The Friends We Keep

by Jane Green

  “You’re right. I feel the difference. And I didn’t think I wanted a new dog, but already it feels like this house is filled with love again. Thank you for suggesting it, even though I know you didn’t really think we’d end up with a dog.” She gave Evvie a hug.

  “You know me so well!” laughed Evvie. “We should go out to celebrate. Can we go to the pub in the village for a celebratory drink? We’ll bring Scout.”

  “Great idea,” said Maggie. “Do I have time for a shower first?”

  Evvie frowned. “Why? Is the pub posh?”

  “God, no! It’s a proper country pub, with a lovely big roaring fireplace, I might add. I just didn’t shower earlier. Give me about half an hour, that okay?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Upstairs, Maggie took a shower, and threw on some jeans and her old, comfortable boots. It was only the pub, but she paused in the hallway before returning to the bedroom.

  It may be the local pub, but she hadn’t been there in months, hadn’t seen Karen and Pete in months. They were such good friends when she ran the village fete, and Karen was fantastic after Ben died, but Maggie had been so depressed, everyone had deserted her after a while. She didn’t blame them. Karen would keep inviting Maggie out to things and Maggie kept declining. After a while she stopped asking, and after a while, she stopped phoning.

  Maggie would fix that tonight. She was looking forward to seeing them and was bound to run into people she knew. It would be nice to let them see the new, improved Maggie, the Maggie who had a constant smile on her face. Ever since the reunion, she lost the sad, drawn air that dragged her features down, and thanks to her home dye job, she was no longer a dull ginger streaked with gray, but back to her vibrant red hair.

  But the biggest change was on the inside. Maggie, who had spent her entire life feeling older and wiser than her years, was finally feeling her age rather than ten years older. In fact, if she was being honest, she felt ten years younger. Maybe fifteen. Being surrounded by friends from her youth had brought a youthfulness and a levity back into her life.

  Last week Topher insisted on taking her shopping to SouthGate. Instead of the conservative country housewife skirts and ballet flats or sensible boots that had been her uniform all her adult life, he had her trying on platform sandals, faux fur vests, and floral maxidresses in shops that Maggie had always ignored, presuming them to be for teenagers and the young at heart, which Maggie had never been.

  “It’s time for your transformation,” Topher had said. “You’ve spent your life aging up, and now it’s time to age down.”

  “I can’t look like mutton dressed as lamb,” she’d said, which cracked Topher up.

  “Trust me,” he said. “I won’t put you in anything ridiculous.”

  He spun around the shops, gathering clothes. Each time she emerged from the fitting room (he insisted on seeing everything), he clapped his hands in delight. Maggie felt vaguely ridiculous, but gorgeous, as if she were in a fancy dress she would never wear in real life. Despite herself she loved the black leather biker jacket, would never have thought to pair it with the chiffon maxiskirt, and even though the platform sneakers were the last thing she would ever have looked at, they were comfortable. For the first time since leaving Les Jolies all those years ago, Maggie looked, and felt, trendy.

  They drove home, the car piled high with bags from H&M, Urban Outfitters, and Topshop, Maggie stunned at how much they had bought, worried that she would never wear anything.

  She had worn everything, and felt beautiful in a way she never did when she was young, and photographs revealed she actually was beautiful.

  Topher was right. Even if the reflection in the mirror was almost exactly the same (with better skin—that micro derma roller thing Topher insisted she buy in Boots really had made a difference), she no longer looked fifty going on sixty-two. This new Maggie could pass for forty. Evvie said thirty-eight. The new clothes, the vibrant hair color complete with a shoulder-length, choppy “lob” had made her feel young again and, dare she say it, sexy.

  She pulled off the boots and put on the platform sneakers, slipped off the cashmere cardigan, and pulled on the faux fur vest. She grinned at herself before removing the pearl studs from her ears, replacing them with large red beaded hoops. Wiping off the clear lip gloss, she applied red lipstick and pulled her hair out of the bun, shaking it out.

  I’m ready, she thought. Not just for the pub, but ready to start living again.

  forty-two

  - 2019 -

  The unseasonal heat wave had given way to a chill in the air in the evenings, but the village had never felt more beautiful to Maggie, never felt more like home. She hadn’t strolled like this, to the pub, in years. She tried to avoid the pub when Ben was home, knowing a quick pint of beer would always end in a binge for him, but they did this in the early days, strolled down the lanes on a summer night. It felt even better now, with Topher and Evvie, and Scout on a lead.

  Evvie was walking in front, wrapping her arms around herself, wishing she had brought a coat. “God, it’s chilly. When did it get so chilly?”

  “Winter is coming,” said Topher, putting an arm through Evvie’s and squeezing her tight. “Better?”

  “A bit.”

  “Wait for us,” said Maggie as Scout stopped every few feet to sniff the unfamiliar smells. Maggie pretended to be irritated, but was clearly delighted at having a dog again.

  “Oh, look!” Topher said as they rounded the corner and the pub came into view. “That’s like a picture postcard of what a pub should look like.”

  It was true, the ivy-covered stone building was one of the prettiest for miles. Barrels of geraniums and fuchsias sat outside in summer, with hanging baskets everywhere. Now that autumn was well and truly in the air, the hanging baskets were starting to die off. The barrels were filled with box balls, and every window was alight with a warm, inviting glow.

  Inside there was a huge inglenook fireplace with a blazing fire, low ceilings and beams that dated back to the sixteenth century. The bar was full, people perching on stools, bursts of laughter punctuating the air, but there were still empty tables.

  “Maggie? Is that you?” Karen came toward her, tentatively at first, before flinging her arms around her.

  “You’re back!” she said, holding her at arm’s length. “Look at you! You look like yourself again. Oh, Maggie. I’ve been so worried about you but I didn’t want to keep bothering you. I didn’t know what to do, but I’ve been thinking of you all this time.”

  “I’ve been thinking of you too,” said Maggie. “I needed to remove myself for a while, but now I’m back.”

  “And looking better than ever, might I say! Does this mean you’ll come back to us at the village fete? It hasn’t been the same without you.”

  “I’ll definitely think about it,” said Maggie, introducing Karen to Topher and Evvie.

  “These are my oldest friends,” she said as they all shook hands.

  “Very nice to meet you all. Are you here for the weekend?” asked Karen.

  “Not exactly,” said Topher.

  “They’ve moved in with me,” said Maggie. “We all lived together at university and we’ve decided to live together again.”

  “Now that is a good idea,” said Karen. “No wonder you look so good. I’ve been so worried about you, rattling around in that big old house by yourself. It’s grand to meet you all. We’ve got a lovely table by the fireplace that’s reserved but they’re late so why don’t you take it. I’ll move them if they show up.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to have dinner,” Maggie said, looking at the others. But Topher had his gaze firmly fixed on a plate of fish and chips that was being carried out of the kitchen.

  “That looks delicious,” he said. “Maybe we’ll have a little something to eat.”

  “Either way, doesn’t matter. Take
the table and first round is on the house.”

  “Karen, you don’t have to . . .”

  “I know I don’t. I want to. And, Maggie, let’s you and I get together this week. I’ve missed you. Righto, everyone. What will you all have?”

  A few minutes later they were cozily ensconced near the fire with drinks in hand. “Now this,” said Evvie, sipping her gin and tonic and looking around the pub, “really does feel like we’ve regressed. I haven’t been in a pub since I moved to New York.”

  “I thought there were tons of Irish pubs in New York,” said Maggie. “I’ve been there. I’ve seen them.”

  “They’re not like this though. Not proper English country pubs. They’re more like bars, with four-leaf clovers and pictures of leprechauns everywhere. I haven’t been in a proper, centuries-old, cozy beamed pub with a giant fireplace since college. Cheers!” She lifted her glass. “Here’s to many more nights in the pub.”

  “Here’s to bad-taste pub crawls in our future,” said Topher, shooting Evvie a look.

  “Yes!” Maggie started laughing. “Here’s to Evvie dressing up as a pregnant nun.”

  “What were you?” Evvie looked at Topher. “I remember you were there but I have no idea what your costume was.”

  “I went as a drunk. I covered my pants with mushy peas as if I’d vomited on them.”

  “Oh my God, now I remember. That was disgusting.”

  “That’s probably why you forced yourself to forget.”

  “Excuse me?”

  They all stopped talking and laughing to look up and see a handsome, clean-cut man standing near their table—one of the men, Topher thought, that was sitting at the bar.

  Maggie squinted at him, feeling her heart plummet. Oh God. Not this again.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt but . . .” He looked at Evvie. “Are you Evvie Thompson?”

  Evvie nodded. “Do I owe you money?” she joked, not knowing quite what to say, for no one had recognized her in such a long time.

  “Oh my God. I thought it was you, but then I thought, what on earth would Evvie Thompson be doing in my sleepy little village? I’m sorry. I’m just, I’m a huge fan. I used to watch you on that TV show where you played Yolanda, and I’ve just . . . wow. Sorry. I just can’t believe you’re in this pub. What are you doing here? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of stalker or anything.”

  “No, that’s fine,” said Evvie, who was glowing, because whoever this man was, and despite the fact that he was wearing a wedding ring, he was quite clearly smitten with her. Evvie, who was still bigger than she would like to be, who still believed the world could only be her oyster if she was skinny, still so hung up on her weight, she didn’t think she would ever have this effect on anyone again. “I live here now.” She smiled, feeling beautiful for the first time in ages.

  His eyes widened in shock. “You do? I know Stella McCartney’s nearby but I never heard your name. I’m James Sullivan, by the way.” He shook Evvie’s hand, then Topher’s, before giving an embarrassed smile to Maggie. “Hi, Maggie. Nice to see you in the pub. You’re looking well.”

  “Nice to see you here,” she said. “Do you have a permanent roost at the bar?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “No. I’m not here often enough. I’m just here for a quick bite to eat while Emily’s out with the girls.”

  “Chicken?” Maggie asked, before she started to laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  “That’s okay. I took your advice and bought earplugs. Now the children all like the rooster. I’m sorry I was such an arse that day. Can I get you all a drink to apologize properly?”

  Maggie was about to say no, but before she had a chance, Topher jumped in. “That would be lovely. Thank you. I’m having a vodka martini with olives.” He looked at the others, who all chimed in, with Maggie adding her own gin and tonic.

  “He’s nice,” said Evvie, when he had gone to the bar to get the drinks. “A little young perhaps, but very handsome.”

  “And very married,” added Topher, gesturing to the third finger on his left hand, “before you get any ideas. Although he does seem to be rather smitten, you cougar, you.”

  “First off, I wasn’t thinking that,” said Evvie, blushing. “Secondly, he wouldn’t be interested in me. I’m not only old enough to be his mother, look at me. I’m hardly the Evvie Thompson of old. Or rather, I’m twice the Evvie Thompson of old. He’s just got a celebrity crush.”

  “Evvie, you are stunning,” said Maggie. “Whatever weight you are, you are beautiful. How can we get this into your head? When will you stop beating yourself up about your size? Frankly, I thought you were way too thin when you were modeling. I used to see pictures of you and wish I could fly over and feed you.”

  “She’s right,” said Topher. “I think you have to let go of this weight madness.”

  “I’m working on it,” Evvie said, which was true. Rather than avoid full-length mirrors, which she had done since the end of her marriage, she had bought a full-length mirror for her room, and stood naked, looking at herself, every day. She embraced her full breasts, her rounded stomach, her thick thighs, telling herself she was curvy, womanly, and feminine. “I am lush,” she whispered to herself, “and luscious. I am beautiful exactly as I am. This belly has held my child. Some women pay a fortune to have breasts like mine.” These affirmations felt ludicrous when she started, but the more she said them, the easier it was, and even though she was a work in progress, she had started to feel better about herself.

  She was starting to accept that this was the body she was supposed to have now. As tempting as it had been to do keto, paleo, intermittent fasting, to take pills, cut out all carbohydrates and sugar, go vegan, she was fifty years old, too old to get back on the crazy diet roundabout she was on for years when young. Until she started accepting herself exactly as she was, she would never be at peace, and she was starting to get over the shame of no longer being a size two.

  “Who is he, anyway, this handsome man who has excellent taste in women?” Evvie said, changing the subject.

  “He’s our neighbor,” said Maggie. “You know all the huge new houses that line our road?”

  “The ones you’re always taking the piss out of because they’re so aspirational?” asked Evvie. “Wisteria Hall?”

  “Indeed. That, in fact, is lord of the manor of Chestnut Hill.”

  “Chestnut Hill Manor? Didn’t you say you used to be friends with them but you’d fallen out?”

  “We had. Maybe we’re falling back in,” whispered Maggie as James headed back to the table with drinks.

  “May I join you?” he asked. “My friends are leaving and I’d love to have another drink, if that’s okay.”

  Evvie didn’t wait to confer with the others. “Of course!” She slid over on the bench to make room for him.

  “So I understand from Maggie here that we’re neighbors.”

  “Oh, really? Gosh, how unexpected. Where are you living?”

  “We’re all living with Maggie,” Evvie announced with a flourish.

  There was a pause as he frowned, trying to understand. “You are?”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re going to start complaining about the noise.” Maggie couldn’t help herself.

  “I haven’t heard any noise. I had no idea. How does that work then? Have you divided up the house?”

  “Haven’t needed to,” said Topher. “Have you seen the place? It’s enormous.”

  “Well, cheers!” said James, raising his glass. “Welcome, new neighbors!”

  * * *

  • • •

  Jesus,” Maggie said, sliding over to Topher, her head falling awkwardly on his shoulder. “I think I’m a bit drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk,” said Evvie, “I’m completely fucking arsed,” and she starte
d giggling.

  “We’re going to pay for this tomorrow,” said Topher, blinking until he could actually focus on James. “James, I blame you. This was supposed to be an hour’s quick drink. This is all your fault.”

  “This isn’t my fault! This is Evvie’s fault. If she wasn’t here, I wouldn’t have come over. Evvie, you are a very naughty girl.” He wagged his finger at her, and Evvie burst out laughing.

  “Stop flirting with her. She’s too old for you,” said Topher.

  “Psssssshhhh,” said Evvie, looking at James. “Don’t be so rude. Anyway, he’s married and that’s a road I’m definitely not going down again.”

  “Oh, really? Is there more to this story?” asked Topher as Evvie paled, shaking her head.

  “What time is it?” James pulled out his phone and tried very hard to focus on it. “Oh shit.”

  “Last orders!” called Karen from the bar. She came to the table. “I think maybe you lot should be making your way home. Will you be okay?”

  “Karen?” Maggie stood up and swayed a bit. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

  “No, darling, but I love you, too, and I think it’s time you all got yourselves safely tucked up in bed. Do you need Pete to chaperone you home? He’s upstairs but I can go and get him.”

  “No,” said Maggie, falling on Karen and giving her a hug. “We will be fine. Next time will you do a lock in? It’s only eleven. You should do a lock in tonight and let us stay all night.”

  “Maybe next time,” said Karen, steadying Maggie. “You’re sure you’ll all be all right?”

  “Sure,” said Maggie as they all stood up and swayed, giggling as they tried to get their coats on.

  “James, you walk with me,” said Maggie, pulling him away from Evvie. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.” She slipped her arm through his and they stepped outside into the cold air.

  “You’re quite nice, you know,” she said as they walked. “Even though you drive a Tesla and you’re part of the whole new yummy-mummy crowd, you’re all right. I like you.”