by Dawn Goodwin
As I stood up, movement over the fence caught my eye. Felicity. My heart sank, just like it always did when I saw her these days. I had spent too many wasted minutes on what had always been a toxic relationship. Why had I stayed so loyal for so long? I had always had more in common with her husband, Ian, than with her. He was a kind-hearted, generous man who could never do right in his wife’s eyes. It was as though he had never fulfilled what she perceived to be his potential and she made him pay for that on a daily basis with her constant air of discontent and resignation.
Ian and Felicity’s daughter, Tabitha, was nothing like my sweet, gentle Grace, but Felicity was constantly comparing one to the other. Whether one child was doing better at school, did more sport, had more friends and was generally a higher achiever underlined many of Felicity’s conversations. The two girls weren’t natural playmates, but tolerated each other if we forced them into the same space.
The dynamics shifted following a dinner party we hosted last summer. After that, the distance between us began to grow until it reached unassailable proportions and I began to realise that our friendship was premised on habit rather than real affection. When the bottom fell out of my world, Felicity became less of a priority and more of an annoyance that buzzed around on the periphery of my life. I had reason enough to hate her, but I couldn’t muster the energy. But I also knew I would have to address it eventually. Ignoring her did not mean it would all go away, but I was managing to for now, even though it was a challenge to avoid someone who lives right next door, especially someone so tall and pointy.
With her sharp nose and prominent chin, Felicity would never win any beauty pageants, but she did have a regal quality that came across as prim haughtiness, only adding to the permanent air of disapproval that clung to her. She was still taking too much interest in me for my liking, her eyes following me on the school run and peering from behind her curtains. On the days when we did physically pass each other in the street, we would greet each other, me half-heartedly, her with thinly veiled resentment. Part of me couldn’t blame her. We’ve been friends a long time and I was now freezing her out, hoping she’d move on. Ironically, it’s called ‘ghosting’ apparently. It was exhausting having to avoid her outside and Tom inside, and there were days when I wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep for a hundred years.
I kept my eyes on her through the window as I ran the cleaning cloth under the hot tap. She was straining her neck to see as far over the fence as she could. I could see Scarlet inspecting the leaves of a bush at the far end of the lawn, out of sight of Felicity.
As I walked back into the garden, Scarlet turned and walked towards me and immediately noticed the giraffe’s neck as it retreated away from the fence. I could see Scarlet’s hackles rising as she said coolly, ‘Well, we have company. Who’s that then? She looks familiar.’
Feeling confrontational, I muttered, ‘That’s Felicity – my nosey pain in the arse neighbour and an old friend.’
‘Old in age or in length of service?’
‘I’ve known her since Tom and I were at university. We’ve got a long and complicated history.’ Then I heard myself call out, ‘Hello Felicity. Nice day, isn’t it? Taking a break, are you?’
The face appeared again and Felicity’s eyes narrowed, before she replied, ‘Well, the cleaner’s in, so I thought I would come out here out of her way. The sun is shining after all. And I heard voices. It’s been ages since anyone’s been in your garden.’ There it was, the first stinging dart, as her eyes took in the dead flowers and rotting leaves. Her pointy nose swung back at me like a dagger, the lines in her neck sharp and straining.
‘We’re just having a drink actually while we plan what we’re going to do with the garden.’ I cringed inwardly as I indirectly made excuses for myself when I knew I shouldn’t care what she thought. Old habits die hard. ‘I would invite you over, but there’s only the one bottle. Nice to see you though,’ I said in a treacled voice, artificial sweetness dripping from every syllable.
‘Oh? Who are you with?’
‘No one you know,’ I replied crisply.
She paused, then said, ‘Do be careful, Veronica, you wouldn’t want to overdo it in the middle of the day. What would Tom say?’
Inwardly berating myself for letting her get one last jibe in, I turned to Scarlet and, with a wink, said, ‘I fancy a jump on the trampoline.’
Scarlet looked at me quizzically, then a grin spread over her face as she seized the opportunity to put on a show. Felicity was scowling even more when she realised I wasn’t going to bite back.
‘Race you there,’ Scarlet said and took off like a rocket.
I dropped my empty glass in the long grass with a dull thud and raced after her, catching her on the arm as she reached the trampoline. After much argy-bargy and the odd elbow prod, we managed to muscle into the safety net around the trampoline at the same time. Then the urge to bounce took over.
Like two little kids, we jumped faster and higher, laughing louder with each elevation. My memory wanted to draw parallels with Grace and her friends as I used to watch them, itching to shout out warnings to be careful, but holding my tongue in the face of such liberating delight. I had an overwhelming feeling of being free and weightless as I jumped with an astounding newfound energy. We timed ourselves perfectly so that as one landed, the other launched into the air, but after a few minutes of intense bouncing, I timed my take-off wrong and we landed in a heap next to each other, laughing hysterically. The sound was unfamiliar in my ears.
I clutched my side as tears rolled down my face and my cheeks hurt. ‘Oh dear, I think a little bit of wee came out on that last jump,’ I said, before giving into peals of laughter again.
Wiping my eyes, I noticed Felicity staring wide-eyed at us. She saw me looking back and shook her head pointedly, before stalking away into her house.
‘Well, that shut her up,’ Scarlet said, watching my expression carefully as the giggles receded.
I knew our impromptu show would come back to haunt me and, just like that, the carefree feeling vanished, replaced by a chill in the pit of my stomach, like a dark cloud had passed over the sun.
‘Oh never mind Mrs Pinchnez!’ Scarlet said, pushing me over on the canvas, then lying down next to me. ‘All she’s going to do is spread it around the playground that she saw you laughing, drinking and jumping on a trampoline in the middle of the day. Where’s the harm in that? It just shows she’s an uptight bitch. Anyone else will be wishing they were here too,’ Scarlet said, noticing my sudden silence.
‘You’re right, I know,’ I replied. ‘But she has a knack for killing my buzz.’
‘Then fetch me the bottle and let’s get you buzzing again. What’s the real story between you two anyway?’
‘That’s a tale for another day,’ I replied. ‘Where’s my glass?’
Felicity
Felicity fumed in the comfort of her immaculate kitchen. That woman knew how to wind her up.
She stomped around, adjusting a vase slightly to the left, running her finger across the windowsill to make sure the cleaner was doing a proper job, all the while seething. She could just see her from the window, sitting with her back to her, a full glass in her hand, laughing. Felicity frowned. Come to think of it, it had been ages since she had heard Veronica laugh. She almost seemed to be back to normal.
Felicity massaged her temples with her fingers as the beginning of a headache pulsed behind her eyes. Her eyes fell on the thin white scar on her finger. How long ago did that happen? Last summer maybe, just before all that trouble with Ian and his job, before everything changed.
*
‘All I’m saying is rein it in a bit. Does she really need to do four different kinds of dance classes? Is there much of a difference between them?’
‘Ian, it’s what she loves. She’s no good at sport as such and she doesn’t enjoy it, so where’s the harm in letting her do the things she really enjoys?’
‘Then why are we paying fo
r swimming, netball and these other activities too if she doesn’t like them?’
‘Because her friends play and it’s important for her to take part in a team sport. Seriously, we pay for your golf membership, but I don’t see you turning into fucking Tiger Woods!’
Ian rolled his eyes and headed out the front door. ‘If the accountant is worried, then we need to make a change, Felly.’
‘Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.’ She tugged on her dress, noting to herself that Ian hadn’t commented on her outfit at all. So much for making an effort.
‘Can’t you just consider finding something part-time? Tabitha is in school all day, so even a morning job would help, just until the pressure is off. I’m trying here, but you have to help me. You have to start cutting back.’ His voice was weedy and grated on her nerves.
They had reached Veronica and Tom’s door and she could see through the lounge window that the others had already arrived for the dinner party. Ian’s timing was appalling as usual, choosing just as they were about to leave the house to raise the subject of her recent extravagant spending. Knowing him, it was probably calculated that way so that she didn’t have time to argue back.
‘Do you know what your problem is, Ian? You’re still as tight now as you were when we were at uni.’ She marched up to the front door, leaving him to scowl behind her. She thought she heard him say, ‘If only you were,’ under his breath, but couldn’t challenge him further because Veronica was opening the door and welcoming them in. Tom stood behind her, ready to take their coats and immediately commented, ‘Wow, you look great, Felicity.’ Her cheeks warmed and she felt some of her annoyance dissipate.
Veronica looked annoyingly perfect as usual, with her auburn hair piled up in a knot, loose strands tickling her face, making it look like it was casually swept into place. A similar style would take Felicity ages and she would still look like she’d been dragged through something unspeakable. Veronica’s enviable figure was draped in a simple yet stylish pale grey shift dress with beautiful grey suede Mary Jane heels adorned with deep red bows and understated jewellery. Everything screamed elegance.
Once inside, Felicity made the rounds to greet the other guests – Zara and Will, Virginia and Miles, and Penny and Hugh – who were politely sipping champagne cocktails in the lounge and nibbling on olives and spiced almonds.
Felicity had always resented the effortlessness of Veronica’s dinner parties. She never looked flustered or under pressure; never a bead of sweat on her unlined brow. She just rolled out course after course of delicious, home-cooked food and everyone felt completely at home. In comparison, Felicity secretly ordered in the food for her dinner parties because she found the whole idea of preparing everything far too stressful. Hosting ranked up there with a trip to the gynaecologist in terms of stress levels in her opinion, and was about as much fun.
Veronica’s house looked as immaculate as ever, with its clean, minimalist lines and white walls. One would never think she had a young daughter as everything was so tidy and handprint-free. How the hell did she manage it? Tea lights flickered subtly on every surface while safe dinner party music – Adele, Ed Sheeran and the like – played in the background. Felicity felt like she’d crashed the wrong party.
Their friendship had changed substantially since their university days, not necessarily for the better in her opinion. It had grown into one of play dates with the girls, running in the park once a week, coffee before the afternoon school run – none of it thrilling. Felicity could probably live with that, but not with the mundanity of the people Veronica chose to surround herself with. Looking around at the other guests now, they all seemed like clones of each other, looking and thinking and speaking the same. Felicity felt marginalised among them, as though she wasn’t quite sophisticated enough to be part of the true inner circle.
What surprised her the most though was how readily Veronica had allowed herself to morph into them too. She was the epitome of the perfect wife, mother and housewife, and Felicity wanted to scream at the tediousness of it all. It all seemed to come so easily to Veronica, whereas Felicity had to work incredibly hard and always fell slightly short of the mark, the décor always one shade of grey wrong, the food ten minutes too long in the oven, the dress one season out of style. Just once she would like to see a bead of stress sweat on Veronica’s brow. It was the same when they were at uni. Exams, socialising, chatting to guys all came so easily to Veronica while Felicity ruminated and overanalysed every word.
Veronica seemed to have it all: a perfect husband with his chocolate-box good looks, secure career and charming ability to make you think he was hanging on your every word; a beautiful house that never seemed to suffer from blocked drains or cracks in the plaster; complete self-control in the face of food, drink, everything. She never seemed flustered, didn’t raise her voice to her daughter in public and oozed contentment. If there was a crack in her veneer, Veronica was very good at hiding it.
Resentment began to creep over Felicity as she listened to Veronica’s narrative of domestic bliss. She found herself sneering at her behind her back, desperate to expose a fault line in the Pullman façade.
The others thought Veronica to be an open book, but she only let people see what she wanted them to see. You never really felt like you knew her because she was so diplomatic and careful. You never saw her with her guard down and that just wasn’t natural. She didn’t make you feel like she was judging or looking down on anyone, which was why so many liked her. Sure, they all made mistakes, acted inappropriately on occasion and openly exposed their faults at times, but Veronica would merely be there offering a shoulder to cry on or some sensible words of support. She had a quiet confidence that rubbed off on those nearest to her, so that you felt like she was always on your side. It was very annoying.
Even more grating was that if you asked Veronica how she did it all, she merely laughed and admitted that it took a lot of hard work and juggling, but that she happily accepted her lot in life, the hardship that it was. She knew her station was to be a mother and supportive wife, and she was fully prepared to fulfil that role to the best of her ability rather than trying to have it all like other women. She had put her career on hold so that she could immerse herself in motherhood – and had done so seemingly without resentment or a sense of injustice. Of course, it wasn’t much of a career as such, just a bit of journalism, all those plans of hers at uni forgotten once she and Tom got married. She didn’t tell people that though.
It was nauseating how self-deprecating Veronica was, but others found it endearing. Their friends would always be seeking out her opinion and advice, and Felicity often felt pushed aside.
In stark contrast, she felt like her life was descending into a constant battle of wills. Tabitha was turning into a demanding, overachieving drama queen. She was at loggerheads with Ian most of time, predominantly over money as his consultancy business struggled to maintain clients and his stress levels rose beyond what was healthy. She resented him every day for making her give up her career to be a housewife when Tabitha was born and now he wanted to move the goalposts again. He was supposed to be the breadwinner, but here he was suggesting she go back to work to bail him out.
The thought of returning to work after all this time left Felicity cold, particularly the idea of giving up her privileged freedom to do whatever she liked during school hours. It was ludicrous and would be considered a failure on her part. Besides, what would the others say on the school run? It would ruin her social standing.
Felicity accepted a champagne cocktail from the gracious host and hoped it would settle her down. When she was in this kind of mood, she knew she would end up sniping her way through dinner and not doing herself any favours with the In Crowd.
She also felt overdressed in the clinging black and red dress she had picked with teetering black heels that were pinching her toes. The dress had been a conscious choice to show off some of her recent weight loss (and to rub it in Virginia’s nose as she
was still sporting a few too many pounds around her middle), but looking around at the muted colours and classy attire, she realised she looked like she was trying too hard. She tugged at the waistband with her free hand, but Veronica had noticed across the room.
‘You look amazing in that dress, Felicity. Wow, I need to get back to the gym – it’s clearly paying off for you!’ she announced.
The others murmured in agreement, but rather than feeling proud and complimented, the words sounded contrived and rehearsed to Felicity.
Patronising cow.
It took a matter of minutes for her to drain her first glass.
After the cocktails and general small talk, they all moved onto the patio outside where twinkling fairy lights lit up the landscaped garden and the outdoor table was set with jam jars of bright pink gerbera daisies and green chrysanthemums, adding colour to the immaculate white tablecloth. Her hackles still raised, Felicity had the inexplicable urge to knock her glass over and watch the stain spread.
The usual seating rules applied of mixing up partners, which suited her to the ground as, still rankled by their argument, she couldn’t face sitting next to Ian tonight. There was an awkward moment as everyone jostled for position around the table (with more than a few of the ladies trying to get on either side of Tom). Felicity managed to elbow her way past Zara and land the prime spot between Tom and Miles. She then accelerated onto cocktail number three and started to relax. Since she hadn’t eaten all day in order to have the flattest silhouette possible, her tummy now gurgled with cocktail bubbles.
Course after course of delicious food followed: a spicy Asian prawn and avocado salad; slow-cooked lamb with dauphinoise potatoes; rich chocolate tart with thick vanilla cream, all punctuated with magically never-ending glasses of wine. The conversation around the table flowed as freely as the alcohol, although the other wives politely held their hands over their glasses while Felicity accepted the refills with gusto. She was acutely aware that most of the attention was directed at Veronica as she soaked up compliments on her décor, the food, her daughter’s recent award at school for creative writing… the list was endless. The air was full of muted laughter, polite exclamations and politically correct observations. Felicity supressed a yawn.
