The Best of Friends by Alex Day (english novels to read .TXT) 📗

from the fields specially for the meal but she was so picky, going on and on about whether they were safe or not. As if I were trying to poison her or something!’

You drink a big slug of your wine. ‘P-p-poison?’ your voice is suddenly shaky and uncertain, and I begin to worry about how much you’ve drunk, whether you’re going to be too incapacitated to take care of Luke tonight. ‘Of course, that would be absurd. Absolutely absurd.’

‘Precisely,’ I say, placing my glass decisively onto the table. ‘Who in their right mind would attempt to poison someone?’

You don’t reply. I continue.

‘I didn’t know that Naomi fancied Dan at this point, obviously,’ I explain. ‘I didn’t know anything about her at all. As soon as I saw them together I could see what she was up to – and I knew it was a case of “keep your friends close and your enemies closer”. The problem was that the mushrooms did make her a tad unwell – dicey stomach, you know. But she made such a fuss about what was just a simple mistake!’

You seem nonplussed, at a loss as to what to say. I’m suddenly conscious of having overshared, of having burdened you with problems of mine that you shouldn’t have to be involved in.

But then you speak and it all feels all right again.

‘I’m sorry, Charlotte,’ you say, slightly slurring your words. ‘You extended the hand of friendship to Naomi and she slammed it back in your face. It clearly wasn’t your fault about the mushrooms.’

You’re so right. I knew you’d understand. Stupid Naomi, with her ‘local’ accent and guttural man’s laugh and her tits that are the size of cantaloupe melons, is completely out of order. And it’s so galling to see how generously sized she is all over; it’s the thing about her that especially maddens me. Since the post-twin battle of the bulge, I have always gone to so much time and trouble and effort to stay a size eight and here Dan is, only too happy at the prospect of being eaten alive by a ten-ton temptress. And one who is always available by dint of living just around the corner. What do they say about low-hanging fruit? Naomi is certainly that and I’m not just referring to her over-large bosoms. The thing that probably annoys me most is that she’s just so damn cheap and common, so blowsy, with her huge hoop earrings and orange tan. How can Dan not see how far beneath him she is?

My thoughts are rambling, running away with me. I pull myself together.

‘I should go,’ I say. ‘It’s getting late.’

After a few obligatory exhortations for me to stay, to have a coffee or a cup of tea, which I refuse, you escort me down the short and narrow hallway to your front door.

‘It’s been so lovely to spend time with you.’

‘And you,’ you say, as we air kiss. ‘Thanks for providing the wine – and for gifting me your evening.’

I smile. ‘It was my pleasure.’ I even mean it.

I almost trip on the uneven path to your front gate. Once again, you apologise for something that isn’t your fault, namely the loose paving stone. It’s clear you don’t have the money to fix anything about the house, which is a bit run-down all over, if I’m honest, and with a slightly strange smell. But homely. Definitely homely.

‘Um, are you OK to drive?’ you ask as you see me retrieving my car keys from my bag.

‘Oh yes, fine,’ I reply, zapping the car doors unlocked. ‘It’s only round the corner.’ I turn and give you a short wave. ‘See you soon. I’ll be in touch.’

In the dusky evening light I see your face blanch as I open the car door. But, unlike many women, I can hold my drink and I’m actually not the least the worse for wear. And you’ll soon learn that everyone pushes the alcohol limit in the country – there’s only one police traffic patrol car in the whole county, so the chances of being caught are practically nil.

Climbing in, I stow my handbag on the passenger seat. I start the engine and fasten my seatbelt, looking around me warily. You have disappeared back inside your gloomy house and there’s no one else around. I’m so edgy these days, always tense. If I see the black car I’ll just ram it, I tell myself, full of alcohol-induced boldness. That’ll teach them.

Immediately, I feel sick. If I see the black car, I don’t know what I’ll do.

But I don’t encounter a single other vehicle on the short journey home. As I enter my driveway, I nick the wing mirror on the gatepost, but it’s nothing serious. After checking the boys, I climb into bed. Dan’s left me a message to say he’ll be late home. I’m exhausted but, despite Dan’s unexpected absence, less desolate than usual.

It’s always good to make a new friend. Someone who can pledge to my good character in court, I think to myself with a hollow laugh. If it were ever to get that far. Something tells me that the people I’m dealing with don’t bother with the small matter of the rule of law.

They are a law unto themselves.

Chapter 12

Susannah

As soon as Charlotte’s gone, I rush to the sitting room to check on Luke again. He should have been in bed hours ago but I wanted to keep him near me so I would hear him if he called. Curled up on the sofa, he’s fast asleep, his expression relaxed, serene, and peaceful. I can’t believe he got away with nothing more than bruises from a fall that sounded quite serious; I know Charlotte was playing it down to stop me getting hysterical.

Even though he’s eight, and I’m half the size of Hana the au pair – notwithstanding my ‘sturdy’ arms – I manage to lift him and haul him up the stairs to his bed. As soon as