Opal walked across the patio and into the orangery. The large dining table had been moved to the side of the room and a smattering of taller, round tables at ‘standing drink and canapé’ height were dotted around. Opal weaved through the crowd, volleying hurried hellos as she went whilst avoiding being pulled into any conversations. She kept her gaze trained on her target. She had no idea what she planned to do once she reached them, only that she could no longer stand to watch them embarrass her so brazenly.
Agnes spotted her first, her smile faltering for only an instant before she regained composure. As Opal approached she watched as Agnes calmly pulled her arm from Martin’s grip.
Martin had his back to Opal, and turned to Agnes, confusedby the sudden withdrawing of affection. Opal was right behind him by the time he caught on.
‘There you are.’ Opal’s voice was a little breathless, and she chastised herself for sounding like she’d hurried over. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
Opal turned her gaze from Martin to Agnes. ‘I do hope you’ve been taking good care of him for me.’ Opal could hardly believe her own brazenness, but the adrenaline rush had taken over.
Agnes smiled sweetly, but there was a glint of discomfort in her eyes, as she glanced quickly at Martin. ‘Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to monopolise him. He and Neil were just giving me a bit of much-needed advice on which firms to intern at next summer.’
Opal looked over at Neil, who was glassy-eyed with one too many glasses of whisky. He smiled lazily. ‘That’s exactly right. Young Agnes here has a promising future ahead of her. That’s if she can stop distracting the lucky fellows in her wake long enough to get on with some actual trading.’ Neil winked at Agnes. Opal, despite herself, felt a pang of pity for the girl.
‘Well I don’t know about trading. That seems like a boys’ sport to be honest. Not a place for a lady.’ Martin looked genuinely concerned as he spoke. ‘Maybe something in the accounting department would be more appropriate. I’ve got a couple of contacts I could put you in touch with.’
Opal watched Agnes stiffen, and it occurred to her that Agnes was not far off the age that Opal was whenshe’dmet Martin. Opal too had had dreams of working then, nothing outlandish, but maybe some au pairing and then teaching in Europe. She’d almost completely forgotten that, until she sawin Agnes’s face what must have passed her face at the time: the small extinguishing of a not tightly enough held dream.
‘What are you reading at university, Agnes?’ Opal had never actually asked Debbie. There had always been an unspoken rule, perhaps because of the circumstances of how their friendship began, that Debbie would not speak about her children. Agnes’s younger brother, Tristan, was almost entirely an abstract concept to Opal. She knew little more about him than the fact of his existence.
‘I’m doing accounting and business.’ Agnes blushed and lowered her gaze into the glass she was holding. ‘But um … it’s … not university per se, well you know, London City.’
‘What she’s trying to say is that it’s a polytechnic, Opal,’ Neil chimed in with a laugh. Agnes tucked a loose, honey-coloured curl behind her ear and joined in with the laughter, but it was a hollow sound.
‘Opal and Martin here don’t know about these things you see, Aggy, because they went to reputable establishments,’ Neil continued, ‘but look at me, I ended up at Royal Agricultural, never opened a single book in all my time there, and I’m still Martin’s boss.’
Now they all had to laugh, if only to pretend none of them had picked up on the not-so-subtle digs that Neil had peppered throughout the sentence. Opal noticed that Martin was the first to stop, somewhat abruptly, before downing the rest of his glass of wine.
‘I’m getting a top-up,’ he said brusquely, before storming in the direction of the bar.
Neil raised his eyebrows as Martin left. ‘Poor Martin always has been rather salty about that,’ he muttered.
‘That was a little unfair, Neil. He worked really hard on that project for the Hong Kong meeting, and you know he’s still smarting about being taken off it …’ Agnes trailed off, and Opal realised she was staring. It was peculiar to hear someone talking about the particulars of her husband’s life, details even Opal didn’t know.
Agnes’s cheeks blushed crimson, as she came to understand how revealing her defence of Martin had been. For his part, Neil seemed to find the entire situation bemusing. Opal didn’t even notice him walk away. She knew she was making Agnes feel uncomfortable, but she couldn’t take her eyes off her. Even as Agnes squirmed under her gaze, Opal kept it trained on her face.
‘It’s strange to hear you defend my husband like that in public.’ Opal’s voice was quiet, and steadier than she’d dared to hope. She felt strangely calm. Even as a knot of nausea settled into the pit of stomach, her mind was clear.
Agnes looked back at her then, and Opal couldn’t help but notice what a startling shade of green her eyes were, how delicate her brow was, how plump her lips. Up close, Opal could see so much of the face she loved in her friend. How then could she blame anyone else for loving such a face?
‘I didn’t mean to … impose … or to umm … to step out of line.’ Agnes stumbled over her words, but her stare didn’t falter. Opal wondered if she had underestimated Agnes. She had imagined that the girl would wilt and run from her questioning, but she stood firm.
‘How do you know so much about my husband’s work life?’
‘As he said, he’s been a mentor to me. He helped me pickmy course, you know.’ Agnes smiled politely, but there was a hint of accusation in her voice.
‘I didn’t know that, no.’ Opal tried to keep her tone even.
Agnes shrugged. ‘I suppose that makes sense. Martin says that he doesn’t really bother to discuss business with you. It’s not really an interest of yours, he says.’
Opal felt the knot rise into her throat. She took a deep breath in the hope of swallowing down her rage. Far from being ashamed of her part in Martin’s adultery, Agnes seemed to think that Opal had brought it on herself.
Opal took a moment to collect herself. She was damned if she was going to let a teenager get the better of her. She reminded herself what it was like to be adored at that age, to be worshipped by a man for the first time, to think that that man was the only one capable of teaching you how to love yourself.
Opal had been that age once, and that man for her had also been Martin. But in the end he’d never followed through. Fifteen years into their marriage and Opal was still waiting for that promise of being made whole. Beneath her anger she still hoped that Agnes would not make the same mistake.
‘He’s right. His business really is of no interest to me.’ It was Opal’s turn to wield a disarming smile, and she was pleased to see that Agnes looked taken aback. They both took a sip of their drinks.
‘I better … um … see where Daddy has got to.’ Agnes seemed keen to extricate herself.
