She hadn’t recognised any of these things as red flags, and nothing warned her off – even if her sister had met him once very early on and immediately nicknamed him ‘Del Boy’, and he’d not liked her one bit, and it had caused a fight that night after they’d been out at a nice bar. Sean had flown into a rage and shouted at Joy for the first time, really scaring her, and then he’d cried and apologised and grovelled, telling her it was Patti’s rudeness that had done it. Joy’s little sister had set out to turn Joy against him and he had simply wanted to defend himself. Didn’t Joy see that her own family had it in for them, wanted to split them up?
He’d somehow made his control look like romance, like it was them against the whole world and he’d take on anyone who, for whatever pathetic reasons they might have, wanted them to separate. It was jealousy probably, he claimed, or possessiveness over Joy, who was a grown woman, couldn’t they see that? She could make her own decisions about who she spent time with, he’d railed.
They’d swung from intense romance to a different pitch of intensity so fast she’d not understood it was happening, and by then it was too late.
He’d somehow got himself a key made, then he’d sort of moved in. Or at least he was suddenly coming and going as he pleased, and her life shrank imperceptibly until her mum was leaving messages in tears, telling her daughter it felt like she didn’t know her anymore and shereallydidn’t like this guy.
Yet, Joy always defended him. He was good to her. He loved her. And all the time she didn’t fully see what he was doing to her. He was cutting her off, keeping her all for himself.
No, there’d been no lovely romantic ‘recognition’ there, unless it was Sean recognising she was going to be easy to control.
Joy quietly slipped into the kitchen and set herself up as the glass-washer and bowl re-filler. The feelings in her chest didn’t match the happy wistfulness of the rest of the group. She plunged her hands into the too-hot, soapy water, letting the hot tap run and run, wanting to feel anything but the bitter, cynical feeling that was threatening to overwhelm her.
Weddings and forevers weren’t for everyone, her brain told her. No matter how many heart-warming stories of love and marriage the Crawleys and Crocombes of this world told.
Joy kept her hands busy, the scalding water drowning out the feelings of having been taken for a ride by a nasty narcissistic man who had dropped her and Radia like stones and was out there somewhere right now doing and thinking who knew what.
Soon, however, the food was all gone, and the dishes washed up. Everyone had broken into chatty little groups and Jude’s mum announced it was time for games.
Joy watched from the kitchen where she wiped down already clean surfaces and Mrs C. planted a white veil over a bemused Jude’s head, telling everyone she’d run it up from some old net curtains.
Daniel and Ekon conspiratorially produced a big box from behind the sofa, then, thinking better of it, Daniel said, ‘Actually, maybe we should hold off a bit,’ looking over at Radia and then back into the box, sending Jude into a panic about what could possibly be in there.
‘We’re heading off now anyway,’ Joy said, sensing the part of the evening that was suitable for kids was most definitely coming to an end.
Jude’s grandmother had produced a hipflask encased in a little crocheted sleeve and was offering Mrs C. a swig of her homemade sloe gin, telling her one whiff of it would put hairs on her chest, and Radia, despite complaining that she really wasn’t sleepy, was hauled off the sofa and told to find her shoes.
‘I’ll call a cab,’ Joy said into the rising rabble, feeling a little forgotten about already.
‘No need, dear,’ Mrs Crocombe told her, over the sound of the oven timer bleeping to say there were still some forgotten garlic dough balls on the way.
Ekon was draping Jude in a pink bride-to-be sash while Daniel handed round plastic tiaras with flashy lights.
‘Rads, can you find Charley fox,’ Joy instructed, looking around the room, just as the doorbell rang and Jude, still in her homemade veil, escaped for a moment to welcome inside two more women, one of whom Mrs C. made clear was her daughter, Edie, a head teacher. The other lady was one of her teaching assistants, Monica Burntisland.
‘Teachers?’ Radia repeated as the room filled even more, another cork was popped, and summer jackets were removed, sending new perfume scents mingling.
Joy’s search for Radia’s other shoe and Charley fox intensified. She threw a pleading look at Jude, but she was busy getting the women drinks and trying to keep the veil from falling off her head.
‘That’s right, we work at the primary school along the road,’ Edie told Radia as she perched on a stool by the kitchen counter, looking very ready for a big drink. ‘Ooh, lovely!’ She lifted a bubbling glass from Jude’s hands.
‘Primaryschool?’ Radia was agog.
‘Well, thank you so much for having us!’ Joy said desperately, followed by a little yelp of triumph as she pulled Charley fox from between the sofa cushions and Ekon held up the missing jelly shoe. ‘We’ll wait outside for a cab.’
The doorbell ringing again made Mrs C. and Jude pause and glance at one another. Joy couldn’t miss the look they exchanged.
‘Who’s that?’ Joy said, already sensing what was going on.
‘Can you get the door?’ Jude asked Joy. ‘I have to rescue the dough balls.’
Joy made towards it with a deep breath while Radia grilled the teachers on where exactly this school was and whether she was old enough for it and what kind of uniform the girls wore. Joy’s heart sank to hear it. They had to get out of here. She hauled the door open.
On the step, with his hand raised to ring the bell again, was exactly the person she expected to see: Monty Bickleigh.
She turned back with an accusing glare at Mrs C., but she and Jude had their backs to her, pulling something beige and inflatable from Daniel’s party box while Jude’s grandmother exclaimed that she hadn’t seen one of those in a while.
Joy pulled Radia outside into the cool of the evening, shouting her goodbyes and a ‘Thanks for having us!’
