yes I absolutely was. Therefore, could I stand it if they slipped off every afternoon for a quickie? No I absolutely couldn’t. The thought of Richard and I, and Nate and Janet, lying on double sun loungers next to each other sipping piňa coladas and discussing whose turn it was to go for the lunchtime ice lollies made me want to reach for Sasha’s fork.
It was a terrible idea and – despite the fact that I hated to be the one that killed it – I couldn’t let it happen. I had to speak up. Say it now.
‘Actually, I’m really sorry but that won’t work for us.’
It wasn’t me who had spoken. Someone else had got there before me. My gaze flicked to Janet, who was shrugging apologetically, and I breathed a massive sigh of relief. Well played, Janet. That was my very favourite thing that’s come out of your gob since we met.
‘We, erm, already have plans for our holiday next year,’ she went on.
‘Oooh, tell us, tell us,’ Chloe prompted, excitedly.
It was Janet’s turn to look at her partner conspiratorially, and before they’d even had their telepathic conversation my premonition talents kicked in yet again and I knew. I bloody knew.
Fear and dread and resignation combined to make the skin on my buttocks tingle. Don’t say it. Please don’t.
Nate cleared his throat like he always did when he was nervous, excited or apprehensive. ‘Em, yeah, so the thing is…’ he began.
Don’t say it. Don’t fricking say it.
‘We’ve set a date for the wedding. It’s next October, so our holiday next year will be our honeymoon.’
Justin’s state of inebriation suddenly seemed like a place I really wanted to be.
Chapter Five
Justin’s 32nd Birthday Garden Party
Aug 2003
‘So are we going to talk about it?’ Richard asked. Again.
‘Here? Now?’ I replied, lifting a sausage roll from the buffet as I passed it. Sasha had outdone herself, admittedly with loads of help from Chloe. They’d managed to lay on a feast for sixty people that would have a professional caterer weeping into their vol-au-vents. It had started off as a small gathering to celebrate Justin’s birthday, and had ended up a full-scale garden party, complete with food, copious alcohol and a DJ. The sun had even chosen to shine – although it couldn’t quite break through the little cloud above Richard’s head.
‘Why not? You won’t talk about it any other time.’
It was the elephant in the room, the taboo subject for the last month. He’d been offered a position as a consultant neurosurgeon back in his home city of Manchester, a fantastic promotion that would absolutely solidify his career. He wanted to take it, wanted me to go with him and I wouldn’t give him a decision. I couldn’t. Call it cowardice, indecision, lack of clarity, sheer bloody-mindedness, call it reluctance to live 200 miles away from my friends – whatever it was, it was shutting down my life-changing decision-making skills and causing waves of panic whenever the subject was raised.
It was crunch time. Long-distance relationships didn’t succeed in our line of work. The shifts, the demands, the pressures. As we’d experienced over the last couple of years, even with a partner in the same house it was difficult to get quality time together.
‘You two look so serious!’ Sasha commented as she appeared at my side. She was wearing a cream suit, with trousers that sat so low on her hips they had to be held up with nothing but prayer and optimism.
‘I’m trying to persuade your friend to join me for a life of tropical bliss.’
‘Where?’ Sasha asked.
‘Manchester. I might be using a bit of artistic licence with “tropical”.
I’ve been offered a job there. A promotion.’
‘Congratulations! But she’ll never go,’ Sasha said with a weird but spot-on combination of blasé conviction.
‘Why?’ Richard asked, amused at her certainty. I decided to let them discuss me. Sometimes hearing someone else’s take on your actions was enlightening. Unless it was my mother, in which case it was bound to be mildly disparaging with an edge of disappointment.
‘Because she wouldn’t leave Chloe and me, especially when you’re going to be working long hours, so you’ll barely see each other. And because I’ll be clutching on to her ankle and she’ll never manage to dislodge me. Biceps of steel,’ she said, flashing a finely toned upper arm.
A new arrival to the group reacted first.
‘Those pull-ups are paying off, Sasha,’ Janet the Jogger said, clapping her hands like a seal. Sorry. Even after three years, I still couldn’t control my inner bitch when it came to this woman. She was being perfectly nice and there was I, thinking evil thoughts. No wonder the Gods punished me by moving my boyfriend to another city. ‘I’ve booked your next gym session for Monday, usual time,’ she added.
Sasha at least had the guts to glance at me and I saw a mild apology in her eyes. She was working out with Janet? First I’d heard of it. Judas. Thirty pieces of silver and arse cheeks you could bounce a cricket ball on.
Yes, I was aware that I wasn’t being completely rational. We were adults. We all got on well. If I’d met Janet under other circumstances we might actually be friends. Hang on, that was perhaps a step too far. I don’t think I could be friends with someone who ended every conversation with, ‘You know, you really do need to start working out – you’ll be toned in no time and you’ll ward off all sorts of mid-life health issues.’
‘I’m just going to grab a drink,’ I blurted, then realised that my words had come with an echo. Nate had arrived, was standing next to Janet, and he’d just said exactly the same thing at exactly the same time. That was cute when we were married but just plain uncomfortable now that we were divorced.
Richard, Sasha and Janet looked at us for a moment that just oozed awkwardness. We’d said it, so surely we had to follow through, otherwise it would just make it even more strange.
‘I’ll come with you,’ I said, my voice a little higher than usual. ‘Richard, I’ll bring you back a beer. Sasha, Janet?’
‘Wine,’ Sasha replied, just as Janet said, ‘Water.’
Of course. I could have guessed that.
Nate and I shuffled off towards the makeshift bar, set up in the far corner of the garden between the hut and the barbeque.
‘Sorry, that was weird and I wasn’t entirely sure how to make the best of it,’ I admitted.
‘Me either,’ he seemed to be relaxing a little now that it was just the two of us. Sometimes I thought we spent so much energy focusing on making our new partners comfortable, that we forgot how well we actually knew each other. I’d accepted now that we’d never be best buddies, hanging out and swapping life stories and gossip, but at least we weren’t bickering and point scoring.
‘So how are things?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, good. You?’
Small talk. I’d seen his penis and yet we were acting like we’d just met in a bus queue.
‘I’m fine. How are the wedding plans coming along?’ I didn’t actually want to know, but I was trying to be mature and cordial.
He shook his head. ‘We decided to postpone. Janet’s sister announced she was getting married the week before our date. Kind of stole Janet’s thunder, so we’re going to hang off for a while. We’d only provisionally booked it, so it wasn’t a big deal.’
‘Wow. Bet Janet wasn’t thrilled.’
That would be the understatement of the year. Janet liked to be involved, be up front and centre, make an impact. I had no doubt at all that the wedding would be a grand spectacle, but at least now it wasn’t a grand spectacle that was happening this year. I’m not sure why I was relieved about that.
‘No, she wasn’t delighted. But to be honest, holding off for a while isn’t a bad thing. It was going to cost more than a Mercedes,’ he said ruefully. ‘Who knew weddings cost so much?’
‘Not me,’ I quipped. ‘Change out of £500.’ It was true. Nate and I had tied the knot in a tiny church in Luss, a stunningly beautiful village overlooking Loch Lomond, then nine of us – Chloe and Connor, Sasha and Justin, his parents and my mum, had walked through the gorgeous, cottage-lined, winding streets to a local hotel, where we’d feasted on all our favourite foods, then danced into the night. It had been beautiful, perfect, low-key and just exactly the way I’d always imagined it to be.
A little lump of nostalgia got stuck in my throat just as Justin’s Auntie Doreen accosted us with a tray of tiger prawns. I paused to give her a hug of greeting (and thanks for rescuing me from flashback sentimentality). We were about to walk on when we were joined by one of Sasha’s brothers, Lee - a lovely guy but as far departed from Sasha as imaginable.
Lee was a hippy, man-bun-sporting yoga guru, who stayed at home taking care of his twins while his wife worked in… Actually, I had no idea what she did because Sasha only ever referred to her as The Overachiever.
He had one of his children strapped to his chest in a papoose-type thingy. My knowledge of such things was limited. ‘Hey guys,’ he drawled, ‘How ya doing?’
‘We’re good thanks, Lee.’ I answered automatically, then realised I had no place speaking for Nate any more. ‘Alright mate?’ Nate shook his hand, and if he noticed my inclusive reply he didn’t comment.
‘Yeah, I’m great,’ Lee answered Nate. ‘Thought you two would have one of these by now,’ he went on, pointing to the baby. Clearly Lee wasn’t big on current affairs.
‘Lee, we’re… erm… divorced,’ I stuttered, hoping Nate would step in with some witty retort to diffuse the situation. He didn’t.
‘Oh… well… cool. Not be getting one of these any time soon then,’ he said, as if he was talking about a new lawnmower or a food mixer.
Sasha appeared at my side and must have caught the last bit of the conversation. ‘Sorry, I did tell him this many moons ago, but unless it’s to do with yoga, kids or weed, he has no powers of retention.’ She turned to her brother, ‘I think your wife is looking for you. She just went inside.’
‘Ok… well… cool,’ he repeated, before wandering off in the direction of the house.
‘Honest to God, there’s no way we’re related,’ Sasha groaned. While she was speaking, I glanced back to see Richard and Janet chatting away. With no baggage between them, they’d always got on well.
‘By the way,’ Sasha sighed. ‘Next time you two want to leave me stuck with your new partners, can you make sure I’m hooked up to an IV drip shooting straight tequila into my veins? I need a drink, maybe two or th—’ Her voice tailed off and I immediately picked up on a new, twitchy vibe. ‘Just for a change,’ she hissed, gesturing towards the barbeque area, where Justin was deep in conversation with a woman.
‘What change?’ Nate asked, absolutely clueless. I didn’t have the same rapid response. My eyes had to follow Sasha’s gaze, until they fell on Justin, talking to a familiar blonde bob. I really had to find out her name so I could stop referring to her in my head as a highlighted hairstyle.
‘I met her at your 30th birthday party,’ I said, keeping my tone fairly nonchalant in the hope it would rub off on my pal with the irritated demeanour. It didn’t.
‘Yep, she works with him. Can’t remember her name. She’s just always there when there’s any kind of occasion or night out,’ Sasha said, and something in her tone made the skin on the back of my neck prickle. I decided to try to diffuse things with an opinion on blonde bob’s character.
‘She seemed nice. I sponged a cigarette off her.’
‘You smoke?’ Nate asked, shocked.
‘That isn’t the point here,’ I retorted. I no longer had to account to him for the well-being of my lungs. ‘Anyway, she’s
got a boyfriend. I remember her being raging because of something to do with him seeing another woman or something. I forget the details.’
Sasha’s eyes narrowed on the woman now, like a crocodile coming up to the surface ready to snap at an unsuspecting floater on their holiday lilo.
‘Don’t you think there’s something off in their body language?’ she asked, not taking her eyes off them for a second.
‘Whose body language?’ Chloe asked, appearing at our side, catching the last comment but oblivious to everything that was going on.
I sighed as I answered her, realising this was only going to go one way. Sasha and Justin were notoriously jealous about each other, and the slightest suspicion could escalate from curiosity to open warfare in minutes, especially now that Justin’s drinking had become an issue between them. ‘Justin and the woman he’s talking to.’
‘I think there’s definitely something off with them,’ Sasha said, answering her own question.
I was sure there would be a perfectly innocent explanation. Unfortunately, Sasha was on a completely different page.
‘Fuck it,’ she said, as she marched over to join them. Nate, choosing wisely, spotted Connor standing at the bar, bunked out and made a beeline for him, while Chloe and I looked at each other, shrugged, then followed Sasha for Health and Safety purposes. Mostly the stranger’s Health and Safety.
‘Hi. I don’t think we’ve met properly. I’m Sasha, Justin’s girlfriend.’ Even from a few feet away, I could see Justin’s newly assumed expression of dread. This couldn’t be good.
Chloe and I reached them just as the woman introduced herself as Madeleine.
‘You work with Justin.’ Sasha left that one hanging there, creating a hugely uncomfortable moment.
‘I do,’ Madeleine said, but there was definitely an undercurrent of hostility from her too. What the hell was going on?
‘Sasha, leave it. Let’s go and…’ That was me – Miss Conflict Avoidance Champion 2003.
‘No,’ Sasha said, quietly. Bollocks. Only her friends would know that when Sasha got quiet it was the calm before the ‘oh dear God, everyone duck’. ‘I think,’ she went on, the fakest smile I’d ever seen on her face, ‘that I’d like to know what Madeleine and Justin were chatting about because it seemed very serious.’