She likes looking after people, I think, which is lovely. Makes me think of my mother and her collection of artistic strays always littering up our table, and I grin because looking at Marin in her lovely silky shirt and black jeans, I know she’s a million miles away from my mother and yet similar. Both part of that decent crew of women who take it upon themselves to take care of people. It’s clearly not genetic.
Rachel and Marin head out to pass over the essential wisdom that goes between a mother and her daughter going out for the night.
I accept a glass of juice, grab a handful of nuts from a bowl, and wander over to Finn. Seeing a person with their friends is very instructive, but tonight, I find that I merely want to be close to him. There is nobody I want to impress, not Nate, Steve or Angie. The person I like most apart from Finn is Marin. So I’ll whisper to Finn that if we could sit close to her, that would be lovely. It would be too much to say I want to sit close to him...
‘I’m not used to going out much lately,’ I say, knowing this is a huge admission, but I don’t care. If he doesn’t understand, then he isn’t the man I think he is.
One large hand pats my arm.
‘Message received. And thank you for coming. I didn’t want it to be a baptism of fire.’
‘This is nice, they’re good people.’
Rachel has just gone when there is a ring on the door, and Nate goes out to answer it. He comes in with a woman I assume is Bea, who’s tall, slightly too thin and is dressed in a pretty but old floral dress with a heavy knitted cardigan on over it. She’d be utterly beautiful if it wasn’t for that hauntingly sad look in her eyes. In fact, I can imagine her as a model when she was younger. Nate is all over her.
‘Let me take your cardigan, are you too hot, too cold, will I throw another log on the fire? Now, did you get a taxi, I told you to get a taxi because you can have a drink. You didn’t, I don’t know what’s wrong with you.’
I steal a look at Marin as this is going on. And even though nobody else appears to see this as a little over the top, Marin is watching Nate with a slightly resigned look. I sense that she is anxious about Angie because Nate seems delighted to talk to Angie and tell her how marvellous she is. But, this is different. This is like he’s taking care of Bea, some special command from his royal master and he’s doing it to the tee, because Bea is precious and must be looked after. And yet there has been none of that in his conversations with Marin, no thanks for cooking this amazing dinner.
I don’t know what it is about Nate, but he rubs me up the wrong way.
It’s not Bea’s fault. She’s not looking for this. She comes in and embraces people, comes to me, holds out her hand formally, says, ‘Hello, so nice to meet you.’ And sits down quietly. She’s compact, neat for a tall, elegant person. And I wonder about this group of friends and how they all fit together, because something just feels a little odd.
The food is fabulous. Every time I try to get up and help Marin, she says, ‘no, no sit, I can do everything.’ Angie offers too, but Marin absolutely insistsshesits down. The person who does most of the helping is Finn. Nate just sits at the head of the table, holding court, laughing, chatting, making jokes, pulling people into the conversation if he feels they are at a loss. It’s like he’s taken a course in how to be the centre of attention at every party. It’s strange, he’s one of Finn’s best friends and Finn is such a decent man. But this guy, I don’t like him. Don’t like the way he tried to touch me when we met. Nor do I like the way he’s letting Marin run around like a little creature on batteries while he just sits there. If he’s the one who loves giving dinner parties, why isn’thekilling himself ? Eventually, I get up.
‘No,’ I said calmly, as I walk behind Marin carrying some plates. ‘I am going to help, I just cannot sit down, I’m not good at sitting down. I grew up in a house where there were loads of people hanging around looking for food. And the rule of thumb was, bring your own plate back to the kitchen and wash up.’
‘You’re really kind but –’ she says.
‘No buts,’ I say.
She looks tired. She’s an attractive woman, dark hair, beautiful eyes. But she’s worn out. And I feel she didn’t really want to do this.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, suddenly knowing I’m right. ‘You had to pull all of this out of a hat because someone decided a dinner party would be a good idea, right?’
‘No, no, honestly.’ She almost looks panicked. ‘I really love having people over.’
‘Sure, but sometimes it’s nice to sit and hug your couch cushions and watch the box. I mean, I know it’s different when you have kids and a husband,’ I add, because she might think it’s different, but I feel that somehow even if I did have a husband and kids, I would be very slow to deal outdinner-party invitations the way this nice woman appears to. ‘I quite like to couch surf a bit on a Saturday night after a busy week.’
‘But I always love it when we have people over,’ protests Marin. ‘Specially this lot.’
I think of Angie in her beautiful clothes, a very poised and elegant woman, who seems perfectly nice but doesn’t have the womanly talk gene thing going for her. Watching Nate fussing over her or Bea wouldn’t be my idea of a nice evening at home.
‘You haven’t known Angie as long, no?’
Marin blinks at me. ‘Not as long as the others, no. I love her clothes, don’t you?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t do the clothes thing,’ I say. ‘I’ve a nice simple uniform going for me, and I could probably wear the same thing every single day and nobody would know. Although I do have loads of this particular outfit so I can have a new one every day for two weeks.’
Marin laughs and sits down at the table.
‘I’m terrible with clothes,’ she says. ‘I always look at Angie’s and I feel like a slob.’
‘Well, she’s five foot ten, everything hangs well when you’re five foot ten and she works out, I can tell.’
‘Sometimes I work out too,’ says Marin thoughtfully. ‘But I don’t have a lot of time.’
‘Course you don’t have a lot of time, you’ve a big job.’
