‘Hope none of you mind me gatecrashing,’ I say.
‘Don’t be silly. The more the merrier – I’m not cooking,’ she grins.
I can’t remember the last time I saw Rose, but she’s as striking as ever, tall and slim, with long, red hair. You’d never guess what a difficult time she’s had over the last year or so – but then she never was the type of person to takeanythinglying down. She is the most outspoken of the group, confident and fiercely loyal to her friends and her sweet, devoted husband.
‘How are you?’ I ask, tentatively.
‘Great!’ she smiles automatically, then catches herself. ‘Oh, you mean health-wise?’
After her breast cancer diagnosis, Rose had to undergo surgery and a long course of treatment, but was given the all-clear in the summer.
‘Well, this is not a year I ever want to repeat, but I feel loads better than I was expecting, much more my old self,’ she continues.
‘That’s really good to hear.’
‘And I’m having a career change, did you hear? I jacked in my old job and am now in training to be a teacher. The miracles of modern science . . .’
‘Choosing to spend every day with thirty kids? Thatwouldtake a miracle,’ Lisa adds, handing a bottle of wine to Jeff.
She looks happy and relaxed too, but I’m so out of the loop that it’s only as we sit down to eat that I discover why, when Jeff mischievously drops into conversation that she has ‘taken a new lover’. The phrase makes Lisa choke on her drink and Nora splutter with laughter.
‘Thank you for that,’ Lisa says, wiping her mouth. ‘You make it sound like there have beendozensbefore him. And anyway, it’s been months. He’s not new anymore.’
In truth, while Lisaisa two-time divorcee, that headline doesn’t give an entirely accurate picture of her romantic history. She did once admit that a tin of tuna at the back of her kitchen cabinet outlasted her first husband, but attributes that marriage, while at university, to a ‘rush of blood to the head’. She was convinced that her second, to a forgettable guy called Brian – or possibly Brendan – was for keeps. Except he had one of those classic midlife crises, which started with him dating a younger woman and reached its sad and inevitable conclusion when he mentioned to Lisa recently that he was thinking of starting a podcast.
I get the impression she’s better off without him. Lisa is an everyday superwoman, raising two kids, excelling at her job as a senior TV executive, never really pausing to relax. I’vealways liked her. She’s funny and down to earth, but also, I feel an affinity with her as a single parent, even if I became husbandless for a very different reason than she did.
‘What’s your boyfriend called, Lisa?’ I ask.
Her ears look a little warm as she fights the smile on her face. ‘His name’s Zach. We met at work, after he was brought in from the LA office, temporarily at first. But then he stayed . . .’
‘Oh, is he American?’ I ask.
‘Yes, and he’slovely,’ Jeff gushes. ‘He reminds me of Patrick Duffy in hisDallasdays.’
Lisa shakes her head. ‘I can’t tell you how much I wish you’d stop saying that.’
‘It’s a compliment!’ he protests.
‘You have no idea how much Jeff loved Bobby Ewing,’
I reassure Lisa. ‘He can narrow down the moment he realised he wasn’t into girls to a single three-minute scene in that show.’
‘I think you’ll find that was Tom Selleck inMagnum PI,’
he corrects me and starts to dish up.
I should never have doubted Jeff’s hosting abilities. The casserole is delicious, as is the Waitrose torte that follows, and he never ever allows anyone’s glass to be empty.
‘No more,’ Nora protests unconvincingly, as he tries to top her up, then realises this isn’t a battle she’ll win. ‘Oh, go on then, you’ve twisted my arm.’
Of the three other women here, I probably know Nora better than the others. She is one of those people who always seems to have a smile on her face: a kind, optimistic soul against whom nobody has a bad word to say. At least, that’s how I remember her in the days when I’d see her more regularly.
When Ed was alive, he played five-a-side with her husband Iain and they became one of those couples who we’d regularly have over for drinks or a barbecue, along with theirtwo kids, Olivia, who’s studying to be a dentist, and Jack, who must be nine or ten now. I still see her every so often when she’s heading into the tennis club, but I can’t remember the last time I spent an evening with her. She and Iain wereourfriends, rather than mine. They belonged to Ed and me, together. After he died, I couldn’t bear accepting dinner invitations – from her or anyone else – when there would always be one empty space, even if it wasn’t actually set.
Then there was Frankie. Thirteen is an unbearable age to lose a parent and I owed her as much of my own time as possible. I subconsciously distanced myself from everyone except the family I had left: Jeff, my parents, Frankie. It’s only now she’s gone, as I watch my brother laughing with these women, that I find myself asking:When did I become so friendless?
‘I hope you haven’t got many students tomorrow,’ Rose tells her. ‘Though I’m guessing Saturday morning is not a particularly quiet time for a tennis instructor?’
