‘It’s more of a get-together than an actual gathering and no, there’s no dress code,’ I assure her. ‘Other than actually being clothed, that is!’
Allegra nods, like this is fair comment.
‘So, I’ll see you on Saturday then?’ I break away from her as soon as we step outside, scanning the car park for Benji. He’s over on the far side, trying to entice Auberon down from the roof of the Headteacher’s car.
‘Bye then,’ I say. ‘Come on Benji!’
I need to get my kid and get out of here.
‘What shall I bring?’ Allegra asks, pocketing her phone. ‘For the gathering?’
God. I’m seriously regretting this already.
‘Not a gathering,’ I tell her. ‘And just bring yourself.’
Benji ambles across to me and I grab his hand, pulling him towards the street where I managed to squeeze the car into one of the few available spaces.
‘But I can’t arrive empty-handed!’ she wails, her voice floating across the car park. ‘It’s the height of bad manners.’
Lord, give me strength.
‘So bring a bottle,’ I yell back. ‘Something for us all to drink.’
Then I unlock the car and bundle Benji inside, before proceeding to spend the entire drive home giving him a detailed lecture on the importance of loyalty and family allegiance and keeping your bloody mouth shut if you happen to hear your mother say something that she may prefer wasn’t shared amongst the school population. And that I am more than capable of sabotaging my own life and his assistance in this matter is absolutely not required.
Chapter Twenty
‘Can you please put your skateboard away?’ I ask Benji, dashing past him and into the kitchen. ‘They’ll be here soon and I’d like the house to be reasonably tidy.’
‘You need to chill, Hannah,’ says Nick, not looking up from his Land Rover magazine. ‘They won’t be here for ages yet. Relax. You’ve got plenty of time.’
‘Yeah, Mum,’ echoes Scarlet, glancing up from her phone. ‘You need to relax. Also, how would you feel if I started dating someone with a full facial tattoo?’
She’s just trying to wind me up. I will not rise to it. I really won’t.
I look at the clock and then glare back at my husband. ‘They’re going to be here in ten minutes,’ I tell him. ‘That is not plenty of time.’
He jerks his head up, his face a picture of alarm.
‘Ten minutes? But we haven’t had anything to eat yet!’
‘Yeah, Mum.’ Benji wanders in, his skateboard tucked under one arm. ‘I’m starving. Also, my tooth just fell out and now my other tooth is wobbly.’
I shrug my shoulders and fling open the kitchen drawer, searching for candles. ‘Not my problem. I’m having a night in with some friends so you guys are going to have to fend for yourselves. Benji – Dad will help you deal with your tooth, okay?’
Nick stands up. ‘I can rustle something up for me and the kids,’ he says. ‘But aren’t we going to get in the way? And what about you? You haven’t eaten anything either.’
‘It’s fine,’ I assure him, shaking my head. ‘We’ll be in the living room so you three can eat in here and Cassie is bringing snacks so I’m not going to starve.’
Scarlet groans. ‘God. What an amazing Saturday night. Eating one of Dad’s rustled-up meals in the kitchen while a load of middle-aged women have a party in our house. It’s so unfair.’
‘It’s not a party,’ I say.
‘What’s wrong with my rustled-up meals?’ asks Nick at the same time.
‘And we’re not middle-aged,’ I add. ‘That was uncalled for. Age is just a state of mind and I think you’ll find that I have an extremely youthful outlook on life. I’m really only just beginning my journey.’
Scarlet gives me a condescending look. ‘The average life expectancy for a woman is eighty-two-point-five years. So you’re right, Mum. You’re forty-four, which means that technically you’ve passed middle-age already.’
Sometimes, just sometimes, I really can’t stand my children.
‘Don’t be so rude.’ I glare at her. ‘And by the way, if you’re considering dating someone with a full facial tattoo then you’d better get a well-paid job because there’s no way that they are going to be gainfully employed with a face covered in ink.’
I am so absolutely not middle-aged.
‘I was going to get some eggs and bacon and make one of my famous omelettes,’ continues Nick. ‘I thought you all liked my omelettes.’
‘I love your omelettes,’ says Benji, loyally.
‘You’re such a suck-up,’ mutters Scarlet. ‘And actually, I’m fairly sure that I’m allergic to eggs because they always make me feel sick whenever I think about the poor little scrambled baby chick embryo. I think I’m going to become a vegan.’
Why are teenagers so determined to be so bloody depressing?
‘At least being a suck-up is better than being an emotional vampire,’ I tell her. ‘Inhaling all the joy in life and feeding on it.’
Her mouth drops open in shock and I feel guilt rush through me.
‘You did not just call me an emotional vampire!’ she gasps. ‘Mum! That is totally harsh. Are you having a mid-life crisis or something?’
The guilt disappears.
‘Have a wonderful evening,’ I tell them all, gathering up my candles. ‘And don’t worry – you won’t even know that we’re here.’
I’ve just managed to straighten up the living room, light the candles and sort out some glasses when the doorbell rings.
‘I’ll get it!’ I call, dashing out into the hall although there was no need to bother because I can hear Taylor Swift’s latest album blaring through the closed kitchen door. I feel a momentary pang of sympathy for Nick before reminding myself that this evening is about me chilling out with some friends and that a few hours dealing with Scarlet and Benji on his own won’t kill him. Age him, perhaps – but it won’t kill him.
Cassie is standing on the doorstep, her arms laden with carrier bags.
‘I got the snacks,’ she says, proffering them towards me. ‘We just need a few plates and bowls and then we’re sorted.’
She goes into the living room and I race back into the kitchen.
‘Don’t mind me!’ I say, opening one of the cupboards. ‘Just sorting the snacks.’
‘UNO!’ yells Benji and when I look across the room, I see that the three of them are engrossed in a game of cards. I stand still for a second, enjoying the scene of domestic bliss and feeling my heart soften. They’re good kids, really, and Nick is great with them. I wish that Dylan was here but at the same time, I know he’s having fun at uni and that everything is as it should be.
I keep telling myself that anyway, in the hope that one of these days I’m going to start believing my own spin.
‘You cheated!’ screeches Scarlet, bringing me back to reality. ‘That game doesn’t count!’
‘Have fun,’ I tell them, stacking up some plates and walking back towards the door. ‘And don’t forget to do the washing up once you’ve finished eating.’
In the living room, Cassie has unloaded the bags and started opening packets. I stare at the food.
‘I thought you were bringing nibbles?’ I ask, watching as she stacks some fondant fancies onto a plate. ‘This looks like a kids’ birthday party, not a sophisticated night in with some friends.’
She laughs and opens a packet of the scampi-flavour crisps that I last remember eating in the late 1980s.
‘Believe me, Hannah. Everyone is going to love this stuff. All that olives and cured meat canapé crap is totally over. White carbs are where it’s at. You wait and see.’
I pop a pickled-onion flavor Monster Munch in my mouth and let it melt on my tongue. She may have a point.
‘I invited a couple of mums from Benji’s school but who did you invite?’ I ask but before she can answer, the bell rings again.
I leave her arranging the chocolate fingers into a tower an
d go back into the hall to open the door to the first guests.
Who are absolutely not who I’m expecting to see.
‘Welcome!’ I say, hoping that I am successfully managing to hide my surprise from the people who are gathered on my step. ‘Thanks for coming. Come in!’
I stand back and they all troop inside.
‘Just hang your coats on the hooks and then head into the living room!’ I call.
I have to be honest – I wouldn’t have necessarily chosen to invite these specific people to my get-together. I mean, I’ve enjoyed the few chats that I’ve had with Isobel, the young PE teacher at school, and Mrs Knight from Home Economics is absolutely lovely, even if I haven’t been able to look at her in the same way ever since we had that cringe-worthy conversation about Fifty Shades of Grey in the staffroom last term. But I’m not sure that we’ve got enough in common to spend an entire evening together. And what the hell was Cassie thinking, inviting Miss Pritchard along? She’s an old lady, not to mention the Headteacher’s PA. I won’t be able to say anything without fear that every single word will be repeated back to Miriam first thing on Monday morning.
‘It’s the door on the left, Mrs Knight!’ I call as I see her starting to head towards the kitchen. She turns and frowns at me.
‘For goodness’ sake, Hannah, call me Pru! We’re not at school now, dear.’
‘Hi, Hannah!’ calls a voice and I turn to see Logan’s mum walking up the path, with Allegra traipsing behind her. ‘I love what you’ve done to your hair!’
‘I was lucky to find Lori at the entrance to your street,’ Allegra huffs. ‘I’d never have found the place otherwise. I don’t come to the other side of the tracks very often.’
So that’s her name. How did I not know that? Our boys have been best friends for the last five years and I’ve only ever known her as Logan’s mum.
‘I’m so glad that you could make it,’ I say to both women, smiling at Lori. ‘And Allegra, I’m glad that you were prepared to brave the wilderness of this side of town!’
I live approximately twelve minutes’ walk from both her house and the primary school so how she can refer to my street as the other side of the tracks is beyond me.
I usher them both in and take their coats before leading them into the living room. I’ve already set up the small table in the corner with wine glasses and Cassie is relieving people of their bottles and lining them up on the side. I always find it interesting to see what different people have brought as offerings and so I wander over to see what delights might soon be filling my glass.
‘Who brought this?’ I ask, pointing at two bottles of Pinot Grigio, which have been placed next to the two that I’d already put out. ‘I’ve got a few more of those in the fridge.’
‘Lori,’ answers Cassie. ‘A classic, safe choice and it’s already chilled. I like her.’
I nod. ‘How about this?’
Cassie grins. ‘That would be Miss Pritchard. Apparently it’s been cluttering up her sideboard since the turn of the century because she’s been waiting for an opportunity to share it with others. And luckily for us, tonight’s the night!’
I look at the dusty bottle of sherry and have a sudden urge to cry.
‘That’s so sad,’ I whisper, gazing across at where Miss Pritchard is perched on the edge of the sofa, clutching her handbag with both hands as if she thinks she’s about to be mugged. ‘Do you really think she hasn’t been invited out in the last twenty years?’
‘I don’t know,’ shrugs Cassie. ‘But I do know that this sherry is definitely not going to have its cork popped tonight. Anyway, never mind that – look what Isobel brought. We should throw her out now.’
Young and trendy Isobel has brought a bottle of something called Nosecco, which on further examination proves to be non-alcoholic Prosecco.
‘I didn’t even know such a thing existed,’ I say, reading the label.
‘It shouldn’t,’ Cassie says, flatly. ‘It’s just another example of hipsters messing with something that’s perfectly fine as it is.’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, wanting to defend my younger guest. ‘It does seem rather responsible. This generation definitely appears to be less prone to making the mistakes that we made at their age.’
It also seems a bit boring but I keep that opinion to myself.
Cassie mutters something unintelligible under her breath and I pick up another bottle in the hopes of distracting her.
‘So who brought the whiskey?’ I ask. ‘That’s a bit of a strange thing to bring for a night in with the girls.’
Cassie points to where Mrs Knight is settling herself down next to Miss Pritchard. ‘Who do you think brought it? Pru is full of surprises!’
‘Where would you like these?’ Allegra approaches with her arms wrapped around a cardboard box.
I gawp at her as she starts to offload the contents of the box. Three bottles of gin are followed by three bottles of vermouth and then three bottles of Campari.
‘That’s a lot of alcohol,’ I say, when all the bottles are on the table. ‘You didn’t need to bring so much, Allegra.’
She puts the box down and looks at me. ‘But you said to bring something for everyone to drink. And I didn’t know how many people would be attending your gathering so I thought it best to over-cater.’ She looks worried. ‘Where is everyone else?’
‘This is everyone,’ I tell her, trying to ignore the surprised expression on her face.
Cassie nods. ‘Always best to over-cater in these situations, I completely agree.’
Allegra smiles gratefully at her and then turns back to me. ‘I just need you to show me where you keep your ice machine and your largest cocktail shaker.’
‘I don’t have a small cocktail shaker,’ I confess, ‘never mind a range of differing sizes. Nor do I own an ice machine.’
Allegra stares at me as if I’ve just admitted to not owning a plumbed-in toilet.
‘You poor thing,’ she murmurs, as Cassie silently cracks up behind her. ‘How do you cope?’
‘Oh, we get by,’ I say, as bravely as I can. ‘I just use a bucket to mix my cocktails and if I have an ice-related emergency then we’ve got one of those little plastic ice trays in the freezer. I can get enough for a couple of glasses of gin and tonic from that.’
‘You don’t even have a silicone ice tray?’ she whimpers and I swear, for one brief moment it looks like she’s about to make the sign of the cross on herself.
‘Anyone for wine?’ interrupts Cassie, finally putting me out of my misery. ‘Shall we ramp this party up a gear, Ally?’
‘It’s Allegra. And I was told that it’s not a party,’ states Allegra, recovering from my tale of woe. ‘I thought it was a gathering.’
‘Not a gathering,’ I say, holding my hand out for a glass. ‘And please help yourself to a fondant fancy.’
Her eyes roam to the other side of the room where a table is now groaning under a cornucopia of junk food but I am spared her opinion on the lack of low-calorie, paleo options by the doorbell ringing yet again.
‘Now, I want you to stay calm,’ Cassie says as she follows me out into the hall. ‘I know you’re a bit daunted about this whole Sex Goddess thing and so I’ve organised a guest to liven things up a bit and help you get your sexy vibe on.’
I freeze for a second and then spin back to face her.
‘You haven’t?’ I hiss, conscious that my children and husband are currently playing an innocent, family card game only metres away. ‘Tell me that you haven’t, Cassie.’
‘I haven’t what?’ she says, innocently.
‘Organised a stripper!’ I snap. ‘For god’s sake, Cass.’
But if she has, I wonder who I’d most like it to be? Maybe a provocative postman or a bewitching barista? Perhaps an obliging officer of the law? Or maybe, just maybe, a tantalising, teasing, tasty tree surgeon…
She laughs and shakes her head. ‘Not a stripper,’ she tells me. ‘Just open the door, will you?’
‘Hello?’ I say. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Hello, love!’ trills a voice. ‘Are you going to let me in? Only it’s bloody freezing out here.’
I crank the door open a little further and peer in confusion at Sandra, the receptionist from the dental surgery.
‘Come on in, Sandra,’ booms Cassie, yanking the door out of my hand and swinging it wide open. ‘Please excuse Hannah – she’s had a long week.’
Sandra walks in and plonks a large suitcase down at our feet.
‘I’ve just got to get some boxes from the car,’ she says. ‘Won’t be a minute.’
She hurries back outside and I look at Cassie in confusion.
‘What’s she doing here? And why has she brought a suitcase?’
Cassie grins. ‘Well, you know that Sandra is the receptionist at the dentist?’
I nod.
‘She’s also got another job. A side-hustle, if you like. Something to help bring in a bit of extra money and give her something to do in the evenings.’
I purse my lips and tip my head to one side. ‘I still don’t know why she’s here.’
Sandra comes back into the hall and slams the front door shut behind her. ‘I’ll just get set up and then we’re good to go.’ She nods at the wine glass in my hand. ‘Oh good, you’ve already started drinking – that should make the evening go nice and smoothly!’
Cassie picks up the suitcase and shows her into the living room.
‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ she asks as they walk through the door.
‘No thanks, love,’ replies Sandra. ‘It’s best if I keep a cool head.’ There’s a pause and then the rest of her sentence floats back to me. ‘You’re going to need at least one responsible adult on the premises!’
I stand very still until my best friend reappears in front of me.
Faking It: The most hilarious and laugh out loud page turner you’ll read this year! Page 20
