‘Are you Emma?’
The man who has come to sit next to me has the most ludicrous black curly wig on and carries an inflatable guitar.
‘Brian May?’
‘YES! Thank god for that. Someone over there thought I was the bus driver from The Simpsons but he was like twelve. I’m Nick. I work with Beth.’
‘So you’re a teacher of…’
‘Maths. Which is incredibly dull so we won’t talk about that.’
‘I like maths.’
‘At least one person does. And this is your house?’
‘It is.’
‘It’s wowsers. I still live in a flat share and I’m thirty.’ He looks into the distance slightly forlorn that this is the state of his life. Even the end of his guitar droops slightly. I want to tell him that happiness and life satisfaction is relative. He may be in a flat share but he could be in a really stable and mutual loving relationship that involves regular orgasms, in a career that is gratifying and allows him to balance travel and a social life. Happiness is not a house. I don’t get the vibe that he’s hitting on me but do get the vibe that he’s been at the punch. I didn’t even know I had a punch bowl. I think it may have been a wedding present from an old aunt of Simon’s. What sits in it now is a cranberry-coloured concoction that involves an entire bottle of rum.
A man comes down to sit next to Brian May dressed head to toe in brown, a clock drawn on his face. Oh, Big Ben. Bravo. Brian May’s attention turns to him whilst I sit here cradling my glass of red wine. Boris still stares at me. He’s engaged in conversation with a butterfly whose wings look like they’re made out of drinking straws and old tights. Beth mingles and wraps her arms around everyone. She’s introduced me to a few people and I’m polite back but tonight, I’ve mainly been involved in storing people’s coats and looking after the presents. I’m literally herding which makes this costume all the more fitting.
‘I thought that was you? How’s it going Bo?’
Next to me, one of the Batmans appears and perches himself on the sofa arm. The three of them here today range in quality. This one is mid-range, he’s not gone for the light grey body stocking sixties option that leaves a rather unfortunate moose knuckle situation. He pulls the mask back to reveal himself.
‘It’s me, Leo. From school?’
‘Horse-riding Leo?’
‘If that’s what we’re calling me.’
I laugh but my face says everything. Why are you here?
‘Oh, it was Lucy who invited me. We’ve recently bonded as school gate renegades. I hope that’s not weird, is it?’
‘Well, at least it’s someone I know. There are a lot of random faces here today.’
‘Am I allowed to say there are some kids in your kitchen preparing Jägerbombs?’
‘Like proper kids?’
‘Like younger than me, which seems to be most people these days?’
I smile. He has a glass of punch in his hand and sways merrily to the party music.
‘Anyways, I’ve had a shitty time with Faith recently. She’s being a bitch, we’re in mediation. I think Lucy invited me out of pity?’
‘She does that, she likes her waifs and strays. I found out Simon has got another woman pregnant.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Not even from him.’
‘Double ouch.’
There is a sense of camaraderie here; only Leo would know what it felt like to be in this situation. Everyone else’s empathy always felt a little misplaced.
‘I love our party talk – we always take it to such a positive place.’
He laughs a little uncontrollably at that comment – I credit the punch for this. It makes him fall into the sofa and drench me in the red stuff. I don’t think I’m wholly bothered but this may not be good if Lucy needs this outfit in the next couple of days.
‘Oh god, I am so sorry.’
Brian May turns to us and laughs. ‘Christ, Batman, we can’t take you anywhere…’
The men seem to strike up a drunken line of conversation so I stand up and leave them to their banter. I look like I’ve been stabbed. I head to my bathroom where the door is unlocked but a man dressed as a builder is on the phone.
‘Will?’
‘Sorry, Emma. I should have gone upstairs.’
‘Is everything alright?’
‘I just… I have to go.’
‘Will, it’s her birthday.’
‘It’s just… I can’t. I have work. I really can’t…’
I look at him and have an instant flashback to Simon. It was always work. He’d claim someone was dying and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. He’d leave children’s birthday dinners, family picnics and walk out in the middle of films. How many times was it a broken bone or him fleeing to go get his rocks off? I have no reason to doubt Will but my silence speaks volumes.
‘I love Beth… and Joe. You know that?’
Love. Simon used to talk of it every day. He’d drop it on to the end of texts like a way to say goodbye. It had no sincerity or meaning at all. He also said ‘Ciao’ which was one of those traits of his that made me want to throw things at his face.
‘Then show her,’ I say.
He’s not sure what that comment means and he turns to the front door.
‘You’re not going to at least tell her?’
‘She’s fine. She’s got so many friends here, you girls…’
He opens the door and slinks off as a few more guests filter in. Will. Don’t do this. But he doesn’t even look back.
Someone hands me a bottle bag. Who are you? Why have you brought crisps and are all in yellow jumpsuits? Is there a hazmat situation that I should know about? Are you minions?
I don’t know whether to chase Will down the street but he’s gone. I watch him take himself away from my house, away from this party.
‘Breaking Bad,’ says a voice trailing in from the rear. Jag. I smile. ‘Clever. Maddie is parking the car. Where are your sheep?’
‘I’ve literally lost them all. And you have come as?’
I look down, he’s wearing quite a bog-standard suit. He reaches behind him and puts on a Barack Obama mask. I smile and pull him in for a hug. He stumbles a bit from the physical proximity but alcohol makes me brave.
‘Go into the living room and give Boris a piece of your mind.’
Maddie comes shooting up the stairs covered head to toe in feathers and bright orange tights.
‘Big Bird?’
‘Yes! Where’s the drink?’
‘There’s punch in the living room.’
‘Come on Obama, let’s get sloshed.’
Jag turns to look at me. It’s a party, it’s mental. I’ll find you later. Through the kitchen door, I hear a roar of voices and think about what Leo warned me about. I head there and true enough, a gang of youths all stand around with plastic shot glasses and a bottle of Jägermeister.
‘Yo Bo!’ one of them shouts. I salute them with my crook. They seem to have turned up in their own clothes with an assortment of animal masks. We have a bear, a baboon and a badger. But we also have one poor lad who went the whole hog and has come as school uniform Britney Spears. He’s even donned the knee-high socks. They’re not particularly threatening but it’s all so youthful and screams of an experience I was supposed to have had many, many years ago. Lord, that makes me feel ancient. I go to the sink and try to exercise some damage control on Lucy’s dress.
‘Are you Lucy’s sis?’ asks one of them.
‘I am. I’m Emma.’ I wave to all the youngsters there.
‘Always good to meet fam,’ says one of them in a strong London accent. I assume that to be me and nod.
‘Nah man, she’s the doctor sister, innit? This your gaff?’ I nod again hoping I’ve answered the question in that sentence. ‘This is niiiiice, man.’
‘Why thank you.’ To match my outfit, I curtsey to the room.
‘Did you make the cake too? It is like proper legit,’ says one of them.
‘
Oh no, that was shop bought. I think her boyfriend’s contribution.’
Will, at least, did that much. It’s a two-tiered confection that is covered in gold leaf and chocolate curls, dripping in fudge, from some artisan bakery. It takes pride of place in the middle of my kitchen island and I look upon it protectively as they all admire it. A strange cocktail is pushed in front of me that seems to involve two glasses. I smile politely.
‘I am sorry lads but my shot days are over. I’m on the red tonight.’ I prove this by downing what’s left in my glass. One of them laughs at me. ‘Nah, we’re not going until you have a Jägerbomb.’ They all start clapping. I eyeball each and every one of them disapprovingly. But with a little bit of alcohol in my veins already and feeling totally lost at this party, this may be the answer. I down it all in one. Holy fire of balls.
‘What the crap is in that?’ I say as it rolls down my throat, tasting like cough syrup that’s on fire.
‘Red bull and Jäger, innit?’
‘Innit.’
They all cheer and clap and start chanting, ‘Bo! Bo! Bo!’ I curtsey again but feel the effects in my eyeballs. Maybe I jumped the gun there. I don’t know who these boys are. These drinks could be drugs. Mother of Moses, there could be Rohypnol in that drink. I may pass out soon. It could be liquid heroin. A song suddenly filters in from the next room and I hear it summon that group of boys over. They all disperse bar one who helps me tidy up. It’s Britney, bitch.
‘That costume is inspired by the way,’ I say.
‘They all fooled me and told me we were all going as Britney. I went on the Tube like this.’
He makes a very good Britney. He looks the sort who’s never quite been able to grow facial hair so there is a wonderful youthful smoothness to his skin and he has very shapely calves. He is well house-trained and knows that the Red Bull tins go in the recycling and has the foresight to crush them first. I want to congratulate this boy’s mother.
‘And how do you know Lucy?’
‘We all work for the party company. I’m Darren.’
‘Oh, her partner in crime. You do a lot of parties together, don’t you?’
‘I love your sister to bits.’
He expects me to reply with the same response but I hear a bass get turned up next door and I fear for what the neighbours may think.
‘Does she mention me at all?’ he asks.
Oh. I look up for a moment at his face all shiny and hopeful. I can see the appeal with someone like Lucy. She is young and beautiful and she’s the life and soul of a party but I wouldn’t suggest he puts his eggs in her basket, not quite yet.
‘She always talks about the parties you’ve worked on.’
He smiles back. He looks so innocent, so sweet. I remember being like that once; crushing on a handsome colleague on my course, thinking that I was special because he picked me over everyone else. Being young and hopeful. I don’t want to take that away from him just yet.
‘Are you really a doctor?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then can I ask you about a rash I have?’
This is what I need to make this party truly complete.
‘Where’s the rash?’
‘Do you want to see it? It’s on my thigh.’ He pulls at the hem of his skirt.
‘I’m good, thanks,’ I say raising my crook slightly. ‘Is it oozing?’ I ask.
‘Like how? Like pus?’
‘Pus, fluid? Is it itchy?’
‘Like you wouldn’t believe. There are bumps.’
‘I’m not a dermatologist but a lot of rashes are usually a reaction to something. Bites maybe? Any bumps anywhere else?’
‘No. Is it like an STI?’
I smile at his innocence. ‘On your thigh, then no. Unless you have these bumps on your penis?’
He blushes. ‘No.’ He then does a strange thing where he hugs me, taking my medical advice to mean he’s not dying. That said, it’s just opinion. Definitely get it checked out.
‘Oh.’ I look up from this strange embrace to see Maddie standing by the kitchen door with Beth. Britney stops hugging me, looking more guilty than he needs to. Maddie is in hysterics at seeing me being accosted by him but Beth gives me a funny look like she’s interrupted something. I give her a look knowing that she’s still carrying some judgement over Stuart Morton.
‘Darren here has a contact rash. Try something medicated like Sudocrem and keep it clean and dry.’ He nods, embarrassed, and scuttles off into the living room to rejoin his friends, his pigtails swinging in time with the bass of the music.
‘Do you ever switch off, Dr C?’ Maddie says.
‘Never.’
‘Have you seen Lucy? That punch could strip paint.’ Beth tells me. ‘And I haven’t seen Will in an age either.’
I can’t tell her. Your boyfriend is a flake. Maybe I should let her at least enjoy the cake first.
‘I have some more juice in the utility room if we need to dilute it down.’ I open the door and drop my crook. Seriously? Maddie giggles, seeing Barbie and second-rate Batman in an unexpected clinch. They part when they see me. I hope that’s just the design of Batman’s outfit and not an erection. I rub my forehead.
‘Leo.’
‘Emma.’
He takes his leave. How did that just happen? He was literally on my sofa ten minutes ago. Lucy emerges and adjusts her squeaky vinyl dress.
I roll my eyes and she reads it immediately. ‘What was that, Ems?’
‘Luce, he’s a school run dad. What on earth?’
‘Oh, stop being such a bloody prude. He’s single now, it’s a party.’
‘She can talk, I just saw her touching up Britney Spears,’ adds Beth.
‘Darren?’
Maddie looks over at Beth like she’s a little bit mad. Well, she’s definitely quite drunk and that can help matters.
‘He was asking for doctor’s advice.’
‘Sure he was,’ replied Beth.
She gives me another look. I’ve gone down in her estimations again. You’re falling down some slippery slope, sister.
‘Woah, I don’t need this. I’ve been swanning around your party trying to make this nice for you.’
‘If it was such an inconvenience then we needn’t have bothered.’
I raise my hands in shock. Well, we’re all here now, some gratitude maybe?
Lucy glares at my chest. ‘What have you done to my dress?’
‘More like, what did Leo do to my dress? With that punch you’re trying to kill people with? Why is he here? Why is my house full of random people?’
‘I was trying to do everyone a favour. You two sad cows don’t have a social life and I was trying to bring some of that here.’
‘Did you put one of those open ads on Facebook?’
‘I did not.’
‘Can you two stop fighting please?’ pleads Beth. She rubs her forehead, looking pained.
‘You always do this. You always have to be the centre of bleeding attention,’ I say.
‘Seriously guys, stop it already,’ says Beth. Maddie puts an arm around her. From the distance, we can hear a small baby cry.
Maddie tries to interrupt. ‘Girls, you’ve all had a drink. Just calm down, yeah?’ She waves her arms around and feathers fly through the air.
‘I just can’t believe she’s gone after a school gate dad. It’s like no one’s off limits with you. That’s about my girls.’
Lucy widens her eyes at me, trying to focus through all the booze but also at the lecture.
‘Shag who you like but I need to show my face at the school and I don’t want my daughters involved in any more school-gate gossip. Did you think about that at all?’ I say.
Beth pipes in. ‘Well, you can talk. I mean, you had a go on Stuart Morton last month.’
Lucy’s head swings around. ‘What happened with Stuart Morton?’
‘She slept with him when she was up north.’
I swiftly glance around hoping Jag is not in the vicinity.
>
‘You did WHAT?’ shouts Lucy. ‘And you didn’t tell me? I’ve slept with him. Beth pretty much did the same.’
‘I have not. I kissed him.’
‘And touched his willy. Meg told me,’ laughs Lucy. Beth looks like she could die of the shame.
Maddie looks confused. ‘But… Jag went up north with you.’
I glare at Beth. There’s this strange three-way fight happening in my very kitchen, around an island where we all look like cats ready to pounce. Come at me, Barbie, I have a bloody crook. I point a finger at both of them.
‘Stop this. I don’t need this today. I let you have your party and I look sodding ridiculous and now you’re shagging people in my utility room…’
‘We weren’t shagging, just some light—’
‘I don’t need to know! And you’re standing there all judgy about Stu Morton. Both of you went there with him so need to stop with all your presumption and bad advice. Ever since I got divorced, it’s just all of you hovering over me and telling me what I should be doing. I should be dating, I should be having sex, I should be telling Simon to do one. I would never tell either of you how to live your lives.’
‘We just care, Ems,’ says Beth, a little tearfully.
‘Well, maybe you should be looking after your boyfriend because he’s not even here, he left—’ As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret deep in my core so my anger switches to Barbie Girl, in her stupid effing Barbie world, thinking she’s so bloody fantastic. ‘And instead of giving me your stupid outfits and creating all this drama, you should just piss off.’
And just like that Lucy picks up that birthday cake and missiles it at me like some Olympic shotput thrower. It hits me in my chest, an explosion of fondant and sisterly love, and I stumble back onto my kitchen counters. You complete and utter cow. Maddie covers her face whilst Beth looks on in complete resignation: That was the only good bit of this party and my sister’s wearing it down her front.
Can I Give My Husband Back?: A totally laugh out loud and uplifting page turner Page 15
