‘You mean you fired her?’ Jack said later that evening, as Molly raced around doing the last-minute titivating while he busied himself putting the food, that had been delivered an hour earlier, onto fine china platters. It wasn’t complicated and despite his eating far more of them than he should, she left him to it.
‘She was smoking,’ Molly said, ‘anyway, she was never very good and a million times worse since she took over the laundry. We’ll get someone better.’ She didn’t tell him how difficult that might be, how getting someone, even someone as unreliable as Terry, might be impossible. If it came to it, they’d have to do some work themselves. She was using the royal we, but she knew Jack wouldn’t lift a finger, he never had and was unlikely to start now. At the back of her head was the thought of ringing Terry and begging her to return, then the clear memory of the cigarette floating in the coffee dregs came back to make Molly shudder. No, she’d not ask her to come back. Something else would come up. Maybe one of her friends would have someone they could recommend.
With a last look around the room, she turned back to Jack who was carefully arranging prawn hors d’oeuvre around the edges of a square dish. ‘They’ll need to go in the fridge for the moment,’ she warned him. She took one, popped it into her mouth and smiled to see his irritation at the upset to the pattern he’d painstakingly made.
He rearranged the display and put the dish into the fridge. When he’d shut the door carefully and turned around, there was a bottle of beer in one hand. ‘A reward for all my hard work,’ he said, reaching into a drawer for an opener and immediately slurping the foamy beer from the neck of the bottle.
Molly swallowed the criticism she wanted to make – that it was early to start drinking – and there was a time she wouldn’t have hesitated in saying something, but his temper seemed so much more volatile recently and he took umbrage at little things that would once have rolled off his back or made him laugh.
Over half of the forty people they’d invited were his work colleagues, only a few of whom she had met before. The turnover of staff in the financial consultancy company where he worked was high; at every party there were new people and she depended on him to do the introductions and for his support to make the party a success.
‘Take it easy,’ she settled for saying before heading up to shower and change.
An hour later, she was back in a low-cut cherry-red silk dress she’d bought a few weeks before but never worn. She wasn’t sure about it, wondering if she looked a bit mutton-dressed-as-lamb, wondering too if she could carry the cherry-red colour with her auburn hair. Freya would have told her; she would have stood with her head tilted to one side and assessed her outfit carefully before breaking into a smile that was so sweet that whatever she said – good or bad – was always acceptable. Molly missed her every day.
‘What do you think?’ she asked Jack when she came back to the living room. He was standing by the window, the bottle of beer in one hand.
Turning, he raised the bottle to his mouth and took a gulp before answering. ‘Isn’t it a bit…’ He waved a hand at his chest.
She glanced down, adjusted the neckline slightly and frowned. ‘Am I showing too much cleavage?’
He waggled the bottle from side to side. ‘No, I suppose it’s fine.’
She’d hoped for you look amazing; she’d even have settled for you look nice but this damning with faint praise was upsetting. Looking down at her dress again, she hesitated. There was time to change into something else.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ Jack said, coming over and putting an arm around her waist. ‘You look lovely, don’t mind me.’
‘You sure?’ she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
‘Positive, you look amazing.’
Molly smiled. It was what she’d hoped he would say, a little later than she’d have liked but she’d take it.
Turning from him, she checked the room, straightening cushions Jack had knocked askew.
‘Relax and stop fussing,’ he said, opening the fridge and taking out another beer.
‘I want it to be perfect.’ Molly adjusted the flowers yet again, wondering if she should have chosen a different colour scheme. She took a step back and tilted her head. ‘Do you think these are a bit blah?’ When he didn’t answer, she turned, frowning to see him drinking the beer from the bottle. ‘They’ll be arriving soon, Jack, use a glass.’
‘It tastes better from the bottle,’ he said, holding it to his mouth and gulping a quarter down. ‘And the flowers look fine. It’s all fucking perfect so stop obsessing.’
Molly blinked. Jack rarely swore. ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting everything to be–’
‘Perfect,’ he interrupted before holding the bottle to his mouth again and draining it. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know but lighten up a bit.’
Lighten up a bit? There was nothing wrong with wanting everything to go well, was there? He was the one always keen to impress work colleagues. Molly turned away, hurt feelings forming a lump in her throat.
Luckily for the success of the party, Jack reached for her, pulling her back into a hug. ‘I’m sorry, Mol,’ he whispered, his lips buried in her hair. ‘It’s my night for apologies. I’ve a lot on my mind, it’s making me grumpy.’
Don’t take it out on me! The words were on the tip of her tongue and she’d have used them if the doorbell hadn’t chimed, silencing her. She pulled away from his embrace. ‘I suppose I’d better let them in.’
Forty people had been invited and almost everyone turned up. By eight-thirty, the room was buzzing with the sound of laughter and conversation. Molly moved from group to group with a wine bottle in her hand, topping up glasses, adding comments into conversations, introducing newer friends to older ones, work colleagues of hers to work colleagues of his.
‘Have something to eat,’ she urged everyone, waving towards where the hors d’oeuvres were laid out. ‘And don’t worry, we didn’t make them,’ she added to a chuckle of amusement from those friends who knew her well. She was, as she’d rush to admit, not a good cook.
Nods of appreciation came from those who did partake of the food, and Molly was pleased to see Jack doing his bit. He was standing chatting to Amelia, one of her oldest friends. He didn’t like many of her female friends, found them too domineering, too, as he always phrased it, in your face.
Too intelligent. That’s what she thought. Her friends were vocal, clever, bright women who took no prisoners. She never told him, because he’d have been horrified, but in the intelligence stakes, he lagged far behind most of them. It hadn’t been his brain she’d fallen for. She’d been swayed by the humour in his blue eyes, his cheeky grin and the way his dark-blond hair curled back from his forehead like a Roman emperor. From the first time they’d met she knew he was the one, and twenty-one years later although he frequently drove her crazy she loved him just as much.
She watched as Amelia threw her head back and laughed at something he was saying and smiled. The party was a success. Molly allowed herself to relax.
She turned to chat to a group of Jack’s work colleagues, the new ones, the stalwart few long-timers like Charlie Forster and a couple of others who’d been with them for several years. She greeted Charlie with a smile and a kiss on both cheeks. ‘It’s been a while,’ she said, looking around for his wife. ‘Zara not here?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘Didn’t Jack tell you? We split up. About six months ago.’
Colour flared in Molly’s cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, Jack never said.’ Suddenly claustrophobic, she pointed towards the garden. ‘It’s very warm in here, I’ll go and open the back door.’
Molly pushed the French doors open and stepped into the chilly night, feeling immediate relief. Why hadn’t Jack told her about Charlie and Zara? He should have warned her. How damn embarrassing. She’d return and apologise, but it was a couple of minutes before her body temperature returned to normal. Bloody hormones. She flicked her hair, pinned a smile in place and headed back into the party.
She looked around for Charlie and saw him in the far corner of the room deep in conversation with Jack, their heads together, both looking serious. Talking shop, Molly guessed. She’d give them a few minutes, then go and drag them apart before more of their colleagues joined in and it ended up being a work meeting. She wondered what happened between Charlie and Zara. Maybe Jack was giving him a pep talk. She hoped so. She liked Charlie, he was one of those people who brightened a room when he walked in and unlike some financial types, didn’t take himself too seriously.
Not like another of the long-timers, Stuart Mercer, who was making a beeline for her, a crooked smile on his lips that she guessed he thought made him look interesting. It didn’t; he was handsome in a bland, forgettable way, the twisted smile made him look as if he’d swallowed something unpleasant. She hoped her social smile didn’t look too false as she greeted him. ‘Hi Stuart, I thought you were still in Hong Kong.’
‘No, thank goodness,’ Mercer said. ‘I’ve been London-based now for a few months. Hong Kong lost its magic after the first year, to be honest. I’ve had a promotion; it’ll keep me here for the foreseeable.’
‘A promotion? Congrats, Jack never said.’ Seriously, she’d have to have a word with her husband. It would be nice to know these things so that she didn’t look a complete twat when she spoke to his colleagues. ‘I wish Jack didn’t have to travel so much. He’s already been to Vegas several times this year and has to go back next month.’ She laughed. ‘He keeps asking me to come with him, but it holds no allure for me, I’m afraid. Now, Hong Kong,’ she added, ‘I’d have gone there all right.’
‘Vegas,’ Stuart said, a puzzled line appearing between his eyes. ‘I didn’t realise we had business there.’ He shook his head. ‘We work in the same building, but we might as well work in separate cities. Since my return, I’ve been so busy between the promotion and moving to a new house that I’ve had no time to catch up with what’s happening with everyone. Travelling as much as I did was quite isolating, it’ll be good to be settled.’
Molly felt a twinge of pity for the man as she recognised the hint of longing in his eyes; he was lonely. Perhaps she could fix him up with one of her friends. She rested a hand on his arm and leaned closer. ‘You know what you need, Stuart,’ she said, and was about to suggest introducing him to one of her single girlfriends when a commotion on the far side of the room claimed her attention. ‘Oh dear, I’d better go and see what’s up,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I’ll catch up with you later, okay?’
The commotion was nothing more than a dropped glass and spilt wine, but there’d been enough alcohol consumed at this stage to turn a minor incident into a tragedy. Brenda, one of her work colleagues, flushed with embarrassment and alcohol, muttered, ‘I’m so sorry,’ and dabbed uselessly at the small puddle of wine with a scrap of tissue.
‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it,’ Molly insisted, manoeuvring her out of the way, trying to stop another guest, whose name she couldn’t remember, from picking up the pieces of shattered glass with his fingers. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘Please, if everyone would move back, it’ll be sorted in a jiffy.
Her words, cajoling but firm, did the job. Guests moved and were soon engrossed in conversation.
Left to clean up the mess, Molly fetched a paper towel, dustpan and brush. The glass had flown across a corner of the room. She had to stretch under a low coffee table to brush some out, banging her head as she did so, swearing softly under her breath.
‘I heard that.’
Molly straightened with a dustpan filled with glass in one hand, rubbing her head with the other. ‘You were lucky that was all you heard,’ she said, turning to smile at Amelia. ‘I’ve barely spoken to you. Let me get rid of this and we can have a natter.’
A few seconds later, with a quick look around to make sure everyone had their glass full, Molly gripped her friend’s elbow and led her from the room. ‘Come into the study,’ Molly said, pushing the door open, and waving her in. ‘I need five minutes to recoup my strength.’
‘It’s getting a bit rambunctious.’ Amelia pulled a chair from under a desk, sat into it and looked around. ‘What are you going to do with this room now that the kids have left?’
Molly frowned. ‘They’ll be back.’ She ignored the raised eyebrow that was her friend’s only comment. ‘Anyway, tell me what you’ve been up to?’ She tilted her head. ‘Love your dress, by the way.’
‘This old thing?’ Amelia ran her fingers over the fabric before laughing. ‘I bought it last week. It’s pretty fab, isn’t it?’
‘Fab,’ Molly agreed. She and Amelia had met in university and they’d maintained an erratic friendship over the years. Amelia had married her older hotel manager boyfriend, Tristan, shortly after graduating and spent the next several years following him from one far-flung city to the other. Only a rare meeting when she was in the UK, the occasional long email and in recent years short WhatsApp messages had kept the friendship alive.
‘How are the renovations going?’ Molly asked. Six months ago, when Tristan had retired, they’d bought a two-storey apartment in Pembridge Square Gardens. Molly had had serious house envy when she’d seen it.
‘Almost finished,’ Amelia said with a toss of her expertly-highlighted blonde hair. ‘Everything should be done by the end of next month; we’ll have a party to celebrate.’
‘Great,’ Molly said. ‘I think I prefer going to them rather than giving them.’
‘You give good parties. Free-flowing alcohol always helps.’ Amelia looked at her from under her lashes. ‘I met Stuart Mercer recently at a party in the Hong Kong embassy. He’s an attractive man.’ She leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘He’s been giving you some strange looks. Is there something you’re not telling me?’
‘Don’t be silly! He struck me as being lonely, that’s all, and I was about to suggest setting him up with one of my single friends when that idiot Brenda made such a drama out of dropping a glass.’
Amelia arched a plucked eyebrow. ‘It looked to me like he was more interested in you, he was certainly staring at your ass when you bent down.’
‘You always did have a vivid imagination,’ Molly said, shaking her head.
‘If you say so.’ A shrug of one shoulder said as clear as words that Amelia wasn’t convinced.
Molly smiled at her. ‘I do say so. Jack is still enough for me.’
‘Not surprising, he’s still one of the sexiest men I’ve ever met.’
For a microsecond, Molly thought she saw a look of lust cross her friend’s face and felt a pang of anxiety. It had been over twenty years since they were naïve university students who had bonded in a collective struggle to survive, but different life experiences had moulded them into women who had very little in common. Truth was, she wasn’t sure she even liked Amelia much anymore. Recently, Molly had been taken aback to discover that her friend’s idea of fidelity was to sleep with one man at a time.
‘Fidelity,’ Amelia had said after a couple of cocktails, ‘is vastly overrated.’
Had Molly imagined the look of lust? After all, they were friends – she wouldn’t, would she? Would Jack? They’d looked very friendly when she’d seen them laughing together earlier… too friendly?
She caught Amelia staring at her with a look of concern and managed to smile. ‘We’d better go back; they might be running out of drink.’
‘Before you go,’ Amelia said, holding a hand up to stop her. ‘Tristan and I are going away next Saturday for a few days. It’s a bank holiday weekend. Why don’t you and Jack join us? There’s a golf course but the hotel is also a health spa with a pool and a top-of-the-range gym. It would be a lovely break.’
Nowadays, with no school schedule to adhere to, Molly hadn’t even realised a bank holiday weekend was imminent. They used to organise to go away as a family, Freya and Remi excited no matter where they were going, as happy to go to Devon as France or Italy. She’d fully intended to book a nice weekend somewhere for herself and Jack, but she’d forgotten about it.
‘Do come,’ Amelia pushed. ‘It would be so much fun.’
Maybe a weekend away with Amelia and Tristan would be fun. Jack was a good golfer; he’d enjoy winning a game or two. ‘Do you think we’d get a room at this late stage?’
Amelia smiled, pulled a mobile phone from a tiny clutch bag and seconds later was making an enquiry. ‘They have a room available,’ she said, holding her hand over the phone. ‘Say yes.’
Why not? Molly made a snap decision and nodded. ‘Yes, why not.’
‘You’ll love it,’ Amelia said, putting her phone away after making the reservation. ‘It’s a beautiful and incredibly peaceful place a little outside Semington, in Wiltshire. ‘The hotel gardens sweep down to a canal that’s perfect for walking or running alongside. You still run, don’t you?’
‘I do,’ Molly said. The thought of running along a canal in the country rather than the footpaths of London was very appealing. ‘It sounds amazing, thank you.’
All she had to do now was convince Jack it was a good idea. How hard could that be?