We arrive at Deb’s house for dinner. As Seb rings the doorbell, I huddle close to him, with Ana close behind. The ocean breeze adds an icy bite to an already cold evening. It’s only six, but it’s dark out, the fog hovering over the water. It’s so close I can touch it.
“Here you are!” Deb exclaims, brimming with energy as she opens the door and ushers us in. The house smells like food and my belly rumbles. A proper British roast, Deb promised. We hang our coats and follow the smell coming from the kitchen. There’s a different feel to the house at night. In the daylight, it’s stark and modern, a direct contrast to its ancient, gloomy surroundings. But as the darkness settles, the house is filled with a soft, warm glow.
Or I might just be excited to be here. To drink wine, banter and eat familiar food.
We enter the house, and there’s a man standing by the kitchen island.
“Welcome,” he beams.
Deb’s husband is large. Probably a foot taller than her. He’s handsome, too. As handsome as a man double my age can be, anyway. There’s an edge to his features, striking and bold, with piercing blue eyes.
“Richard, how are you?” Seb says, walking over and shaking his hand.
“I see you brought the good stuff,” Richard replies, taking the bottle of red from Seb. What a party trick, I think. Bringing wine made from your own vineyard to a dinner party. How many people can do that?
Richard greets Ana like he’s known her since she was a child. When he introduces himself to me, I catch a whiff of his minty cologne. His gaze lingers on my face for a moment too long, then down my chest. I should be mildly rattled, but my cheeks flush instead.
We pour the wine and take our seats in the living room, the men standing.
“How is Alma doing?” Deb asks Ana.
“Much better. She’s at home resting. They say she’ll make a full recovery in a few weeks.” Even Ana seems happier tonight, her eyes dazzling. Seb’s smiling too.
It’s like they’ve never argued before.
“Richard, Deb tells me you’ve been travelling a lot,” Ana says. Her posture is perfect, thin legs elegantly folded over one other.
“Yes, it’s been back and forth to the UK. But some interesting ventures. It’s all very exciting.”
“So, no more Bilbao?” Seb asks.
“God no, that’s far behind me,” he chuckles. But as he speaks, Deb’s eyeing her wine, her lips thin.
“And how’s Barcelona been, Ana?” Richard asks, standing with one hand in his chino pocket.
“Busy, always busy with the kids. They’re adorable, but a handful.”
“Next time you should bring them along!” Deb exclaims, and I watch the wine sloshing around in her glass. I try to picture Ana as a mother. Looking at her tiny body, it’s impossible to imagine two children came out of her.
Richard’s question brings me back to the moment. “How are you adjusting to Spanish life?”
“It’s interesting,” I say, and everyone laughs like they were expecting me to say that. “I’ve never been to Spain, but this isn’t what I expected. Not in a bad way, just not what I expected.”
“Not a Brit on each beachside corner, you mean,” Richard smiles. “At least you get some quiet here. And privacy.”
“It’s like nothing has changed,” Seb says. “I see they still haven’t fixed that dock.”
He motions out the bay window into the darkness, and all our heads follow.
Deb shrugs. “It’s a hazard waiting to happen. They should just block it off and be done with it.”
I think of the dock, the overgrown grass hiding the worn-down wooden walkway. The timber railing shattered into splinters.
“I still remember when a few people tried to fish down there,” Ana says, looking at me. “Since it’s so secluded, we had people bring fishing rods. But I don’t think they ever caught anything.”
“It’s better like that,” Richard says. “I don’t like having strange people on our street.”
Deb gets up too fast from the couch, sending a ripple through the couch cushions.
“Whoops,” she says as she straightens her dress, a loose yellow fabric hanging from her body. “I should check on dinner.”
Seb and Richard start discussing the family winery, so I walk to the kitchen, finding Deb’s face buried in the oven. She’s scraping potatoes from the sides of the baking dish, the edges burnt.
“Need any help?” I ask.
She takes the pan out with an oven mitt, places it on the counter. “You can keep me company.”
I watch her turn the vegetables and put them back in the oven. She stirs the gravy. When she speaks again, she’s eyeing me up and down. “I love your dress. You always look so good.”
I grin. “I do most of my shopping online. It’s a struggle to find my size in actual stores.”
Deb shrugs, looks down at her sack of a dress. “I’ve been struggling with that for years.”
“What are we talking about?” Ana asks, placing her wine glass on the island.
“I was just complimenting Lisa on her clothes. We were discussing how hard it is for women like us to find clothes our size.”
Women like us. She thinks we’re the same size. I’ve never been small, but then again, I didn’t think I was as large as her. It shouldn’t bother me, but now I can hear your voice in my head again, saying those awful words. The ones you said at the wedding.
“Lisa’s clothes are fantastic,” Ana says, appreciation spreading across her face. “Didn’t you tell me you buy everything online?”
I nod, burying my face in my wine glass. It’s not a complete lie. Eleanor often sends me links to things online, but in a way, I’m still the one completing the purchase. In an effort to try and forget about my size, I say, “Deb, I can help you buy some clothes. I know ASOS sizes pretty well.”
Her eyes widen. “Would you?”
“Sure,” I say. “I can come by this week, and we can pick out some things together.”
Elation spreads across her face. “We can use the computer in the study and—”
“Excuse me.”
Richard’s voice is a surprise as he passes through the hallway and out of the backdoor. From the window, we watch him in the garden. His profile is dark and his back is turned, phone clutched to his ear. When we turn back to Deb, she’s still looking at him. The elation is gone, her features darkening.
“Deb?” I ask. “You were saying?”
Ana and I share a glance, then look back at Deb, who seems to have not heard my question, her eyes still locked on Richard.
“Business never sleeps for him, does it,” Seb says, making his way to the island, his handsome grin sitting comfortably on his face. But as the quiet extends, the grin fades.
“Just give me one second,” Deb says.
She plants her glass on the counter. She storms towards Richard in the garden, his back still turned. She grabs the phone from his hand. We avert our eyes as the muffled shouts start. Ana sips wine as we share awkward glances, the background of yells impossible to ignore. I look to the oven, the chicken glistening. Deb’s words break through from the garden and make me flinch.
Embarrassment. Disrespect. Twat.
“Should we leave?” Seb asks, scratching at his knee.
Ana shakes her head, her voice a whisper. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s give them a few minutes,” I say.
There’s a thud and we turn our heads to the garden, but there’s no sign of either Deb or Richard.
“Okay, maybe we should go now,” Ana says, putting down her wine glass. But then Richard’s back in the kitchen, a gleam of sweat on his brow.
“Apologies, guys.” He leans his elbows on the table like he’s about to confide in us. When he speaks, the words come out controlled. “I think Deb’s had a little too much to drink.”
“Is she okay?” Ana asks, her eyes darting to the garden. “Where is she?”
“She’s getting some air—out back.”
Richard turns to the oven, switches it off. “I’m afraid she’s not well enough to join us for dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”
Pressure mounts as we exchange quick glances, looking unsure of who should speak first.
“That’s all right,” Ana finally says. “Is there anything we can do?”
Richard shakes his head, smiles. “We’ll be all right.” He glances at the glasses still in our hands and takes a deep breath. “Well, it was great having you three over for some wine, at least.”
My eyes dart to Seb as I realise what’s happening. He’s expecting us to leave. Right now.
By the look on Seb’s face, he’s just as surprised as I am. Like a sheepdog guiding sheep, Richard leads us to the front door, leaving our half-drunk wine on the island. The smell of the roast still fresh in our nostrils.
Richard slams the door, leaving us on the street. We stand there for a moment, then Ana that starts walking down the street first.
“What was that?” I ask.
Seb’s hands are in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. Without answering me, a torrent of Spanish flows from his mouth, aimed at Ana. We keep walking and she’s silent, her heels click-clacking on the tar.
“Seb, what are you saying?” I ask.
“I’m saying that was rude.”
“They clearly had a fight,” Ana says, turning on her heels. “I wonder what about?”
“Whatever it was, Deb wasn’t happy,” I say.
“I’ll make us something to eat at home,” Ana offers.
Seb and I nod. As we walk home, he places his arm around me, something he hasn’t done since I scolded him for shouting at his sister a few days ago. It feels good, having him touch me again. In this moment, we’re like a team, pairing up against something strange that’s just unfolded before us. Even Ana seems to share this newfound camaraderie.
But the energy is dissipating quickly, the cold dragging it from my bones. I stop and turn back to Deb’s place, eyes searching for a sign. A movement, a sound. Anything to know that she’s okay.
“Lisa,” Seb calls from the house, a few feet ahead of me. “Come inside, it’s freezing.”
I wait for a beat, then two, then three. Then I turn and walk towards my fiancé.