by Shari Low
‘Fuck it, I need a new job. Make it happen and I’ll mime,’ she retorted. There it was again. Lulu had worked with Dan for the last six years, ever since he and Colm had gone out on their own and set up their management and training consultancy. In the early days, Lulu did the books, typed up the invoices and generally took care of everything that needed to happen to let Dan and Colm go out there and earn. That was then. Now the business was a bit more established, with a steady income, she’d taken the first opportunity to reduce her workload. With no mortgage and no kids, and a firm belief that there was more to life than slogging in an office during her prime years (her words, not mine), she cut back to a couple of days a week doing the paperwork and spent the others in a function she called ‘networking and raising the company profile’. Others would call it ‘shopping and doing lunch’. The reality was that it left Lulu with far too much time on her hands – a dangerous situation for someone with the attention span of a fairground fish. When it came to Lulu, too much time led to boredom, which led to a need for excitement, which led to trouble, usually for either her bank balance or her marriage. Or both.
We headed through to the open-plan kitchen and dining area at the back of the house, which had been extended to add a lounge area too. It was the only room that was thoroughly modern, with its white walls, cream travertine floor and glass doors that spanned the whole of the back wall, letting the solar lights of the garden create little spheres of gold that looked like floating stars.
The others were already sitting round the dining table. Rosie was the first to welcome us. ‘Hello lovelies,’ she said, her beaming smile as wide as the large goblet of red wine she held aloft in greeting. I’d always thought Rosie was the personification of a Betty Boop cartoon, with her short black pixie cut, her huge blue eyes, and eyelashes that could sweep floors. Not much over five feet, she celebrated her curviness in fifties-style clothes that made her stand out for all the right reasons. Tonight she was in a white low-cut top, with red polka dots that matched the scarlet of her lips, with a coordinating scarf tied around her neck.
In my standard colour palate of funereal black, I suddenly felt resoundingly bland compared to my Technicolor friends. More stuff for my to-do list. Must wear colour. Must take longer than five minutes to apply make-up.
I did the rounds of hello’s – Rosie first, then her boyfriend, Jack, a life coach who sat somewhere between hipster trendy and those guys who wore man buns and carried yoga mats. They’d met in Rosie’s café and despite the fact that he could be a little studious and earnest, we were all hoping for Rosie’s sake that this one was a keeper. Six months in, the easy vibe that flicked between them suggested that he could be. However, we’d been here before so we weren’t buying hats just yet.
After hugging Dan, I slid into the empty seat next to him. Over at the marble island, Colm flipped open a bottle of beer. Ah, there it was, as predicted – the raised eyebrow of enquiry.
‘Honey, what would you like to drink?’ Colm asked.
‘Vodka, straight.’ I answered, and watched as a momentary flicker of surprise was replaced by a grin.
‘Or maybe I’ll just stick with water,’ I said, smiling. In truth, I didn’t really mind. Beth had ballet in the morning and a crowd of five-year-olds wasn’t something I wanted to negotiate with a hangover.
Next to me, Dan immediately lifted a large jug from the centre of the table and poured iced water into the wine glass in front of me.
‘You didn’t bring Beth?’ Rosie asked, with a hint of disappointment.
There were many things I adored about my friends, and one of them was that they treated Beth as a communal child, not a hindrance or an irritant to spoil their sophisticated chat. (Not that we ever actually had any sophisticated chat, but that was beside the point.) So many of these dinners ended with Rosie on the floor with Beth, doing a jigsaw or channelling Little Mix on the karaoke, the two of them laughing helplessly. Jack, whose sole experience with children extended to informing Kensington mothers that their family life was encroaching on their opportunities for meditation and growth, didn’t ever give a hint that he minded his evening being interrupted by an impromptu game of rounders in the garden. Even Lulu and Dan, who had no plans to add to their family, loved having Beth around, mostly, I suspect, because they got all the fun but didn’t have to deal with the responsibilities.
‘Cinema and sleepover with one of her classmates,’ I answered, before the bang of the oven door diverted our attention to Lulu. ‘Something smells great,’ I told her.
‘Lasagne, garlic bread, salad,’ she replied. ‘I’m not winning any prizes for originality over here.’
I loved the fact that it clearly didn’t bother her in the least. Tonight, like all our gatherings, was about chat and catching up. The food was way down the priority list, and given that I’d spent a long week cooking for other people, I was just happy that it wasn’t me over there using a cheese grater to slice cucumber into a bowl of leaves.
Colm joined us at the table and immediately turned to Dan. ‘How’d you get on with the Bracal Tech pitch prep today?’
‘Hey, hey, hey! No work talk at the table please!’ I interjected. It was the one overriding rule, set down about a year after the guys first went into business together. ‘Lulu has salad tongs and she’s not afraid to use them,’ I added, gesturing to Lu, who stood one hand on hip, raised tongs in the other.
Whilst the others were laughing, it took me a moment to realize that, beside me, Dan was uncharacteristically straight faced.
His demeanour didn’t change too much throughout dinner. On the surface, the conversations were as convivial as ever but I sensed an undertone. I decided not to question it. Nothing good could come of probing.
Instead, I had a couple of chunks of garlic bread and let the company of my closest friends shake off the lethargy that had been seeping into my bones earlier.
Colm looked like it was having the same effect on him. The dark shadows under his sea-green eyes were still there, but his crooked grin and the remains of a garden tan saved the day. Right now he was telling some story about a buff, Lycra-clad guy in the gym who’d hit on him the week before, and the others found it hugely amusing that he’d been so concerned about hurting the guy’s feelings that he’d let him down gently then taken him for a coffee. That was Colm. The dark brown hair might now be flecked with grey, and there may be a few grooves on his face that weren’t there fourteen years ago, but he was still the loveliest, funniest guy I’d ever known.
Next to me, it was obvious that Dan still wasn’t feeling the same happy effects of the gathering. In my peripheral vision, I could see his jaw was clenched now, his knuckles pale as they squeezed his glass. A quick glance from Rosie told me she’d noticed too. It wasn’t like him. Sure, he could be impatient and was sometimes easily riled, but in this environment, surrounded by friends, he would usually be chilled out and regaling us with stories of his week.
Rosie had obviously decided to steer the conversation to a topic that would cheer him up. ‘So, guys,” she said breezily, directing the conversation at Lulu and Dan, “I was thinking, we should do something for your wedding anniversary next month.’
In a perfectly executed act of dark comic timing, Lulu, who was clearing the table, picked that moment to drop the salad bowl, laying a carpet of withered, leftover rocket across the floor tiles.
‘Fuck,’ she blurted.
I jumped up to help her clear it up, but ended up doing it myself as she’d already moved back to the centre island and was decanting several inches of red wine into her glass, her sociable joviality suddenly replaced by a silence and barely supressed irritation.
‘Let’s wait and see if we make it that long, shall we?’ Dan replied tersely, removing any semblance of forced joviality from the group.
Oh God. I suddenly wished Beth was here to divert us all with an innocent game. I spy with my little eye, something beginning with an excruciating silence and a murderous glare-off betwee
n Lu and Dan.
Eventually, Lulu was the first to blink.
‘You really want to do this now?’ she asked, her exasperation tempered with something that sounded like defiance. It was classic Lulu. When under attack, go on the offensive. When irritated, scared or just bloody fed up, steam right through those feelings with a forceful blend of rebellion and boldness, then hope for the best.
‘Might as well,’ Dan shrugged, meeting her gaze. ‘Do you want to go phone your boyfriend first and ask his permission?’
Suddenly my weariness had returned and I could see it settling on Colm and Rosie too. Jack was too new to the group to understand the dynamics and history of this situation.
Actually, I was a founding member and struggled to understand it too. Throughout their entire relationship Lulu and Dan had adhered to their own set of rules and they were written in a language that no one else understood. However, even when they were in one of their frequent rocky patches, they generally kept things convivial when we were together as a group, so whatever was going on now was obviously serious. One thing I absolutely did know for sure, was that the worst thing we could do was intervene. I really wished I wasn’t driving. A cocktail would have been much appreciated right about now.
Lulu took a gulp of wine then set it down on the worktop with the slow, definite movement of someone who was trying desperately to stay in control.
She barely skipped a beat before she spoke. ‘I’m not sure of the number. Perhaps your girlfriend might look it up for me?’
‘If it salves your conscience to think that, you go ahead,’ Dan retorted, his voice low with anger. ‘But we both know this one is on you. Why don’t you tell our friends about the afternoons at the Richmond Hotel?’
‘You bastard,’ Lulu hissed. ‘You had me followed?’
‘Didn’t need to. You used your credit card.’
‘For personal training sessions! And I can’t believe you checked my card. How low can you go?’ Lulu retorted.
‘Not as low as you it would seem. I checked. You’re not a client there. So go on, come up with as many excuses and explanations as you want… or you could save us all the trouble and be honest. Admit it. You did it again. Who is it this time? The guy who works in the gym? The local estate agent? Or are you going for a variety and spreading it around?’
My previous resolve to stay out of it crumbled in the face of Dan’s fury and the sure knowledge that I had to try to cut this off before it got out of control.
‘Dan, don’t,’ I cautioned gently. I wasn’t taking sides, but I couldn’t let this escalate because I instinctively knew it wasn’t heading to any kind of happy place. I had no clue as to Dan’s culpability in whatever battle they were having, but I recognized Lulu’s expression. It was the same combination of guilt and determination not to cry that she’d shown in every sticky moment in her life, especially when the problem was of her own doing.
Rosie was watching it all, mouth agape. Colm was rubbing his temples with his fingers. And Jack was studying the empty plate in front of him with intent fascination.
‘Look, we should go,’ Colm said. ‘It’s getting late and my head is banging.’ He didn’t add, ‘And I can’t do this again,’ but I knew that was what he was thinking. How many times had we been through this? Three? Four?
Lulu and Dan had the most tempestuous relationship I’d ever known. Her relentless need to flirt and hedonistic tendencies had been a constant source of discord in the early days, but it was her need for thrills that would surely break them. There had been two affairs that I knew of on her side, one on Dan’s. They were a couple who needed constant drama, constant excitement to survive. I couldn’t comprehend it when they were dating and I couldn’t comprehend it now, but I knew the best way to deal with it was to bail out until they’d sorted it out themselves. Taking sides would be a fatal friendship mistake, because when they made up – which they had done on every previous occasion – you didn’t want to be the one who’d bad-mouthed the other.
Rosie was already on her feet. She was no pushover, but she hated confrontation, avoided disharmony at all costs and, like me, knew that this was all going to get messy and the best thing to do when Lulu was escalating to battle stations was to evacuate the area. ‘I think so too. Jack?’ She didn’t need to ask twice. Jack was on his feet and already heading for the door, waving as he went. ‘Er, thanks for dinner. It was lovely.’
I winced in pity for him. Clearly he was in the 99.9 per cent of the population who would find this deeply uncomfortable.
Dan sat staring morosely at the table, while Lulu followed us out, handing over our coats from the vintage stand at the door.
I slipped mine on. ‘You okay? Why don’t you come stay at our house tonight?’ Guilty or innocent, at fault or not, I wanted to give her a way out of tonight’s shitstorm.
She shook her head. ‘Not tonight, but I might take you up on it tomorrow night. I’m leaving him, Shauna. I can’t do this any more.’
Droplets of tears gathered on her lower lids and she blinked them away. To be honest, I didn’t take her vow particularly seriously. The number of times she’d threatened to leave him over the last fifteen years stretched to double figures.
I gave her a hug. ‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow. If you change your mind about staying, come over any time during the night. Just use your key and crash in the spare room.’
Her squeeze was cutting off oxygen to my windpipe.
‘Thanks babe.’
Beside me, Colm still hadn’t said anything, and he remained silent as he headed out the door and back to the car. Only when I’d switched on the engine did he finally speak. I wished he hadn’t.
‘I don’t know how you can stand by her when she does this. Come on, Shauna, she’s a nightmare.’
‘Hey, Dan did it too.’
‘Only after he’d put up with her humiliating him for years. Not the same.’
‘How isn’t it? You can’t judge her, Colm. You don’t know the dynamics of their marriage and what makes it work. Or not,’ I finished ruefully.
‘Maybe not, but I know enough to be bloody sick of the way she treats him. Dan works damn hard to give her a great life. Why can’t that be enough for her?’
I sighed and leaned back against the headrest as I steered on to George Street, heading towards Richmond Bridge. Brilliant. My friend was allegedly having an affair, yet it was Colm and I who were now fighting.
It didn’t help that Lu was the one person who could press his easy-going, live and let live buttons. In the years since that first night at the bar in Richmond Bridge, they’d developed a relationship that had almost a sibling dynamic. They loved each other, but Colm didn’t shy away from calling her out or standing his ground with her. When she was wrong, he was direct and honest with her, even when she didn’t want to hear it. When she was right, he’d be the first person to step in to help or back her up. She drove him crazy, yet two minutes later they’d be buckled in mutual hilarity at some inside joke.
But hilarity was in short supply tonight.
In my peripheral vision I could see that he had his eyes squeezed shut, and he was rubbing the bridge of his nose.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked, more to break the atmosphere of conflict than anything else. I wasn’t big on confrontation avoidance, but tonight I was so damn tired I was making an exception.
‘Thumping head,’ he said, surprising me. I’d thought it was just an excuse to leave when he’d mentioned it earlier.
‘I’ve got some paracetamol in my bag,’ I told him, gesturing to the handbag in his footwell.
I thought he was leaning down towards it, but then realized that his hand had veered over towards the radio and was twisting the volume dial. It wasn’t on, so his actions had no effect.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, puzzled.
‘Trying to switch this damn thing off.’
‘Colm, it’s not on.’
‘So what’s the noise?’
Was t
his a joke that I wasn’t getting?
‘What noise?’
He sat back in the seat. ‘You can’t hear that?’
‘What?’
‘It’s like… I don’t know. Radio interference. Like a crackling sound.’
I’d have blamed the alcohol, but I knew he’d only had a couple of beers. And not only was the radio off, but there was no other noise to be heard. Had to be a joke.
‘Okay, skip to the punchline.’ I told him lightly, grateful that he wanted to add a bit of levity and salvage the mood of the night.
‘Shauna, I swear I’m not kidding around. You honestly can’t hear anything?’
‘No.’ I pulled up at a set of traffic lights on red, and turned to him to see a mask of confusion and uncertainty. This no longer felt like much of a joke.
‘This is so weird,’ he said quietly.
‘Has it happened before?’ I asked.
‘Couple of times. Think it used to happen to my mum, though. Migraines.’
‘Yeah, migraines can have all kinds of weird symptoms,’ I said. ‘Couple of pain killers and a good night’s sleep and you’ll be fine.’
The lights turned to green and I pulled away, trying to ignore the creeping unease that was infiltrating my nerve endings.
I should have paid attention.
4
2001
When Colm Met Shauna
Crash. Bang. Holy crap.
I’m not one for romantic words or any of that kind of nonsense, but I’m fairly sure that was a fair account of the stuff that was going on in my head the first time I saw her.
Dan had dragged me out for a pint, to – as he said – stop me being the kind of prick who got pissed on a Friday night and ended up shagging the girl I’d just broken up with. Or the wife I’d been married to for six years.
I appreciated his point, but I had no worries on that score. Jess and I had finalized our divorce a month before and I had no intention of going back there. None at all.
