He smiles adoringly at Angie – adoringly! There’s no other word for it and at that moment, I hate her. She’s one ofthosewomen, I decide furiously, the ones who think nothing of flirting with other women’s husbands. Does she want Nate?
Bitch.
‘Really, this looks wonderful,’ Nate says again and I feel my blood boil.
I cooked it, I want to say. She warmed the plates, nothing more. But then Nate gives me aone-armed hug and says: ‘Fabulous little chef, our Marin,’ and before I know it, they’re all holding glasses up, even the kids with theirorange-juice ones, and I’m supposed to smile, even though I’m sweaty, still wearing my apron and reeking of kitchen.
Nate hands me wine and I take a gulp before whisking off the apron.
I fix a smile to my face.Fabulous little chef?I’mover-reacting, that’s all.
‘Enjoy,’ I say, and take two more gulps of the wine. Feeling bitchy brings out my inner alcoholic tendencies.
Nate and Steve had argued over which was better: the wine Nate had chosen or the bottles Steve had brought. I hate the stupid male competitiveness between them. But right now, I don’t care which wine it is, I finish my glass far too quickly and fill it up again.
It will serve a purpose. And stop me hoping the competitiveness doesn’t extend to wives.
When the doorbell rings, I leap to my feet.
‘Bea and Luke,’ I guess, delighted that a female ally has arrived.
Bea looks so cold, she’s actually shivering. Her dark hair is plastered to her face, any mascara she’d applied earlier has slid down her cheeks and I swear there’s a blue tinge to her.
‘The tyre went flat and we had to fix it!’ says Luke, erupting happily into the house and charging off to see Joey.
Bea holds out her hands, which I now see are filthy. ‘It’s so long since I changed a tyre, I’d almost forgotten. We were stuck because I couldn’t get one of the nuts off the tyre and then this man stopped –’
‘You let a stranger help?’ says Finn, coming into the hall. ‘You should have phoned – I’d have come out.’
‘I can take care of myself,’ says Bea, waggling a penknife she’s produced from her coat pocket.
‘Hold on, Mr Attacker: just let me get the knife part out – oops, that’s the bottle opener, now wait: which end is up?’ says Finn.
‘Thanks, smartarse,’ says Bea, grinning. ‘I’m sorry I’m so late, Marin. Go ahead and eat but I’m filthy and wet. Can I borrow something?’
‘You’ll have to borrow something of Rachel’s,’ I say, feeling a wobble in myself-esteem. Am I menopausal? That could explain it. ‘My stuff will swim on you.’
Bea’s tall and naturally slender with legs that genuinely go on forever and, despite all this slenderness, has actual boobs. When I first met her, she was going out withJean-Luc, I was newly dating Nate, and Bea had been his previous girlfriend. We were earlytwenty-somethings. Stuff like that happened then. Everyone had said that Bea was so beautiful, I was more nervous of meeting her than of gaining the approval of Nate’s pals. But she was so likeable, an intense student studying French and history, which was how she andJean-Luc had hooked up; he was making a mint giving French tutorials given his Auvergne heritage.
The thing is, Bea is nothing like Angie – she never makes me feelless-than. She never notices her beauty now just as she never noticed it when we were in college and I felt both gauche and encased in puppy fat alongside her slender, fey cleverness.
If Steve had died, would I still be inviting Angie into our lives? Sexy Angie? No.
But Bea’s different. Bea has been in my life for twenty years, she’s my friend.
I grab her hand. ‘Come on upstairs. We can rifle through Rachel’s things and find you something dry.’
Upstairs, Bea refuses a shower but towels off and I find her something of Rachel’s to wear. Rachel’stwenty-seven-inch-waist jeans are perfect, as is a silky black blouse.
‘I couldn’t get a leg in those jeans,’ I say mournfully.
‘Nonsense.’
Bea is there, hugging me. She is so very affectionate and I feel for her with only Luke to be affectionate with now and no husband to hug.
‘You’re gorgeous. You’re the sexy, curvy one. I’m the one with bony knees who spent college elbowing people because my limbs had suddenly grown too large.’
We laugh at the memory.
