Tales for the Fireside - Five Stories of Love and Friendship

by Lisa Dyer

  Evie rested her shoulder on the door frame between hall and living room and studied him. He wasn’t her usual type but he had money and connections, all of which she needed.

  She crossed the room and slipped her arms around his waist, her fingers finding the knotted belt which she swiftly pulled loose.

  Tony turned in her arms, setting down the wine glass on the shelf beside him. He pulled her close, as she slipped her hands inside his robe. Tony kissed her neck, moving his easily her body.

  “Honey, let’s take this to the bedroom,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear.

  ***

  Jules frantically scrabbled through drawers and boxes, books and backs of photograph frames taking out amounts of money as she did.

  Highly agitated she looked wildly around the room as she explored and then discarded potential hiding holes for the money she’d been squirreling away.

  This stash of money, which she had gathered through careful management of the household budget, was her fall back. It amounted to several thousand pounds and would get her a train ticket, a deposit on a flat and something to live off until she could find her feet. It was what kept her sane; knowing it was there, knowing that if she ever found the courage, she had the means.

  She finally settled on the pocket of a jacket that is kept inside a plastic clothes protector. Jules knew that Craig wouldn’t go near her wardrobe. As she closed the door, feeling relieved, he walked in from his shower. The few seconds of calm she had experienced evaporated in an instance. She grabbed her robe and dashed into the en-suite.

  Craig glanced about the room as if noticing that something was amiss but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He heard the shower go on and, with a quick listen at the door to make sure he could hear her showering, he pulled out his mobile and made a call.

  He lay down on the bed and got himself comfortable.

  “So, you dirty bitch, tell me what you're wearing.”

  The evening of the reunion

  “I don't know why you've gone to so much trouble. It's bloody Manor Park for God's sake; it's not like you're going to a decent school reunion with people worth keeping in contact with.”

  Jules pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the tears.

  Craig snatched up the dress Jules had carefully laid out on the bed. “So, how much of my money have you spent on this little number?”

  He tugged at the dress, a pale blue silk sheath dotted with delicate seed pearls.

  “I paid for it.”

  Craig tossed the dress back onto the bed. “You earn money, do you? Since when?”

  “Well, I...”

  He loomed over her and she could feel herself diminish in size.

  “No, you don't.” he was right in her face now. She could smell the garlic on his breath from the dinner she’d prepared earlier. “I give you an allowance so therefore I paid for it. And I don't appreciate you spending the money I give you for the home on tat for your school reunion.”

  “You don't want me to look nice?” she tried to appeal to his sense of superiority. He knew that the dress would have come from one of the boutiques in Hatsby Row, a mews of exclusive shops that ran off the main High Street.

  “You look cheap,” he spat and then added insult to injury “I'd be ashamed to be seen with you if I were going which, of course, I'm not.”

  “I explained. Only those who actually went to Moorfields were invited. I'm not keeping you away.”

  “I wouldn't want to go.” He was prowling he bedroom now, hand thrust in his trouser pocket. “Waste my time with those losers you call friends. I'd rather chew my own leg off.”

  Jules dropped the dress to the floor and stepped inside, pulling it up over her slim legs and slight frame. She knew better than to ask him to zip her up so she managed it somehow.

  He jealously eyed her. She looked amazing and he knew she would turn heads in that hall, amongst those her husband deemed to be failures. She wasn’t a trophy wife – he could have had any number of women that would have satisfied that criteria. No, he wanted someone who had no ambition beyond a fine home, two expensive holidays a year – summer and winter, was willing to keep the house immaculate, cook him the best meals and most importantly of all, make him look good. He’d found all of that in Jules, a little mouse of girl who nobody wanted and who was grateful for the attention. It was an exchange – her loyalty for his money and connections. How else would a girl from Manor Park have been able to go out and buy that dress, from that shop?

  “It does absolutely nothing for you, you know. You've always had a bit of an arse.”

  Jules turned her back on him and without dignifying him with an answer she left the room.

  “Yeah, well, just remember,” she heard him shout after her. “It's me you're coming home to.”

  Jules paused on the stairs. ‘how can I forget?’

  ***

  Liam could feel his own reluctance to finish getting ready steadily growing in him. He’d had mixed feelings about the reunion since the day he’d bumped into Damian who had enthusiastically told him about the plan. He knew it was all a game of one-upmanship and he’d have to play along. It would be like a live version of Facebook; all the edited highlights, the shining façade with the lies and the bitterness and the failures hidden from view.

  Slowly he put on his jacket, adjusted the collar of his shirt, and then slipped on his TAG Heuer watch before he studied himself in the mirror. Not liking what he saw reflected back, he turned off the lamp, dimming the view before him and pocketed the invitation.

  Finally, he checked his walled for cash and noticed the business card that Tony had given him. For a split second, he gave it some consideration before slipping it back into his wallet which he slipped into his jacket pocket

  With a slow step and half a mind to tear off his jacket, yank off his tie and toss the invite into the bin, Liam grabbed his keys and left the flat.

  ***

  Andy exited the house leaving Olivia to do her usual routine of double checking everything was turned off and the door properly locked.

  As he was about to get in the car he saw his wife stop by the passenger door.

  “Oh, for crying out loud. I’ve caught my tights!”

  Andy peered over the top of the car to see Olivia squirming on the other side.

  “Well, take them off; nobody will notice.”

  “I'm not going without tights. Look, you go on, I'll go back in and get changed.”

  “It's okay, I can wait,” replied Andy reasonably. “Don’t see any sense in taking two cars.”

  “Just go,” Olivia nearly snapped his head off. “If we get there too late, we'll never get a decent seat and end up sitting next to...”

  “Who?”

  “I don't know, someone I'm not likely to want to spend the evening making small talk to. I'll be five minutes behind you.”

  Andy knew that it was no use continuing the conversation and so he got into the car; a part of him pleased he didn’t have to suffer the journey with her moaning all the way.

  Olivia waited for his car to disappear down the road and then she ran to her own, jumped in and drove off in the opposite direction.

  ***

  Evie's car pulled up on the immaculately kept gravel of Jules’ drive.

  Jules’ emerged from the house a few moments later and Evie literally caught her breath. Her friend was transformed from dowdy housewife to super glamourous party goer.

  Jules’ spotted the look on her friend’s face and immediately felt self-conscious. What was she thinking getting all dressed up like she was going to some kind of swanky do? Maybe she should go back in and throw on a perfectly serviceable dress she’d pick up from M&S.

  Evie noted the change in her friend’s countenance and immediately she knew exactly what was going through her head. She opened the car door and half stood out.

  “Don’t you dare, lady!” she warned. “Come on, get in,”

  Buoyed by knowin
g that Evie would be by her side the whole time, Jules’ got in and smoothed down the dress as she did.

  “I suppose he's throwing the mother of all sulks?” said Evie as she carefully maneuvered her car around the driveway.

  Jules nodded.

  “Tosser.” She cast a look at Jules “You look gorgeous.”

  “I don't think anyone will think that.”

  “You say that because he tells you otherwise. Like he's God's gift to the world.” Evie checked the traffic on the quiet street and pulled away. “If he smiled he'd crack his face.”

  Within a few moments, another car pulled up and took the place only recently vacated by Evie.

  Craig answered the ring on the doorbell.

  “God, I thought she'd never leave!”

  Craig looked out at Olivia’s car and said in a shaky tone: “You can't leave it there. What if she comes back?”

  Olivia smiled sardonically and began to slowly unbutton her summer coat whilst at the same time adopting a cat like prowl. “What if she does?”

  Her prey was transfixed as one button after another was undone and a hint of naked flesh revealed itself.

  Craig's eyes were out on stalks. He grabbed her for a kiss as she pushed them into the house, their movements hungry and fanatic. The door slammed behind them and they didn’t make it any further.

  ***

  Evie and Jules took a few moments to savour

  the view of the school from the car park.

  “I remember rushing down the path so we could bump into the boys coming out of games,” she said, giving Jules a slight nudge of the elbow to encourage her participation in this game of memories.

  “I remember having my first proper snog…” Jules began.

  “Open mouth?”

  “Very open mouth,” Jules continued, feeling the creep of a blush over her cheeks. “With Carl Wilton, just over there.”

  “I remember waiting outside that hall for Gordon Baxter to turn up for the fourth form Valentine's Disco and the bastard stood me up.” Gordon Baxter had been the darling of the fourth form and Evie had been euphoric at securing him as her date. It took a while to live that one down

  “I remember being asked to that Valentine's Disco by Ed, and Susan Philips threatening to kick six bails out of me if I went with him, so I said no.”

  A silence fell on the two women.

  “Do you think he'll be here tonight?” asked Evie in an attempt to broach the very big elephant in the room.

  Jules shrugged; part of her hoped so very much that he was. Not because of any romantic inclination on her part but because he was a part of her past and he had never quite left her heart. There was another part of her though, a bigger part, that wanted him to remain firmly fixed in her memory, safe, unaltered, and young.

  Evie took Jules’ hand and slips it through her arm. “Let's go and find out.”

  Jules pulled back. “I…I don't know whether I want to...see him.”

  “Oh God, you've been having that fantasy again, haven't you? The one that involves Ed Moore never marrying because he never got over you.”

  Jules mouth gaped open.

  “Okay, reality check,” said Evie swiftly before her friend could protest. “He's tall, impossibly good-looking...”

  “How do you know? He might be bald and fat.”

  “I Googled him, so sue me and do you want to know what I found out?”

  Jules feigned disinterest but her insides were churning with butterflies. She wanted so badly to know but at the same time, really, she didn’t. She didn’t want to know because then her memories would be meaningless.

  “Owns his own security company with contracts in the Middle East...turned over a couple of million last year...still not interested?”

  “I'm married.”

  “Yeah, but he's not.”

  Jules’ mouth gaped open.

  “You'll catch flies. Let's go. This is one evening that you're going to forget that husband of yours and leave him to stew in his own juices.”

  ***

  Leanne had prepared everything to perfection. She stood inside the double doors that led into the school hall and viewed everything with a critical eye. The food look fabulous, the bar was doing a brisk trade and the DJ had listened to her instructions to play unobtrusive music until she gave the signal that the real party could kick off.

  She was pleased to see that there was plenty of laughter and chatting and that nobody was sitting like a wallflower wishing they’d stayed at home.

  Leanne felt relieved and glanced up at the little hatch high up in the wall of the hall. She could see Damian looking out over the slowly gathering crowd. He glanced down at her and gave her a wave and was rewarded with a smile.

  Evie and Jules entered the hall and, after handing over their invites collected their name badges. Jules awkwardly held onto hers, reluctant to let the delicate fabric be marred by a pin. She felt Evie give her a nudge and, for a split second, she felt her heart leap up into her throat. She looked up, half expecting to see Ed but saw only Evie trying to discreetly indicate that there was a name badge for him.

  Just as the two friends had moved off to find a drink, Andy arrived. He checked his watch as he was handed his name badge.

  “Andy! Hi!”

  Leanne kissed him on the cheek “Livvie not here?”

  “Er…yeah, I mean…well…not quite; wardrobe malfunction. She should be coming soon.”

  If only Andy had known how true those words were for at that very moment Olivia was, indeed, reaching a very loud climax in the shower, as Craig frantically thrusted, reaching his own less vocal but long climax several seconds later.

  “Well that's good,” said Leanne brightly. “Anyway, I should go and mingle.”

  Leanne crossed the floor to where Jules and Evie stood clutching their wine glasses and pointing to various people in the room. Andy's eyes, full of quiet longing, followed her.

  “I raise my glass to you,” said Evie, with a swift air kiss to Leanne’s cheek. “Where's Damian?”

  “Busy backstage.”

  The words were scarcely out of her mouth when the music wound down and the D.J called for everyone’s attention. Slowly, the chatter died down and a spotlight hit the centre of the curtains that obscured the stage.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the D.J. “I give you the Class of '88'.”

  The curtains swished open to reveal a screen with the school motto 'Stabilis quod Verus.' (Steadfast and True) projected onto it.

  This faded out to be replaced by collection of cine footage from various events in the school year and over the time that the Class of '88 would have been at the school - fetes, plays, speech days, sports matches, sports day.

  The guests lapped it up, cheering and laughing, as they pointed out faces in the footage. Jules and Evie watched with soppy smiles on their faces.

  The film memories were then followed by a roll call of honour for teachers now deceased and finished with the speech delivered by their former headmaster at their last ever assembly.At the end of the show, the guests broke out in a loud and appreciative applause.

  Damian came up onto the stage and took the mic from the D.J.

  “I think we can all agree, that despite what some might say, we did go to a truly amazing school.” He waited whilst another outbreak of clapping and whooping died down. “And tonight, we’re here to remember those great days, catch up on what we’ve all been doing and have a great party. My lovely wife, who has worked like a Trojan and without whom this wouldn’t have been possible, informs me that the buffet is now open. So, eat, drink and be bloody merry!”

  Evie grabbed Jules’ arm and notices a resistance. She looks to see what has captured her friend’s attention,

  “Oh my God,” she said when the penny finally dropped. “is that Susan Philips?”

  The object of their interest was skinny, plain looking woman with mousy brown hair and a face that looked much older than her years.
<
br />   “Blimey, if Ed could see her now,” remarked Evie just as the waitress came along with wine.

  Jules waited until the she had finished topping up their empty glasses before hissing: “He never went out with her. She just fancied him.”

  “I should hope not the way he used to hang his liver out over you. He'd never get forgiven.”

  Evie glanced at the photographs pinned to the wall beside her - a group of girls aged around fifteen all done up for the school disco.

  “We thought we were so grown up,” Evie peered harder at the photos. “It's not until you get to our age that you realise how stupid we must have looked. Who are they anyway?”

  “Well, that's Jane Cooke, look, long blonde hair,” Jules pointed to a rather pretty, blue-eyed girl. “Do you remember she used to be able to sit on it?”

  Evie leant in for a closer look. “Wasn't she going out with whatisface, oh God, you know, Jason, Jason somebodyorother and they got caught by old Mr Granger having a bit of a fiddle behind the sports hall?”

  “Fiddle? What the hell's a 'fiddle'?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I let Carl Wilton put his hand up my blouse once.”

  “Slut.”

  “I know.”

  And they giggled for a bit before a comfortable quiet descended on them. Evie cast a tired eye over the guests and sighed

  “What's the matter?”

  “I don't know…this place,” replied Evie. “It's making me nostalgic. I wasn't expecting to feel nostalgic.”

  “I thought that was the point of these things.” Jules wasn’t feeling particularly nostalgic and was surprised to find that Evie was. She’d rather expected to be the other way around.

  “No, the point of these things is for the alphas to come and boast about their successes and the betas to be in awe of them, not to come and wish you were still wearing long socks and eating meatloaf on a Friday.”