by Clare Lydon
“Well, it’s Tom’s actually,” Grace said, running a hand through her long hair. “Old family heirloom. Your granddad built it, didn’t he?” she said to TJ.
Blocks of gritty reality slotted into place in Stevie and Geri’s mind, neither daring to look at the other for now.
Tom. TJ was Tom. Tom was not a man. Tom was a woman. Tom was TJ.
Geri saw a muscle in TJ’s jaw click as she fixed her with a gaze.
TJ had come back to her own family house and fucked her. For once, Geri was lost for words.
TJ, however, had no such qualms. “Yep, clever man my granddad – the views are amazing, aren’t they?” TJ styled it out with aplomb, staring Stevie straight in the eye.
Bizarrely, Stevie found herself following suit, agreeing with TJ and Grace. She commented on the views (“astounding”), the kitchen (“light and airy”), the wooden floors (“really bring warmth and character”).
And then there was quiet, a gap in the conversation, an assessment of where they were at. And while it was clear Grace wanted to get to the mirror to do her make-up, the other three just wanted to get away and pretend like this had never happened.
Geri in particular wanted to wind back the clock to this time yesterday, before they’d even arrived at the pub.
“So glad you’re having a good weekend,” said Grace. “We’ll be at the pub later if you’re down. But we better get a wriggle on if we’re going to make lunch…” she said to TJ, glancing at her watch before kissing TJ on the lips.
Geri’s heart plummeted. She stepped back into the heat of Stevie’s sympathetic gaze.
Grace was still smiling, holding up her make-up bag in her left hand. Something sparkled under the changing room lights. On the fourth finger of Grace’s left hand. Her wedding finger. She was wearing an engagement ring and a wedding ring.
Geri dropped her gaze to TJ’s left hand and saw what was not there last night: a wedding ring. In fact, TJ had no rings on last night. But Geri remembered her putting some on that morning when she’d been hurrying out of her bedroom. After she’d just spent the previous night having sex with her.
The room span slightly. Didn’t stuff like this only happen in films?
“Anyway, we better get off for our treatments. Good to see you again,” Stevie said, indicating over her shoulder with her thumb as if she was hitching a ride.
“You too,” Grace said. Chatty, friendly, good looking… just what Geri didn’t need her to be.
“What are you having?” Grace asked Stevie.
“Massage,” Stevie replied.
TJ was frozen solid beside Grace, a smile slapped in place.
“Oh you’ll love it, they’re amazing here, the best. This was my Easter present wasn’t it, gorgeous?” Grace snaked an arm around TJ’s waist.
Geri wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t stop staring. TJ and Grace were married.
Grace continued: “And she surprised me with a naughty chocolate egg this morning when I got back. Not good for the waistline, but you know.” Grace patted her impossibly flat, tanned stomach and kissed TJ on the cheek one more time.
Grace’s words winded Geri, already bruised by their connection. Geri would bet everything she owned that Grace had been given a Smarties egg.
“Have a good lunch.” Stevie grabbed Geri’s arm just as she had a few fateful minutes earlier.
“Good to see you again,” TJ said, her face stoic.
Geri turned on her heel, feeling the cool of the tiles beneath her feet and propelled herself back to her group. The others were all swamped in their robes and slippers when they returned.
“Where’d you go?” Vic asked. “We were all chatting and then you wandered off.”
Geri looked over her shoulder, saw Grace laughing at something TJ had said and shook her head.
“Nothing – just a case of mistaken identity,” she told Vic, fixing Stevie with a stare that told her ‘not now’.
Stevie muttered to Vic she’d fill her in later.
Vic was confused but left it. “Get changed, it’s nearly time.” Vic led the others to the door. “See you at reception?”
Stevie and Geri nodded in unison.
With the others gone, Stevie and Geri concentrated on getting changed – as well as not turning their heads in a certain direction. Having something to focus on was a welcome distraction and within minutes they were stripped, robed and ready to go.
“You okay?” Stevie rubbed Geri’s back lightly.
Geri gave her a rueful smile. “Just swell,” she replied.
“Look on the bright side,” Stevie told her. “At least you’re not married to her.”
Kat
Back at the house, Kat was vertical and on the move. She’d eaten the two slices of toast Geri had brought to her and could now stand upright without wanting to vomit. Things were definitely looking up so it was time for an adventure.
Kat put a foot on the stairs, her knuckles white as she gripped the bannister. She could do this. She made it to the bottom and cursed – she had no socks on. She saw Stevie’s slippers by the pile of shoes and slid them on – not only were they luxuriously furry inside, they were still warm.
She stuck her head around the lounge door and noted its calm, its quiet. She walked through the hall and stared at the bizarre artwork on the walls which looked like somebody had just thrown the dregs of their paint pots at a canvas and then rolled around in them. They probably cost a fortune but Kat didn’t get modern art; didn’t get much art, come to that.
Sure, Kat had been to a zillion gallery openings with her job – correction, her former job. She’d drunk the free Champagne and eaten the free canapés, but it was all a charade, a lie that Kat had created.
She caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. Puffy eyes, cartoon hair, black bags, spots sprouting. Her old paramours, of which there had been many, would run a mile. Or perhaps, like Abby, they’d see Kat as a project, one they could swoop in and save.
If Abby were here now she’d be trying to flush Kat’s system with water and tough love. Kat felt a faint pang of loss, of missing Abby’s voice, her lips, her smell of expensive body creams – L’Occitane, Decleor, Bliss.
Kat tore her face away from her reflection and forced herself back to the moment. No point living in the past – Abby was gone. Kat’s lip trembled. She ignored it.
The kitchen had also been left pristine – Kat marvelled at the tidiness of her mates. That they’d all deserted her wasn’t lost on her, either.
Maybe Abby had been right. Perhaps her friends were all too wrapped up in their own lives and their own problems to care about her. Well, fuck them.
Kat opened a number of cupboards before she thought to check the fridge and hit the jackpot. Wine and vodka heaven.
She grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard and placed it on the counter-top, unscrewing the top from the bottle of Oyster Bay – she could count on her mates to get good wine. She heard the liquid hit the glass and smiled. Then Kat took the lid from the bottle of Smirnoff: it was blue, not the usual red, and she wondered if that meant it was stronger. She felt a twinge of excitement. Kat swigged, winced and blew out hard as she felt the vodka slide down. Only then did she smile as she felt the familiar buzz seep into her system.
The bottles were cold against Kat’s bare arms as she carried them into the lounge. She put her goodies on the wooden side table and set herself up looking out over the ocean. Kat raised her wine glass in a toast to Jesus, it being Easter Sunday and all. Then she downed half the glass in one.
Kat wasn’t religious but her family were. This morning would have been a church date to give thanks for Jesus’s uprising, singing hymns out of tune beside crumbling parishioners. Her mum, sister and three nephews all in a row, her mum having polished her shoes especially for the occasion, her nephews’ faces sullen.
Kat closed her eyes before downing the rest of her glass of wine. She followed it up with anoth
er slug of vodka. She twisted the bottle round in her hands, condensation wetting her fingers. Somebody must have brought this back from their travels – probably Darren. He’d be annoyed with her for drinking it, seeing as it was the least calorific option available. Kat smiled wryly.
She tipped the bottle and took another slug for good measure. Her blood warmed, her body relaxed. She was two steps closer to normal but more booze was needed. Perhaps some snacks too, just to give it the edge of civility, to take the focus away from the fact she was drinking alone mid-afternoon.
But she wouldn’t be alone for long. Soon her friends would be back to take care of her and they’d all laugh and have a drink, too. Then she’d be normal again, a social drinker in a crowd. Perhaps she should have some of her pills, too – she hadn’t taken them for a few days and her doctor would be cross.
Kat refilled her wine glass and gulped it down in four healthy swigs. She wanted to get to the edge now, this was her unconfirmed plan. The smooth liquid coated her throat and danced on her tongue. For a brief moment, Kat was utterly content.
The Massage
Knots tangled, muscles sore. Limbs pummelled, skin smooth. Lavender, jasmine, geranium. Panpipes in the air, the fake sound of the ocean breaking on the sands. Long, warm beds with hot towels. Candles, relaxed breathing, eyes flickering open, then closed. Footsteps shuffling in, out, around. Sounds muffled, oil slick.
***
Geri’s head was pressed into the massage bed’s hole – white leather, like looking through a giant polo. She shifted her forehead until it was comfortable and then tried to relax. Easier said than done.
Her masseur told her she felt tense.
Geri wasn’t the least bit surprised. He’d feel tense too if he’d had the day she’d had.
Geri saw TJ’s face, felt her lips, the shape of TJ inside her. She shifted on the bed and the therapist asked if she was okay. Was he pressing too hard?
Geri mumbled no. She tried to shake her thought process but it was stuck rigid like a high-speed train, never leaving its track and slicing through everything in its path.
Geri could see TJ’s wife clearly, too. So happy to be with her today, an Easter treat. Chocolate, massage, dinner. They were having identical days, only TJ fucked Geri in the morning and it was Grace’s turn in the evening.
Geri closed her eyes and blew out. She could not quite get over the fact she’d given her an Easter egg and fallen for her lines. What a fucking idiot.
Geri tried to block it out, to engage with the hands on her, to feel and not to think. Her mind had other ideas. She’d known in her heart this couldn’t work out, of course she had. Geri lived in London, TJ lived in Devon. But a wife? That took it to a whole new level of deceit, of cunning.
It also made Geri spectacularly morose – not just for herself, but also for Grace and for love. TJ had ignited her romance gene and now she’d have to package it up and put it in the loft. Who knew when she’d be bothered enough to go up there again?
As for Grace, she thought she had a fantastic, thoughtful wife. Looks can be deceiving.
***
Stu was too tall for the bed and his feet hung over the edges. He was used to that. His therapist was called Ringe, a young woman in her 20s from Scotland. Was Ringe a common Scottish name? Stuart supposed it might be. The woman had short, dark hair, a slim waist and a determined smile which made him think he was in for a rough ride – wimps need not apply. Luckily, though, Stu loved massage and the harder the better.
He also preferred female masseurs – he enjoyed the difference of feeling a woman’s hands on him for a change. Smaller, more intricate, yet still firm. Conversely, he knew Darren would be crying into his bed if his masseur turned out to be a woman – Darren was a man’s man.
***
Tash slipped off her robe as her therapist made herself scarce – she didn’t need to, Tash wasn’t shy. She found it daring to be naked in such a public place – naked all except for the paper knickers that Juliet had given her to put on. These places may be posh, but paper knickers? So very 70s.
Juliet stepped back in – she was wearing too much foundation and Tash tried not to stare. Juliet’s manicured nails ran down her checklist as she quizzed Tash. Yes, no, yes, hard as humanly possible without breaking any of my bones please. Juliet laughed.
Tash placed her head into the hole on the massage bed, shifted her body and waited for calm to take over. So this weekend hadn’t quite gone according to plan just yet, but Tash was hopeful it could get back on track soon. She just had to wait for Laura to come out of her funk.
The problem was that everyone wanted a piece of Tash and, sometimes, just sometimes, she wanted all the pieces for herself.
She heard mixing and the music got slightly louder, then there was oil on her skin, hands, movement. Tash opened her eyes to stare at the beige floor, sighing when Juliet’s feet became visible and she began work on her shoulders. Tash felt the tension of the weekend being scrunched in her capable hands, sharp points and harsh angles being softened, tamed.
Tash thought she might like to marry Juliet. Especially if Laura turned her down, which was more than likely right at this moment. How was Laura doing with her bruised face squashed into this hole? Her masseur would have to get creative.
***
Next door, Stevie was trying to relax but her mind kept stumbling back to the changing rooms’ showdown. Poor Geri. She couldn’t believe TJ had turned out to be Tom, married to Grace. Also, she couldn’t help equating the situation to her life. But she was over that now, right? Stevie had moved forward. Hadn’t she?
But could Stevie ever really? Was that how Vic had behaved at her office party, erasing Stevie from her life for one night, focusing solely on the other woman? It made her sick to think about it still. She didn’t want to either, not today, not when they’d nearly sorted so much out. Not when she wanted to make it work. She twisted her wedding ring. It was cold on her finger.
Stevie hated to think of Vic’s hands on someone else, inside someone else.
Then there were hands on Stevie, kneading her lower back, moving onto her bum. Stevie told herself not to be so stupid, to forget about the past, to think about the future.
It wasn’t that easy, though.
Party For One
Kat stumbled down the stairs, pills in hand, grabbing the bannister again. Wooziness was taking over. Did she feel better than when she’d woken up that morning? Yes, but that wasn’t difficult.
She arrived back in the kitchen and grabbed another bottle of wine along with some Minstrels – Easter was a celebration of booze and chocolate, after all.
Kat bumped the fridge door closed with her bum, hearing the bottles in the door clinking as it shut. She shuffled across the kitchen and retook her sea-view seat in the lounge. She drained the remains of the first bottle of wine in one swift move and then took another healthy slug of vodka. Kat was beyond wincing now, just opening her mouth to let some air in.
She looked at her watch: 2.30pm. They were probably all getting massaged now, not giving any thought to her, purely to their own needs and desires. Selfish idiots. Kat unscrewed the cap of the second bottle and poured the wine into her glass, purring with satisfaction at the reassuring glug, glug, glug.
She shook some Minstrels into her palm, ate three and lined the rest up on the arm of the sofa neatly. This was the life, at least that’s what they told her. Kat swirled more wine inside her mouth before swallowing, tasting the pleasing mix of it with the chocolate. She always thought it was red wine that went with chocolate, but it turned out white wine did the job just as well.
The Discovery
Darren insisted on Geri coming back in their car so he could extract the gossip, and Stevie encouraged that wholeheartedly. Geri wasn’t nearly as keen as everyone else but she didn’t have much say as she was shovelled into the back seat, Stu and Darren sandwiching her neatly with eager faces.
For her own sake,
Geri was just glad to be in the car and out of the spa. She’d been a bag of frayed nerves as everyone was getting ready to leave in the changing rooms, even though she knew TJ had probably scarpered soon after they ran into each other, just as eager to escape the scene as she was.
Had Geri detected something in Grace’s expression at the end, some recognition the meeting might not be so innocent? How many times had Grace thought that and how many times had she been right to? It was probably best not to contemplate.
“So – what happened?” Tash asked while she twisted in her seat. Not for the first time this weekend, Geri found herself the subject of interrogation in Laura’s Renault. There was no point fighting it, though, and she gave in easily, explaining what happened in the changing rooms between her and TJ.
For once this weekend, her friends were stunned into silence.
“Married?!” Tash shook her head. “Well, I didn’t see that one coming. And it’s her family house? That’s just too weird.”
“I know,” Geri replied. “Imagine that being your ancestral home and doing that.” A shiver ran down Geri’s body. “If I’d known, I would not have gone there.”
“I guess that’s why Stevie wanted you to discuss it in this car and not theirs. Bit too close to home.” Stu lowered his passenger window and drank in some fresh countryside air. He put his hand to the back of his neck and winced as it came into contact with some oil – he’d wanted to have a shower at the spa but was hurried out, his friends telling him they had to get back for Kat. Stu was sure she could have lasted another 15 minutes.
“Well, she’s not going to be able to avoid some discussion later,” Darren said. “This is big news, after all.” He twisted round to look out the back window at the car behind and saw Stevie and Vic in what looked like relative harmony. All quiet, for now. He turned back to face front.