Out Late with Friends and Regrets (13 page)

“Yeah, Jake leaving made us think about moving, but it never happened, somehow,” added Dave.
 
“Still, you never know, when Miriam and Lulu go off to uni… C’mon, are you ready for another drink, Fin?”

“No, honestly,” she replied, determined to spin out the alcohol intake as long as possible.

“Let’s see now, do we know anyone with a place for sale, Rachel?”

“Not lately.
 
Everybody’s sitting tight, I think, or extending.”

“I’m sure we had the local property pages through the door yesterday, Rache – what happened to them?”

“In the compost bin with the peelings in it, I think – oh, what a shame…”

There was a hammering at the front door.
 
Could it be Ellie?

The couple answered the door together, and as the latch clicked a confusion of voices filled the hall, and Fin was unable to tell how many were in the party.
 
Three were ushered in, and introduced as friends from the department.
 

“Fin will soon be living in Harford – friend of Ellie’s,”
 
Rachel informed the trio, and left the room to fetch some hastily-depacketed nibbles, while Dave carried in glasses and some opened bottles of wine.
 
Fin noticed with interest that the Trafford Bay was not in evidence.

“Shall we start with the Cava?” he asked, “got a nice solid Barolo and a couple of very drinkable South African lollipops that we can try later …”

Tilda, the Brands’ colleague next to Fin on the sofa, was already engaging her in conversation as if genuinely interested.
 
Unused to such direct questioning in new company, she replied almost as if being interviewed, forgetting to make reciprocal enquiries; but after a few stumbles, she managed to make the exchange sound like a conversation. Then the room filled up with new people, who had presumably herded through the front door without knocking.
 
Those already seated stood up, and Fin felt suddenly isolated, surrounded by a scary forest of strangers, all greeting and talking to each other.
 
She wondered whether to remain sitting or stand.
 
Stand.
 
Was Ellie in the crowd?
 
No.

“Hello.
 
Oh, hello,” she offered, hesitantly, on being faced with a couple of smiles turning in her direction.

“Hi! I’m Jackie, and this is my partner, Trish.”

“Fin.
 
Lovely to meet you.
 
I’m new around here – a bit out of my depth, to be honest.”

“Not surprised.
 
These gatherings can be pretty overwhelming to the uninitiated, unless you’re a raving extrovert.”

Feigning nonchalance, the outsider replied, “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I have my moments!”

This was interesting.
 
Jackie and Trish were the first female couple she had met, and she was anxious to keep them talking, if possible.
 
They were both fresh-faced girls in their twenties; Jackie a blonde with glasses and Trish a brunette, her hair worn in short pigtails.
 
Pleasant, everyday people, with not a sign of “Lesbian” tattooed across their foreheads.

“Come on, then, Fin,” chaffed Jackie, “tell us about yer moments!”

“Just the juicy ones, mind,” added Trish.

Fin badly wanted to ask them about their life together, but of course the silly banter was a necessary preliminary.
 
She played along.
 

“Sure, sure – how long’ve you got?
 
You don’t shock easily, I trust?”

“Nah.
 
But seriously … New, how? Who with?”

“I’m actually a friend of Ellie’s.”
 
Ellie, though absent, seemed to be something of an icon hereabouts; perhaps, as with Rachel and Dave, mention of her name might serve as both introduction and recommendation.
 
It did.

“Oh-ho,” chorused the girls, Trish adding with an exaggerated flutter of eyelashes, “Welcome to the sisterhood of Harford – nice to see a new face on the scene!”

“Well, nice-ish,” was Jackie’s follow-up, jabbing Trish in the ribs with fake force.
 
“Just remember, this one’s spoken for, OK?”

“Shame,” sighed Fin, eyes twinkling.
 
Good start.
 
She was about to ask if she could fetch them a drink, since the abundant hospitality seemed to have hit a random patch, when a slightly more obvious candidate for the forehead tattoo joined them with, “Hi, Jacks – Hi, Toots – who’s this bastard, then?”

The shock effect of this enquiry was much diluted by the heavy Australian accent, and by the genial appearance of the rotund person uttering it.

“Archer!” cried Trish, embracing the newcomer, as the self-styled jealous lover encircled the two of them in her arms, with cries of apparent pleasure.
    

Introductions were made, and Fin was immediately charmed by the contagious friendliness of the woman.
 
She had a pug face with a snub nose, and an undershot jaw emphasised the canine likeness.
 
Her features lit up as she took Fin’s hand with a powerful paw.

“Good to meet you, Archer,” said Fin.

“Probably the most romantically successful butch lady in town,” commented Jackie, with obvious respect.

“I get by,” acknowledged Archer modestly, but with an unmistakable touch of swagger.
 
In the ensuing conversation, Fin gathered that Archer worked in one of the college libraries, but that her main income came from moonlighting as a minicab driver.

“Specialise in carrying ladies,” she grinned, “they feel safe with me, and of course I’m only too happy to listen to their troubles – how the boy-friend dumped them and went off with the best friend at the disco or party, that kinda thing.
 
Amazin’ how often I get invited in for coffee.
 
End up makin’ it, too, sometimes.”

“That’s the coffee, you mean, of course.”

“Yeah, well … Never take advantage of a girl when she’s drunk, though.
 
Got me moral code, y’know.
 
Still, plenty of nice times, and a few half-decent relationships I’ve had outta me cabbie’s job.
 
Can’t complain!”

“She’s so
smug
, Fin,” groaned Jackie, as Archer chuckled.

More people seemed to be pressing into the crowded room, and Fin noticed that behind the twenty-or-so conversations, an operatic aria soared incongruously.
 
It was getting very hot, and those nearest the windows had started to open them.

“Rachel! Rachel! Where’s my gorgeous girl?” bellowed a loud male voice, certainly not Dave’s.

“Gor, shit, it’s bloody Hamish,” announced Archer, “He still with Doc?”, the question addressed to nobody in particular.
 
Fin looked over towards the voice, and saw a huge Viking of a man, complete with shoulder-length fair hair and bushy moustache, making his way towards the hostess with arms open.
 
In his wake followed a flop-haired, fine-boned young man in a pale suit.

“Yep.
 
Still together,” replied Archer to her own question, “It’s definitely love, this time.”

Hamish bent over the unseen Rachel, declaring for the room’s benefit that he adored her madly, and was it going to be a barbecue, because it was
too
murderously hot inside?
 
At this, the whole company made for the back door as if under orders, and Fin and her little group joined the fat queue shuffling through the kitchen past the untidy worktops and into the jasmine-scented garden.
 
Two people lifted a table out, and some a few kitchen chairs and cushions; and food appeared as if by miraculous substantiation on the table.
 
More bottles, then, and more glasses, paper cups and even china mugs.
 
It was all delightfully ad hoc, and by now Fin was really enjoying herself.
 
Drink number five had dissolved her natural reserve, and she talked happily to anyone who came within distance.
 
Inevitably the Viking approached, Doc in tow.

“Fin,” she opened boldly, offering a hand, “friend of Ellie’s.”

“Da-a-a-ahling!” he exclaimed, delivering a hug and the double-mwah. “We’ve been dying to meet you for the
longest
time – heard
so
much about you!”

“Lying git,” she replied affably,” I got to know Ellie only last week, and I’ve never met anyone here before in my entire life!”

He pulled an agonised face, and made as if to bite the back of his hand, as Doc laughed immoderately.
 
“Damn this poor old memory of mine,” he sighed, “it’s just that - you seem so familiar...
 
I feel that fate has just been waiting to bring us together, somehow...”

“Priceless,” grinned Doc.
 
“Hamish, that
so
serves you right, you bloody poseur!”

Hamish bridled and pursed in his direction, murmuring, “Thank you, dear.”
 
Then, to Fin, “Just
wait
till I get him home!”

Fin asked him what they both did, and about their interests, and in real conversation found the pair of them charming and intelligent.
 
The high camp flourishes simply formed a decorative motif on their social joint persona, it seemed. Perhaps it was expected.
 
Hamish told her he was an antiques dealer, and that he had started to dabble in property developing.
 
Doc, a lab technician, listened attentively, nodding and adding the occasional remark.
 
They were both heavily involved in the local amateur operatic society, but would readily defect to any amdram club in town for a good part, and had been headhunted flatteringly often.

“Boasting again, Hamish?”

A woman had come up between the two of them, and smiled at Fin. She wore her beige-blonde hair in a neat updo, and her turnout had an air of easy elegance. The men exchanged kisses with her, and Hamish said, “Fin, this is Petra, who looks after my shop when I’m not there.”

“I have a cabinet of antique jewellery in there amongst his rubbish,” said Petra.

“Little wonder people think Foibles is expensive,” sighed Hamish.

“We actually do each other a power of good,” said Petra, who had only just let go of Fin’s hand. She opened a smart leather handbag, and handed Hamish a bunch of keys.

“That geeky chap came back for the inkwells, Hamish, and he bought the first edition too,” she said.

“Good God. He must have fancied you, sweetie.”

“Naturally! Well, I’m off to circulate for half an hour before I go home and get stuck into some more research.” She turned to Fin, adding, “I’m writing a book on 20
^th
. Century jewellery, Fin. Lovely to meet you,” before turning away through the crowd.

“Charming woman,” said Fin.

“She’s improved no end since we divorced,” said Hamish, with mock seriousness.

“No, you’re kidding!”

“Not at all. We’re actually really close since we stopped being married. Don’t know how I’d manage without her.”

Eyes rolling, Doc mimed playing a violin, and received a playful slap.

Fin was just about to ask about the shop, when somebody clasped and squeezed her right buttock, and there was Ellie by her side.
 
The outraged remonstrances with which she had planned to greet her mentor now seemed irrelevant, and she simply smiled Hi.
 
She had ridden the difficult situation well, she felt, and it had all worked out OK.