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

No further enlightenment is forthcoming, however, as Miriam carries on regardless, onto yet another subject already.

‘The end-of-terrace in the street that leads off the far end of the recreation ground, isn’t it? It’s not a bad place, though I heard when it went on the market that it had a bit of a problem with damp.’

She seems to know a lot about me. I keep quiet, wanting and simultaneously not wanting to know how the village of Biglow has categorised me.

‘Well, did it?’ Miriam demands, interrupting my thoughts. ‘Have a problem with damp? I mean, you hear so many rumours but you don’t know if any of it is true or not. It looks like a nice house to me. Small, obviously – but people seem to want so much these days – en suite bathrooms, open-plan kitchen-diners, you name it. What’s wrong with walls, I ask you? Anyway, your little place is, in my opinion, quite ample for a family of four, I’m sure.’

Finally, she dries up. She takes a big swig of her glass of fizz and looks at me expectantly. I’m not sure which misconception to address first.

‘The damp is really nothing serious,’ I say, deciding on the least personal, ‘and the seller sorted it as a condition of completion.’

I finish my cup of tea, deliberately place it back on the counter and look at my watch. ‘And there are only three of us – me and my two children. I’m divorced.’

It seems ridiculous that, in this day and age, it should still be so difficult to say the ‘d’ word. But it is. Far from symbolising freedom and opportunity, it conjures up an image of someone unwanted, cast aside. There’s such comfort in coupledom, such cosiness. Two people, standing side-by-side, against the world is such a beguiling prospect, and it hurts when I think that I might have lost that feeling forever, might never know it again.

But the reality is that I can’t imagine how, where, or when I could ever meet someone new, find another partner. I know that lots of women – and men – find their partners online. But I’ve heard so many scare stories, of terrible dates, scary dates, boring dates, cringeworthy dates, not to mention the horrendous attempts at extortion that women – especially women – suffer, or the ghosting, or the revenge porn. I’m full of admiration for those who take the plunge and for whom it works out well. But I’m nowhere near brave or self-confident enough for that right now, and I’m not sure I ever will be. Which leaves me exactly where I am, focusing on doing the best for my amazing boys but knowing that, one day, they’ll have grown up and left home.

And then it’ll be just me and my solitude forevermore.

A phone rings, its piercing bell cutting through the chattering voices, clinking glasses, and setting down of crockery. My heart skips a beat. All of a sudden I’m reminded of all the calls from Justin’s creditors that presaged disaster, the demands for money that he could not pay. Charlotte’s phone rings and rings and no one answers, just like I, too, stopped answering for fear of who might be on the other end.

‘I–I really ought to be making a move,’ I say, flustered. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Miriam. I’m sure we’ll see more of each other, round and about.’

Miriam looks momentarily nonplussed that I’m not about to divulge any more secrets about myself, but quickly changes her expression to one of regret.

‘That’s a shame, going so soon,’ she exclaims. ‘I’ll drop by sometime soon though, see how you’re doing!’

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ I dissemble. I can’t see Miriam and me becoming soulmates but I’m grateful to her for reaching out to me. Even if her motive does seem to have been gleaning as much information about me and my family as possible.

I slide off the high stool and onto the tiled floor, my heels click-clacking against the stone and leaving behind a trail of mud specks, a legacy of the wet field earlier. As I make my way through the enormous room, ducking and diving between the groups of guests, I see Charlotte standing by the door, gazing distractedly out into the walled garden. She looks troubled and I wonder what could possibly be amiss in her apparently perfect life. I want to say goodbye to her, and thank you, but something stops me. It’s as if, right now, a magnetic forcefield surrounds her, preventing anyone getting close.

Then I remember the wink that she gave me earlier, that indicated alliance, allegiance. My footsteps lighten and I sigh with relief.

Perhaps she and I will become friends, like our boys are friends, and I’ll fit into this community in a way I never felt I truly did in Barnes. I leave the kitchen in search of the boys with the sudden, heady, and totally unexpected feeling of hope.

Chapter 4

Charlotte

Steamy, sultry heat. Sweat beading on my back and my forehead. Concentration furrowing my brow. The weight of a wordless silence, the low flutter of rifled notes, my breathing forcibly steady and even.

The envelope pushed under the door, a note inside it comprising one single word.

I press my forehead against the sliding door that separates inside from out, desperate for the feel of the cool glass against my skin. The phone’s ring was klaxon loud, cutting across the noise of the prattling horde in the kitchen as if it were no louder than whispers, rocking the house to its very foundations.

I thought, when I heard it, what I always think. That this is it. That this time, it is them. Oh God, please don’t let it be them.

I didn’t answer it. I didn’t dare to. I ignored it and it rang out.

The house is full of people and I should be tending to their every need. But right now, in the aftermath, I just need