Love @ First Site (23 page)

Twenty Eight

T
ab is thirty-four today, so we sneak out of the office early at 5:30 p.m. to get ready for a small, celebratory dinner party she's having at home.

Having said I'd help her prepare for it, my party outfit which, let's be honest, is barely distinguishable from any other, spent most of the day scrunched up in a Sainsbury's carrier bag hanging off the back of my chair.

It's now 7:30 p.m. and we're already quite tipsy, having swigged our way through a couple of bottles of white wine. Miraculously, however, we have managed to prepare a spectacular feast of salmon mousse to start, followed by honey roast chicken and steamed vegetables, and tiramasu. Thank God for the gourmet grocer.

Tab starts to lay the long, thin table that dominates her kitchen. First, a crisp white cotton cloth, then two matching candlesticks, followed by seven place settings.

"Wait a minute." I count them again just to make sure. "You've done one too many."

"No, that's right." She looks slightly uncomfortable.

I frown and hold up my clenched fists, unfolding a finger as I say each name. "You, me, Will, Richard, Lars, and Madeleine. That's six."

Tab winces sheepishly. "I forgot to tell you. I invited Kara."

I look at her with undisguised horror. "
Please
tell me you're joking."

"No, deadly serious. Sorry."

I slump onto a chair, knees together, ankles splayed in a gesture of hopelessness.

"Why would you do that? You don't even like her."

"True, but after you told me that she and Dan had split up, I gave her a call last week just to say I hope she was feeling OK . . ."

I scoff in horror at her hypocrisy. Although, of course, I can hardly talk.

"I know, I know," she acquiesces. "But you know me, when it comes to a sad story, I'm Little Miss Sucker."

"Isn't she a porn queen?" I can't help myself.

Tab gives me a withering look. "Anyway, since then she has called me a couple of times just for a chat, and she was really quite nice. I really do think the whole Dan business has knocked the stuffing out of her a bit. So I felt a bit sorry for her and invited her along tonight."

I throw my head back in mock despair. "I've known her since school, so it's harder for me to break from her evil clutches, but you? . . . you barely know her and you've been sucked in." I make a loud slurping noise.

"Oh don't be such a drama queen," groans Tab, flicking the side of my head with a Queen's Golden Jubilee tea towel. "Don't worry, I've made sure you're at opposite ends of the table," she says, pointing to the name cards she's placed by each setting.

"Opposite ends of the
country
would be infinitely more preferable," I mumble, pouring myself another generous glass of wine. God knows, I
really
need it now.

There's a loud knocking at the front door and Tab disappears down the corridor to answer it. Reaching across to the Welsh dresser at one end of the room, I pick up a pen and start scribbling.

"Are we unfashionably first? If so, we'll walk round the block and come back again." I hear Richard's voice, moving nearer down the corridor. "Bloody hell, it's Snow White," he says, clocking the ribbon I have tied into my hair in an attempt to spruce it up a bit.

"And which dwarf are you?" I shoot back.

"Sauced already, are we?" He jerks his head towards my sprawled legs and the empty wineglass in my hand.

"Sober as a judge."

"Darling, the best six weeks of sex I ever had was with a happily married," . . . he simulates quote marks with his fingers, ". . . high court judge, and he was like a drunken sailor most of the time." He stoops down and gives me a peck on the cheek.

Lars saunters into the room behind him, a lazy smile on his face. "Hi Jessie, you good?"

"Me very good, thanks," I reply, pouring them each a glass of wine.

Richard is already moving around the table studying the name cards. When he reaches the end setting, he looks momentarily puzzled and opens his mouth to ask Tab a question. "Who's . . ."

"It's Kara," I butt in, pulling a "shut up" face at him.

"Oh, I see." He grins wickedly. "And how is the dear creature since her dreary boyfriend dumped her? Will she be drinking, or is she driving her broom here tonight?"

"She's arriving by
cab,
" says Tab. "She's coming straight from visiting her parents."

"Ooh, evening opening hours at the asylum," says Richard. "How very flexible."

I laugh loudly, suddenly looking forward to tonight's events after all, particularly with Richard in such a devilish mood.

"Stop it, you're all rotten," chides Tab. "The poor girl is devastated." She turns to glare at me. "And you should know that better than anyone, seeing as though she confided in you."

"Hardly," I scoff. "She just sent me to try and talk Dan round, because she couldn't face doing it herself in case he knocked her back again." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

"Ooooh, really?" Richard's nostrils are flaring with the scent of gossip. "You never said."

"That's because it was
supposed
to be private," I mutter, silently vowing never to drink again. I take a swig of wine. Oops.

"There shouldn't be any secrets between friends," he says in a syrupy voice. "So do tell, what did Dan say?"

"Nothing really," I lie. "Just that they both needed a break for a while."

"Yeah,
right,"
he drawls. "Oh well, I shall just have to ask Kara when she gets here."

"No, you fucking well won't!" I throw a cashew nut across the table at him.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Tab claps her hands together like a schoolteacher. "Do you two mind reeling it in a bit? It's
my
birthday and I want it to be an evening of sophistication and wit, not degenerate into mealtime with the Beverly Hillbillies."

"Sorry." We both snigger in unison.

There's the door again. This time, Lars ambles down the hallway to answer it and, seconds later, Madeleine and Will walk in, having both arrived at the same time.

Everyone equipped with a drink and seated in their respective chairs, Madeleine jerks her head towards the table. "So who are we waiting for?"

"Kara," I say flatly.

"Yes, we're all players in a new theater production of
Waiting for Godonlyknows
," quips Richard, grinding the remnant of his cigarette into the ashtray.

Tap tap tap. The wait is over.

"I'll go," says Tab quickly, clearly anxious that none of us seem capable of a cheery welcome.

She reappears with a rigid smile bolted on her face. "Look who's here everyone, it's Kara!"

She pops her head over Tab's left shoulder and gives us all a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her hair is scraped back into a ponytail, making her look more severe than usual, and she's dressed in her usual head-to-toe black. "Hello all." She bends down and rummages inside her handbag. "Before I forget, happy birthday!" She hands Tab a small, beautifully wrapped package.

"Oh, you shouldn't have!" beams our hostess, tearing at the paper to reveal a pretty silver bracelet with small fake diamonds embedded in it. Well, I
presume
they're fake.

Kara glides towards the table as if on castors, her neck ramrod straight, her expression slightly imperious as usual. "Where am I?" She hovers alarmingly by the empty space at my side, then notices that the name card reads "Tabitha."

"You're there." I point to the end of the table, where Will and Lars are already in position either side.

Picking up the name card, she reads it aloud. "Beelzebub?"

She looks for an explanation straight to Tab, who, blissfully unaware of what's going on, turns back from the sink and smiles. "Sorry?"

"It says Beelzebub on my name card." She holds it aloft.

Tab laughs. "No it doesn't, it says Kara. I wrote it myself."

I clear my throat dramatically. "Actually,
I
wrote it," I say, turning to glare at Richard, who deliberately avoids my gaze, even though the corners of his mouth twitch. "Just a little joke."

"As you can see, I'm clutching my sides," says Kara flatly, screwing up the card and lobbing it into the bin.

An uncomfortable silence descends for a few moments, with Tab busying herself by handing round the plates of salmon mousse and Will rearranging the wine bottles in the fridge.

Clearly unable to bear the conversational void any longer, Lars decides to fill it with a question. I really wish he hadn't.

"So, Jessie, did you go out wiv your married man or no?"

His words hang in the air, where I dearly hope they'll evaporate into nothing before Kara even notices they're there. No such luck.

"What married man?" She positively bristles with delight.

I sigh wearily, a lamb to the slaughter. "You remember my first Internet date . . . the one who did a bunk through the kitchens?"

Kara nods enthusiastically.

"Well, he got back in touch last week, asking if he could meet me to explain . . . I rang Lars to ask what he thought I should do."

"And me!" chimes Richard.

"And me," say Madeleine and Tab simultaneously.

"I see." Kara's tone is frosty.

"I tried calling you a couple of times, but you didn't answer," I mutter unconvincingly. "Anyway . . ." I look at Lars to show I'm talking to him. "Yes, I did go and meet him, and yes, it turned out he
was
married. With the emphasis on was. His final divorce comes through in a month's time."

"So he
says,"
scoffs Kara.

"Oh sorry, Kara, I didn't realize you know him." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Richard and Madeleine exchange "oooer" glances. I know I shouldn't rise to Kara's bait, but everything about her tonight is like a maddening itch under the collar, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let her rain on my Simon parade.

"I don't," she says with a sniff, "but you have to admit it all sounds rather implausible."

"Au contraire," I retaliate. "He offered to show me his decree nisi."

Richard places a palm against his chest and rolls his eyes. "Oh, couldn't you just
die
from the romance of it all!"

I glare at him. "Don't you bloody well start."

"So what happened after that?" It's Lars, clearly making an effort to try to return things to an even keel.

I finish off the last of my salmon mousse and push my plate to one side. "I agreed to go on another date, which took place this time last week."

"And?"
Richard leans forward, an intense look on his face.

"And what?"

He raises his eyes heavenward. "Oh, stop being so fucking coy. Did you have sex with him?"

"Certainly not," I fib indignantly. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"

"Darling, I
know
what kind of girl you are, that's why I ask."

Tab, who already knows the Simon story--without the meaningless, frenzied sex bit--starts to clear away our starter plates. Madeleine, who knows the Simon story
with
the meaningless, frenzied sex bit, says absolutely nothing. Bless her fishnet stockings.

"So is this going to be an ongoing thing?" asks Kara, clearly hoping I'm about to admit he did a bunk through the kitchens again.

"Yep. We're going to the cinema tomorrow night."

Thankfully, with the arrival of the main course, accompanied by the prerequisite oohs and aahs, everyone seems to tire of the subject of my love life and the conversation moves on to the showbiz gossip in that day's papers. Finally, as we're all cleaning our plates, Tabitha excuses herself to go to the loo.

"Where is it?" I hiss urgently at Richard the minute she's gone.

He stands up and scuttles off into the hallway, returning with a paper shopping bag with the words "Patisserie Valerie" on the side. "Ta dah!" He strikes a game-show-hostess pose.

"Quick, Will, large plate!" I bark, ripping off the packaging to reveal a sensational white chocolate cake with "Happy Birthday Tab" scrawled on top in spidery writing. Rummaging furiously in my handbag, I ram a gold candle in the middle and click my fingers at Richard to light it.

We fall back into our chairs just as Tab walks back through the door. "Now then, who'd like cof . . ." She stops mid-sentence as we start singing "Happy Birthday" and gesturing towards the cake. "Ohmigod!" She clamps a hand to her mouth. "That's just fabulous."

"Happy birthday, dear Scabby Taaaaart!" sings Richard at the top of his voice. "Happy birthday to yoooooou!"

Tab blows out the candle and we all applaud loudly, sinking gratefully back into our chairs.

As she starts to cut hefty slices and pass them round, the sound of metal clanging against glass cuts through the chitchat. It's Kara brandishing a spoon.

"First of all, thanks to Tab for inviting us all and I think, as an extra birthday treat, we should all wash up."

Furious that Kara is hijacking the proceedings as if she were a close friend of Tab's, I mutter mutinously to Richard: "I wish she'd
dry
up."

But no such luck.

"Now then,
I
have some news," she continues, the undeniable gleam of self-satisfaction in her eyes.