The Friends We Keep

by Jane Green

  “Dermatologist? What do you need a dermatologist for?” asked Maggie.

  “It’s a New York thing,” explained Evvie. “Most of the women our age are doing fillers, Botox, other stuff to make them look young.”

  “No wonder you look so good,” said Maggie.

  “I did all that when I was married. My husband insisted.” She made a face, a frown with some real bitterness behind it. “I haven’t touched it since. This”—she craned her chin out and stroked her skin—“is all courtesy of my Jamaican mother, and weight gain. My grandmother died at ninety-six and I swear, she looked sixty-five. She also always said that extra weight made your skin better as you got older.”

  The waitress came over and took their order.

  “Fondue!” Maggie shook her head as she left. “I haven’t had fondue since a school skiing trip. This feels rather decadent.”

  “It’s lovely.” Evvie relaxed. “I can’t believe how lovely it is being all together again. I can’t believe how it’s as if nothing has changed. Honestly, I was nervous about seeing you all. I thought, what if we have nothing in common anymore? But I feel as relaxed and comfortable with you both as I always did.”

  “I feel the same,” said Topher. “I live with Benedict, and I love him, but it’s not my home. If I’m really honest, other than Larry, who really was my home, the only other people and place I felt most myself was with you guys.”

  “We know each other so well, that’s why,” said Evvie. “And we lived together so well. If we hadn’t got on when we lived together, then it wouldn’t be the same, but we had so much fun. And yeah, it does feel like no time has passed.”

  “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could live together again?” Maggie said dreamily, downing her drink quickly when the waiter interrupted to ask if they wanted another round. They all did. “Didn’t we once make a pact that said something like that? When we were all fifty we would live together again if we were on our own. You could all move in with me!”

  “That sounds perfect,” Evvie laughed. “As long as your house is big enough for us to retreat. When Topher gets on my nerves I have to be able to disappear until he stops annoying me.”

  “You mean when you get on my nerves,” Topher said archly. “Co-living. I like it. But I’m not on my own. I have Dickie. Can I bring him with? You’re going to love him.”

  “If you love him, we’ll love him, so yes. He can come. I love the sound of this.” Maggie clapped her hands. “I know it’s only a fantasy, but wouldn’t it be amazing? We could do our own thing, work, do whatever we do during the day, but all come together for a big evening meal.”

  “That really would be like being back at college. I’ll be in charge of the music. I’ll make sure Prefab Sprout and the Housemartins are playing in the background.” Evvie couldn’t believe she even remembered the music they used to listen to.

  “The Housemartins!” they all said at once, laughing at the memory.

  “Can I be in charge of the gardens?” asked Topher. “I’m slightly obsessed with gardening of late, even if it is only in theory, but I do think I’d be an excellent gentleman farmer. Would I get to wear a tweed waistcoat?”

  “Honey, you can wear whatever you want,” Evvie said.

  “Oooh, oooh, ooh! Let’s make this happen!” Maggie shouted suddenly, realizing that she was a little bit drunk, but she was also happy. Truly happy, being with these friends, reverting to who she was before she met Ben, who she was before denial, guilt, and shame locked her away and made her feel like she was living a shadow of a life. “You would bring my house back to life, and my mum will finally get off my back about finding a bloody flat in bloody Bath!”

  There was a brief silence.

  “Seriously, guys,” Maggie said, leaning forward. “Could we actually do this?”

  “It would solve my loneliness,” said Evvie, without thinking.

  “You’re lonely?” Maggie sat up in astonishment, and then, unexpectedly, felt a lump in her throat, and before she could do anything to stop it, tears were falling.

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped the tears away with her sleeve. “It’s just . . . this is so nice. I’ve been so miserable for such a long time, and being with you two makes me feel happy again. I can’t think of anything I want more than the two of you moving in with me right now. If you’re serious, it would be life changing for me.”

  “Oh, darling.” Topher put an arm around her. “You’ve been that bad since Ben died? I’m so sorry I haven’t been in touch. I had no idea. You guys were so perfect together, I can’t even imagine what—”

  “We weren’t perfect,” Maggie said. “We were as far from perfect as anyone you’ve ever met. On the day he died, I texted him to tell him I was leaving him and wanted a divorce.” She started crying again now. “Our marriage was a disaster. We looked like the perfect couple, with the perfect house and the perfect marriage, but it was based on deceit and lies.” She was sobbing, and Topher comforted her by rubbing her back, and Evvie sat back, stunned, trying to take in what Maggie had just said.

  * * *

  • • •

  Their marriage was a disaster? What did that mean? Now was not the time to ask, but it was all Evvie could think about as she sat next to her, watching Topher calm her down.

  Eventually, Maggie’s sobs subsided into hiccups. “Oh God.” She smiled. “Too much gin. It always makes me emotional. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Topher. “I think our plan to live together is an excellent one. I’m serious!” He looked at Evvie. “Come on, Evvie. We did make that pact, and you’re dying a slow death on your own in Westport. I’ve spent my entire adult life dreaming of moving back to England, and now my mother’s in Weston-super-Mare, so this would be perfect. I know this started off as a fantasy, but why the hell not? Isn’t life too short? Let’s at least explore it. Frankly, I could do with a new adventure. And maybe your house really could be perfect, Maggie. Why don’t we all come up and see? If nothing else, I’m desperate to see your house.”

  “Really?” Maggie’s eyes lit up. “Are we really exploring this?” She looked at Evvie, who broke from her reverie to shrug and nod.

  “Let’s do it!” she said, clapping her hands, a fire now in her eyes. “Come up! When? Tonight? Tomorrow? Wouldn’t it be amazing if this actually worked?”

  thirty-four

  - 2019 -

  Maggie shut the car door and headed toward Topher, who was already standing in the station car park, to give him a hug before turning to Evvie, who was sitting on a bench with an elegant older man, his hands resting on a silver-topped cane.

  “That’s Benedict?” She gestured to Benedict as she looked at Topher.

  “Yes, that’s him. He’s been dying to meet you.”

  “He’s so elegant!” She approached the bench and extended a hand to Benedict, telling him how lovely it was to meet him. Benedict ignored her outstretched hand and stood up, giving her a big hug.

  “I can’t possibly not hug you.” His voice was filled with warmth and graciousness. “I feel like I know all of you, and I am so happy to meet you finally, after all this time.”

  Maggie stepped back, blushing slightly. Of course he was gay, and old enough to be her father, but the combination of his good looks and charm was instantly disarming. He kept them amused all the way to Maggie’s house, with stories of what he’d been up to in London.

  They turned down Maggie’s lane, through the gates, as a silence descended. Maggie parked and turned to them. “Well, here we are. Home.”

  Evvie got out of the car, her mouth hanging open. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is your house? You live here?”

  She slowly swiveled, taking in the golden manor house, the overgrown topiary yews, turning around to see the old wooden gates now creaking their way closed. “This is like something out of a movie. I feel like I’m in
Brideshead Revisited. It’s gorgeous.”

  “This is breathtaking,” Dickie agreed. “The classic English country manor house.”

  “It’s beautiful but a little high-maintenance, and the decorating’s very old-fashioned now,” said Maggie, looking at her house with fresh eyes as she beckoned them into the hallway, where they all stood, swiveling around to take in the oak paneling, the chintz curtains, the sweeping staircase. She had spent the last twenty years in love with this house, while simultaneously apologizing for it. Pretending that it was a burden, that they couldn’t really afford it, that she was slightly embarrassed. But seeing it now, taking in its beauty, she stopped talking. She had said enough.

  “First of all, anything this size is going to be high-maintenance,” said Evvie. “Between all of us, spreading the work, it becomes . . . practical. If we all lived here, it would probably be entirely manageable. As for redecorating, that’s easy. I’d love to help. We can get rid of all the chintz and get some lovely Swedish grays and neutrals in here. And we’ll fill it with new memories.”

  Topher turned, taking in the large inglenook fireplace in the hall, big enough to roast a large animal. “I already love everything about this house. I want to live here starting right this second. I’m not joking. This is heavenly, and I’m ready to move in tomorrow.”

  “You know what I think?” Maggie laughed. “I think it’s time to put the kettle on. It’s chilly in here anyway. Let’s build a fire in the den, and we can talk about it some more. Nothing needs to be decided today.”

  “Of course it’s chilly in here,” said Topher. “It’s an English manor house. There would be something wrong if it wasn’t chilly.”

  Maggie turned to go to the kitchen, followed by Evvie, as she told Topher and Benedict to feel free to explore—Topher looked like he’d explode if he didn’t get to see it all immediately.

  Walking into the kitchen, Maggie felt an energy and levity in the house that hadn’t been there for years. She had had the same sensation as she did arriving back at the house just a few moments ago, seeing it with fresh eyes. It wasn’t her tired old kitchen filled with the ghosts of children she never had and a husband she had lost, but a large, sun-filled room with a limestone floor, cream kitchen cabinets, and a kitchen table large enough for ten people. It was a room crying out to be lived in, and loved. It was a room begging for people sitting around the table, for laughter, for bottles of wine being opened, for huge casseroles being cooked and served at the table.

  She had not served this house well, she thought. She had blamed the house for all that had gone wrong in her life, and for the first time today, she knew that this house did not deserve it.

  The kitchen was a beautiful room, as it was a beautiful house, a house she and Ben bought because it felt like a house that needed to be filled, with children, with people, with animals. And it was only today, for the first time, with her dearest, oldest friends right behind her, that she realized this was what was meant for the house, this was what the house had been waiting for: her family of choice.

  Already, it felt like a completely different house; already, it felt like a new home.

  By the time they brought tea into the living room, complete with Maggie’s buttermilk scones (they were hiding in the freezer, but defrosted beautifully), Topher had built a fire, Benedict looked completely settled in the battered old leather wing chair next to the fireplace, and Evvie had started to feel excited. She wasn’t worried about keeping Jack a secret, for Jack, with his life in Oakland, was so far away from this, it felt probable that even if she lived here, never the twain shall meet.

  “Are those Liquorice Allsorts?” Evvie slid a glass jar over, filled with the multicolored candy. “Maggie! I haven’t had these since college! I can’t believe you still eat them.”

  “Help yourself,” said Maggie. “I’ll even let you have the round ones in a bid to tempt you here as soon as possible. What’s your plan?”

  “I’m going to get out of my condo as quickly as I can,” said Evvie, picking out all the round candies with a grin. “I never want to leave this place.”

  “I was just saying the same thing to Dickie,” said Topher. “I think we should sell the apartment in New York, and maybe buy another small pied-à-terre just to keep a toehold in the city. I said I wasn’t zipping over to see my mother later,” said Topher, kicking off his shoes. “We might never leave either.”

  “Where did you say your mother’s living?” asked Maggie.

  “Weston-super-Mare. She was somewhere else in Somerset after my father died and she moved back here, and then had a sketchy boyfriend for a while who lived by the sea. She gave everything up to move in with him. He left her in the lurch a couple of years ago, and she’s still in the house.”

  “Oh my God, that’s terrible. Is she okay?”

  “She is more than okay. She’s the femme fatale of Weston-super-Mare, which is all a bit disconcerting. My father dying seemed to give her a completely new lease on life. Right now she has three boyfriends, apparently, and she’s a pensioner.”

  “Your mother was so fabulous,” sighed Evvie. “The most glamorous woman I had ever seen.” Also the woman who got her hooked on diet pills, thought Evvie. An addiction that took years to break.

  “She was lovely,” said Maggie. “I always liked your mother. I like having the older generation around. It keeps us grounded. I’ve barely seen my parents since they moved to Cornwall. I love the idea of having someone’s parents around, even if they’re not mine. I’ll adopt anyone’s family if I like them.”

  “My mother will be delighted to hear that,” said Topher, wincing at the discomfort of what was coming between himself and his mom. “It probably would be a good thing to be close to her, not to mention, live in this fabulous house with my oldest friends.” He turned to Maggie then, noting her eyes were glistening. “Are you crying?”

  “Only very slightly,” she said. “I just . . . I love you guys. I can’t believe we’re back together again. I can’t believe we lost one another for so long, and I really can’t believe that we’re considering this incredible adventure. I just feel . . . you really are the only people who know the real me, and you really are my family, the family I’ve chosen. I just wish we’d all done this years ago.”

  Topher and Evvie reached out to hug Maggie.

  “I’m so glad we’re all here,” Maggie said when they disengaged. “We probably couldn’t have done this years ago. We definitely couldn’t have done this when Ben was around. Or your ex-husband.” She looked at Evvie. “Perhaps we all needed to go through the stuff we went through to bring us here today. Right, Evvie?”

  Evvie couldn’t meet her eye. “Right,” she said, looking past her to the house, knowing that disaster was likely to strike, but she couldn’t stop it now. It was too late. She wanted this, these people she loved, all back together, more than she wanted to keep hiding, more than she wanted to keep secrets.

  It’s too late to change the past, she thought. Maybe it was time she chose happiness rather than secrets. She took a deep breath.

  “What do you think?” she asked. “How soon can we make this happen? I’m going back to the States on Monday, but how soon can we all move in?”

  thirty-five

  - 2019 -

  Weston-super-Mare was relatively quiet, the tourists having left for the summer, but the Royal Hotel was busy, filled with well-dressed people having tea.

  Dickie stood up with a mild stretch and took his cane. “I’m going to leave the two of you alone while I go on a sea walk,” he said.

  “Don’t go on your own,” said Topher’s mother, who had been at her most charming and gregarious, flirting with Dickie for the past hour as they had tea. “We’ll come with you.”

  Dickie shot Topher a quick look before bestowing his most charming smile on Joan. “I’m going to leave you and Topher to have some mother-son time.
I know he’s been wanting you all to himself.”

  “We don’t mind, do we, darling?” Joan turned to Topher.

  “There is something I want to talk to you about,” Topher said, much more nervous than he should be. This was no longer the loving but grand, perfect mother of his youth. She was still beautiful, still impossibly elegant, but when they picked her up he was shocked at how fragile she was.

  It was the first time he had seen her as an old woman. She would be horrified to hear that, but her lipstick had twice smudged onto her cheek during tea, and he had to gently wipe it away for her, plunging into a role reversal he wasn’t expecting. He drove up here feeling nervous about confronting her, with a tinge of leftover anger, but found it had dissipated over tea to something more akin to sadness.

  They bid Dickie goodbye as Joan called the waiter over. “Can you bring us our scones please?”

  “You want more scones?” Topher was stunned. “You already had two scones.”

  His mother looked confused. “I did?”

  “With cream and jam,” he added as Joan waved the waiter away. “Are you okay, Mother?”

  “My memory isn’t what it was,” she said, attempting to laugh it off.

  He was slightly disturbed by her words, but too focused on what he had to say to really think about them. “Mother, did you actually read my book?”

  “Of course, darling. It’s wonderful.”

  “Do you remember the chapter in which I talk about the tennis coach?”

  “Tennis coach?” She frowned. “I’m not sure I remember that bit.”

  “Did you read it or did you skim it to find the bits about yourself?”

  His mother chuckled. “I did start it, darling, and I really enjoyed it, but my book club insisted I read another book, so I had to put it aside and I haven’t had a chance to pick it up again. I will soon though.”

  Well, that explained why he hadn’t heard from her, thought Topher, regretting his recent anger, his presumption that she hadn’t cared, or didn’t believe him, thought he was being overdramatic.