The Art of Friendship

by Lisa Ireland

  His eyes widened in surprise and then his face broke into a grin. ‘Of course I’ll come. I wouldn’t miss it.’

  ‘Hang on, it’s not that simple. It’s a joint birthday party for me and Libby. Our birthdays are only a few weeks apart and we thought seeing as we both turn forty this year it might be nice to share a party.’

  His smile faded. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘I realise that might be awkward for you. And it’s not just Libby. I expect there’ll be quite a few of your students’ parents there, so I’ll totally understand if you’d rather not come.’

  ‘Not at all. I’m often invited to social events where I run into parents – charity things usually. It’s never been a problem before.’

  ‘What about having to face up to Libby and Cam? Is that not going to be awkward for you? I mean, you did kind of expel their son.’

  ‘No I didn’t. That’s not what happened at all. They chose to remove him. And it ended quite amicably, I thought. Cameron Reynolds actually sent me a very pleasant letter with the exit paperwork. He seems like a decent sort of a bloke. But if you think it’ll be a problem . . .’

  Kit didn’t respond immediately. Having John at the party would be the best part about it, but was she ready to deal with the consequences of outing him to her friends? Or more specifically, was she ready to deal with Libby’s reaction to him?

  Maybe once she saw them together, Libby would be happy for her. After all, she’d been nagging her about ‘moving on’ ever since her last relationship ended, and that was over five years ago now.

  When Marcus left after six years of cohabitation, telling her he didn’t want to feel confined by a relationship, she’d tried to be philosophical. They’d been good together, happy, she thought. Sometimes things ended and that was okay. She didn’t harbour any ill feeling towards him. But six months later she discovered he was marrying his twenty-five-year-old pregnant girlfriend, and she’d had a breakdown – not that she would admit it at the time. But suddenly she found herself unable to get out of bed for days on end. Fortunately she had months of unused sick leave to draw on. But even so, she’d ended up resigning. Back then she was doing some counselling work and for the first time in her career she didn’t feel like she had anything of value to offer her clients. Her own life was such a mess; who was she to offer anyone advice? She’d lost six kilos without trying. Most of the time she simply couldn’t be bothered to eat.

  Jude and Libby had got her through. Jude had brought meals and insisted she eat them. At one point Kit thought her mum might actually resort to spoon-feeding her. And Libby had arrived on her doorstep for a two-night visit, leaving Harry back in Sydney in Cameron’s care. It was the first time she’d ever done such a thing, and Kit knew what a sacrifice it was for her. Libby cleaned the flat, stocked the fridge and, after disappearing for a couple of hours on the morning after her arrival, presented Kit with a soft bundle of fur that turned out to be Hugo.

  ‘He’s on overnight loan from a shelter,’ Libby said. ‘You don’t have to keep him. But if the two of you get along I thought he might be good company.’

  At the time Kit had just rolled her eyes. Libby was so transparent it wasn’t funny. ‘So what’s the big idea behind this? Give the depressed girl something to take care of and she’ll be forced to make an effort? Maybe even start taking care of herself?’

  Libby answered with a question. ‘Are you depressed?’

  Kit lifted the kitten onto her lap and began to stroke him. ‘I honestly don’t know. I’m sad, I know that much.’

  That night they drank copious amounts of tea and, as Kit began to fall in love with Hugo, Libby had convinced her to seek counselling. Things picked up rapidly from there, and she’d put her life back together, focusing her energy on her career and her own happiness. She’d never allowed herself to become too involved with a man again. She’d had plenty of lovers, of course, but always on her terms. Most of them were totally okay with the no commitment thing, and those that weren’t she’d sent packing. That had worked out just fine.

  Until now.

  As much as she didn’t want to risk her heart being broken, she found herself less and less inclined to send John on his way. It was foolish because he really wasn’t her type at all. He’d never heard of half the bands she liked, he listened to ABC talkback radio (like an old person for fuck’s sake!) whereas she still listened to Triple J, and he insisted on getting a print copy of the newspaper delivered (although it could be worse – at least it was The Age). Even his name was conservative. John. Not Jack. Not Johnno. Just plain old-fashioned John.

  Usually her liaisons consisted of lots of sex, drinking, partying and more sex. Even her relationship with Marcus was peppered with boozed-filled parties and gigs, punctuated by lazy days in bed recovering. The men she dated did not want to watch Gogglebox or MasterChef, nor did they want to discuss said programs with her. In fact, come to think of it, not many of them wanted to discuss much with her at all. Except Marcus, who spent a long time discussing his take on the world. At the time she’d thought he was deeply sensitive. Turned out he was deeply self-involved.

  There was something comforting about being with John. He was easy to be around. He considered her feelings and didn’t take anything about their relationship for granted. He was polite and thoughtful, albeit in an old-fashioned kind of way. John was exactly the type of guy Contrary Mary would approve of, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. And yet, he wasn’t a pushover. He didn’t agree with everything she said, nor did he go along with everything she wanted like a grateful lap dog. But the thing was, even when he disagreed with her he was always considerate of her feelings. That was it, she realised. He treated her with respect. And that was something. Something that she wanted to hang on to, at least for now. If John was going to be part of her life, Libby was going to have to find a way to deal with that. Maybe the party would be a good way to break the ice. Seeing each other in a social setting might be just what they needed to put their awkward past behind them.

  Kit suddenly realised John was staring at her, obviously waiting for an answer.

  ‘Sorry, I was just thinking.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, if you don’t mind mixing your professional and social lives, I’d love it if you’d be my date for the evening. Although I did neglect to tell you one small detail.’

  ‘Oh yeah? What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a costume party. Apparently we’re supposed to come dressed in seventies garb.’

  ‘Groovy.’

  She laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘You seriously didn’t just say that.’

  He threw his arm over her and pulled her close. ‘Hey, baby, fancy a shag?’

  Chapter 23

  The Uber driver let out a low whistle as he pulled into Libby’s street. ‘Man, looks like this is one fancy party you guys are going to. Check out all those cars.’

  The beat-up old hatchbacks belonging to Kit’s friends were outnumbered two to one by late model luxury cars. But that was hardly surprising. Most of her friends would be intending to drink so would have cabbed it or grabbed an Uber. Apparently Libby’s friends were a more sober breed.

  ‘Pull up in the driveway, if you don’t mind. We’ll have to make a dash for the front door. It’s really coming down out there now. I don’t want to start the night a sopping mess.’

  ‘Let’s hope you don’t end it that way either.’ The driver laughed at his own joke as he swung into Libby’s drive.

  ‘You stay there,’ John said, as he grabbed the umbrella at his feet. ‘I’ll put this up and try to shelter you a bit as you get out. We can’t have the guest of honour spoiling her look.’

  Kit smiled gratefully at him. John had such lovely manners; he managed to be chivalrous without veering into condescension, something none of her previous partners had managed. She realised her stomach was churning. It was ridiculous, but sh
e was bloody nervous about this party. It was her fortieth, she should be looking forward to spending it with all of her friends, but instead she had a pain in her belly. She was worried it was going to be some over-the-top extravaganza that her friends and workmates would be rolling their eyes at. She could just imagine them tut-tutting at the ostentatious show and commenting behind their hands at the wastefulness of those with ‘too much money’.

  And she fully expected that Libby would have the shits with her by now. She and John were over half an hour late. But who started a party at seven thirty, for God’s sake? She was surprised to see so many cars already in the street, astounded that she recognised some of them. None of her friends were known for their punctuality. Maybe the fancy invitations had scared them into submission. She hadn’t intended to be late, but she and John had decided to have a heart starter before they left her place, and then the rain had caused the traffic to proceed at a snail’s pace. Finally there was some cock-up with the car in front of them at the gatehouse so they were held up even further. It was like the universe was trying to give her a message that this party was a big fat mistake and that she should just go home.

  But she was here now.

  John opened the door and manoeuvred the brolly over her head. ‘Thanks very much,’ she said to the driver as she slipped out into the rain.

  They managed to make it to the front door fairly unscathed. John pressed the buzzer and moments later the door opened, but instead of being greeted by Libby it was a blond-haired woman dressed in a skin-tight paisley pantsuit welcoming them. As the woman removed her oversized pink sunglasses, Kit realised it was Felicity standing before them. The blond wig had thrown her for a minute.

  Felicity’s mouth stretched into a false-looking smile as her eyes skimmed over Kit, and then widened as she noted whose hand Kit was clasping. ‘Mr Quinlan. So lovely to see you here. Libby mentioned you might be coming.’

  ‘Lovely to see you, Mrs Gorman, and please, call me John.’ He shot Felicity one of those charming smiles of his and Kit was jolted by an unfamiliar discomfort in her chest. What the hell was that about? Could she be . . .? Oh fuck, this was just perfect. She was jealous. It was juvenile, but that smile was the one that made her stomach do flips and she didn’t want him showing it off to just anyone, least of all this vacuous idiot who thought the most important problem the world was facing was a lack of dress code enforcement in the Qantas Club. (That was a conversation she’d been treated to during the one and only event planning meeting she’d agreed to attend.)

  Felicity batted her false eyelashes. ‘John it is. And of course you must return the favour by calling me Felicity.’

  Kit inwardly rolled her eyes, but John just smiled as he removed his coat.

  Felicity put her hand on her chest. ‘Oh wow, I just love your costume. Very suave indeed.’

  Kit thought she might just throw up. John was wearing a pair of trousers and a skivvy. Hardly a groundbreaking effort, but apparently Felicity thought it was pretty special. On the other hand no mention was made of Kit’s costume. Despite her dislike of playing dress-up, she’d decided to at least try to get into the spirit of things for Libby’s sake. She’d raided her mother’s wardrobe for some of Jude’s old clothes. Her mother was such a sentimental thing, she rarely threw anything out, and thus Kit had managed to find an authentic seventies dress. It was a little tighter and a little shorter than Kit would have chosen, but it actually looked pretty good on. She’d found a fringed waistcoat to pop over the top and then bought a cheap pair of white knee-high boots online to finish the outfit off. All in all she was pretty pleased with her look, and John had assured her she would be the ‘most shaggable’ woman at the party. At home she’d felt pretty damned good about herself but now, looking at Felicity’s lithe body in that figure-hugging pantsuit, she realised she’d been a fool to think that she could compete with any of these beautiful people, especially when they had the home ground advantage.

  John held up his damp coat. ‘Is there somewhere I can leave this?’

  Felicity gestured for him to go ahead down the entry hall. ‘If you would care to take your coats into the dining room, just ahead on the right, you’ll see we’ve set up a cloakroom for guests to store their things. You can put your bag there too, Kit.’

  As she started to move Felicity stopped her, leaning in to air-kiss Kit’s cheek. ‘Darling, I’m sorry. I was so busy welcoming our school principal at the front door that I didn’t greet you properly – you are very naughty not to have RSVP’d formally on his behalf, you know. But never mind. Happy birthday, darling. We’ve all been worried sick about you. Libby especially. She thought you’d changed your mind about coming.’

  So Libby was pissed off. Oh well, she’d known that was a possibility when she’d decided to pass up the opportunity to get ready here at the house. Libby had wanted to make a whole day of it – hair, nails, make-up and then getting dressed together like they used to when they were teenagers. Kit had actually considered it for a while, but the thought of having to deal with Felicity all day – she would no doubt be hanging around in her role as ‘event coordinator’ or whatever it was she was calling herself – was too much to bear. Kit was afraid she’d snap before the party even started and then the night would be ruined. So she’d declined Libby’s offer, using work as an excuse.

  She adopted a look of contrition for Felicity’s benefit. ‘I’m so sorry. It never occurred to me that anyone would worry. I mean, we’re not really that late, are we? To be honest I didn’t expect most of the guests to be here yet. It is quite an early start for a party, don’t you think?’

  Felicity’s mouth formed a tight smile. Kit’s saccharine-laced sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. ‘Yes, well, you’re here now. We best get you inside. Everyone’s waiting on the second guest of honour.’

  John was standing outside the ‘cloakroom’ so he could escort her into the fray. He took her arm. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

  The living room was totally transformed. The couches were draped in paisley cloth and there were brightly coloured beanbags scattered throughout the room. The walls were decorated with abstract art and posters promoting peace. There was even a fondue set on the coffee table. Kit had to admit Felicity had done a good job. Her eyes scanned the room for Libby. She was standing by the door to the alfresco area talking to someone Kit didn’t recognise. Before Kit could make her way over to say hello she was stopped by Maureen. ‘Hello, birthday girl. Glad you could finally make it. Was beginning to think you’d pranked us all into coming to some posh party.’

  ‘Ha, ha. I can’t believe you’re here already. Who on earth gets to a party at seven thirty?’

  ‘Old people. We’re not twenty anymore, are we? These days I like to be tucked up in bed by midnight. Just you wait, you’ll be the same soon. Once you hit forty everything starts to change.’

  Kit rolled her eyes. ‘What a cheerful way to start my fortieth celebrations.’

  ‘Perhaps a drink might help that,’ John said. He held out his hand to Maureen. ‘John Quinlan. I’m a friend of Kit’s.’

  Kit squeezed his other hand. ‘Sorry, I should have introduced you two. I’m a bit frazzled actually. I hate these big over-the-top things. John, this is Maureen, we work together at the centre. Actually, Maureen’s my boss.’ She looked at Maureen. ‘John’s my . . . well, he’s my date.’

  Maureen smiled and raised her eyebrows at Kit in a sign of approval. ‘Nice to meet you, John, and Kit’s being generous calling me her boss. I’m the director of the centre, but Kit is her own boss, which I’m sure doesn’t surprise you.’

  John grinned. ‘Not at all. Can I get you a drink, Maureen?’

  She raised her half empty glass and shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’m fine. And no need to find the bar. There are waiters circulating. One will be by any second, I’m sure. It’s a trap, I tell you. They keep topping me
up. I’m glad I’m not driving tonight, because I can’t see myself being sober for much longer at this rate.’

  Maureen was right. She’d barely finished speaking when a waiter appeared at Kit’s side with a tray of drinks. ‘If there is nothing here to your liking the bar staff will be happy to mix you a drink of your choice,’ he said as Kit eyed the beverages on offer.

  Kit shook her head as she took a glass of bubbly. ‘This will do just fine, thank you. John, what are you having?’

  ‘Well, seeing as it’s a special occasion I might start with a glass of fizz too.’ He took one of the flutes from the tray. ‘Thank you.’

  Kit looked over John’s shoulder to see if she could catch Libby’s eye. To her surprise Libby was looking right back at her. Libby grinned and waved. ‘Will you two excuse me for a minute? I just need to say hello to the other birthday girl.’

  John looked uneasy. ‘Um, should I come?’

  ‘No, no. You stay here and entertain Maureen. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She gave him an apologetic smile before making her way across the lounge room to where Libby stood.

  Libby hugged her warmly. ‘I’m so glad you’re finally here. I was beginning to think you’d piked.’

  ‘Sorry. The weather has caused traffic chaos out there.’

  ‘Ugh, it’s such a bummer about the rain. Felicity had the alfresco area decorated in the party theme, and we installed a heap of outdoor heaters, but I doubt anyone will venture outside in this weather.’

  ‘Oh, some of my mates will. You know, the smokers.’

  Libby’s nose wrinkled slightly in distaste, but she recovered quickly. ‘Did you see Melanie and Tanya from school? I invited them and they came! Can you believe it?’