Out Late with Friends and Regrets (22 page)

“Well, thanks for saving me from his clutches, Archer. What a creep.”

“Nah, Henry’s not the worst. Just as long as you know he’s a dedicated letch. He’ll chat up anyone who looks as if they might be female.”

“Even lesbians, it seems!”

“Especially lesbians, I’d say. Even the Desperate Dan lookalikes – he tried one on me, once. Can you
believe
that?”

“Obviously drawn to your winsome personality, Archer!”

“Fuck off, Fin. Actually, we’re all convinced he’s got a library of lesbian-action porn on his PC. He always turns up at any event where there’s likely to be a few dykes in the mix. Harmless, though. Probably goes home and wanks all over the Boadicea essays!”

“Just a poor lonely misfit, then.”

“No, he’s actually married...” Archer chuckled at a memory. “He once brought her along to a party. Some of us kept him talking while Ellie took her out on the balcony, poured Cava and brandy down her neck, and turned on the charm full blast – “

“Oh wow. What happened?”

“Fucking nearly pulled! We heard screaming and rushed to see what was up, but Dorry was just screeching with laughter, pickled as a gherkin, and definitely up for a little closeness with our blessed leader.”

“Poor Dorry.”

“Nah, Ellie wouldn’t have followed through – she’s a real lady. And Dorry Moffet’s a happy little soul, basking in hubby’s reflected glory and running her committees. Doesn’t come to parties any more.”

There was a roar of clapping, stamping, and hooraying as Annie left the stage. Archer grabbed Fin’s arm, and pulled her through the outskirts of the crowd.

“What the –”

“Bloody
bar!
” shouted Archer, “Won’t get near it in a minute – come
on
!”

“I’ll buy you one!” Fin yelled back.

Considering the wide age range of the partygoers, participation in the dancing was impressively universal. Fin, eager to get into the thick of it, left her drink on a window ledge, and circled the perimeter of the hall. Archer had pointed out a potential dance partner, but the girl was up with someone else and twitching one hip to the music before Fin reached her. Just beyond, Trish stood with three or four others, trying to carry on a conversation above the music.

“Dance, Trish?”

“What?”

“Do you want to
dance
?”

“Sure! Jen, look after my drink, will you?”

Fin began to dance, watching Trish’s moves carefully, copying and incorporating them into her own. There were over ten years between them in age difference, and Fin had heard too many jokes about embarrassing dads at weddings to want to show herself up as a throwback.

She did at least have the advantage of a clean slate; the only dancing she had done during her marriage had been around the house, the player turned up to deafening levels, exulting in the sheer exuberance of music and movement. Only when Paul was out, though. They didn’t go to parties, much less to discos or clubs. Well, she had persuaded him once or twice, early on. She remembered the dizzy excitement of planning what to wear, weeks ahead, counting the days. And the crushing disappointment of having to cancel, on some pretext or other. At least cancelling had spared her a repetition of the one nightmare occasion she remembered: there had been a drunken fight. Having danced with the hostess all night and plied her with ever more suggestive remarks, Paul had accused the husband of leering at Fiona, and things had got very nasty. She had dragged him off home before the police could be called, and endured in silence his laying the blame at her door the next day. After that, of course, he told and retold a strangely skewed version of events, as an anecdote they could laugh over. In time, it began to feel as if it was the truth, and as if it was her memory of things that was at fault. But she used to think of that night as an aberration; it would be different, next time. What an idiot.

She smiled happily at Trish as she moved her body. No agendas. Freedom. Oh, freedom. The track ended, and Trish mouthed “Thanks”. Fin acknowledged, and prepared to move away.

“You’re a great dancer,” Trish added loudly, in her ear.

“Maybe be back for another one later!”

“Yeah, do. Hey, just seen Jackie – over there, she’s late – come and say hi.”

Having renewed the acquaintance, and registering satisfaction that things were well between the two girls, Fin finished her drink and took a moment to enjoy the entertainment. To her pleasure, she identified Henry Moffett and Archer performing an oddly tribal dance together in the starshot gloom, and even more weirdly, the lovely retro June doing robotics in a mixed group of four to “Metal Micky”.
 
This time she asked for a bottle of water at the bar. She didn’t want to get wasted; she wanted the control to enjoy – and remember - every moment.

“Fin! Hey, Fin!”

No mistaking that booming voice; Ellie had arrived. She was standing with Annie Harney, and was waving vigorously through fleeting bars of magenta and green. Fin returned the wave, and Ellie beckoned her over.

“How’s it going, Fin?”

“Fantastic. Really having the greatest time.”

“Terrific! You’ve met the professor, I understand?”

The noise level was slightly lower at this end of the hall, but communication was still not without its difficulties. Fin smiled politely at the professor, and nodded, feeling that she needed to show some independence.

“Yes. Fantastic party, professor! Ellie, I’ll come and claim you for one of your famous boogie numbers later, OK?”

“Yah, OK!”

Fin waded through the crowd, looking out for a likely dance partner in the dark. Somebody on the fringe of the main action, perhaps.

“Fin.”

Even in the thick of the noise, the voice was familiar.

“Will you dance with me.”

Flat, expressionless delivery. It had to be that damned girl.

“Oh, hello, Cecilia,” said Fin, “Sure, come on.”

Cecilia wafted to and fro above the waist, like a tree in a high wind, her feet apparently glued to the floor, as Fin concentrated on her own new dancing skills, looking round from time to time to see whether Cecilia’s girlfriend might be simmering on the sidelines. They had parted on civilised terms, and that’s the way it should stay, preferably without reacquaintance. After a couple of tracks Cecilia leaned forward, putting her hands on Fin’s shoulders. Fin stiffened, but the girl put her face close and said, “I’m going now. Goodbye.”

“Oh, OK. Bye,” replied Fin, as Cecilia disappeared into the throng.

There was something very liberating about going up to people and asking them up onto the floor, knowing that if they said no it was nothing personal. She danced with several students and with two women she assumed were tutors but who could equally have been mature students, and briefly with the balding MC with the wild and woolly side tufts, when he cut in and began gyrating in front of her.

And then there was a half-hour interval, during which the guests were invited to help themselves at a buffet set out in a side room. About half of them grabbed their cigarettes from jackets and bags, and stampeded for the exit, and the rest mobbed the buffet and bar.

Fin shuffled in line past the horseshoe of trestle tables with her paper plate, wondering about the sweaty-looking sausage rolls and opting instead for tuna and sweetcorn sandwiches. Topping up with a number of other offerings which had a relatively fresh appearance to them, she spotted a familiar face over the opposite side of the table. A young man, with an open, friendly face. Who the hell was he? Had he been at Rachel and Dave’s? She didn’t think so. He looked up, saw her, and smiled.

“Hi there! Fancy seeing you here!”

Of
course
, it was Michael, the guy who had enrolled her at Cantlesham Sports Centre. Seeing people out of context, out of their usual environment, can make them hard to place, and anyway it had to be months since she had been to any sort of class – too bloody much going on.

Plates charged, they drifted together for a few words.

“So how’s the Centre? I’m afraid it’s months since I’ve been – spending too much time here,” said Fin.

“Oh, I left. Got a job with Harfordleisure and a flatshare just round the corner. More going on, more opportunity.”

“Yes, I’ll be moving here when I can find a place to live. Most of my friends are here in Harford.”

It struck her with a flash of joy that it was true. She had begun to know people, people who might in the fullness of time become friends. A circle of friends, something she hadn’t experienced since school.

“You heard about Lynn of course? You used to go to all her classes didn’t you?”

“Yes. And no, what’s happened?”

“Up the duff. She resigned – gone back to Nottingham to live with her parents, I think. Shame, she was really popular.”

“It
is
a shame.”

“A shame” didn’t say it. How could that wonderful, talented, lovely-looking girl throw everything away for that bastard in the sports car? How could a girl so smart let it happen?

A long-haired man came up behind Michael, putting one hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t mind if I come and take my friend off you, do you?” he asked with a smile.

Fin was amused to see Michael react with a coquettish tilt of the head. Ah, the boy-friend.

“Go ahead!” she replied, giving Michael a conspiratorial wink, and went to reclaim her bottle of water.

June was sitting on one of the wallflower chairs, eating and sipping a white wine. Fin sat beside her, and touched her arm gently to get her attention.

“June, isn’t it? I’m Fin.”

June laughed.

“Yes, I know, Fin of the bookmarks. Enjoying yourself?”

“Not half. Great party. Loads of interesting people, and so friendly! Ellie’s the only one I know really well, but I guess you know that. I’m told you know everyone and everything.”

June laughed again, a rich, gurgling laugh.

“Nearly.
 
Harford is quite a small city, when it comes down to it, and the university is a hotbed of incestuous gossip – thank the Lord; there’s always something to talk about!”

“Small? Well at least stuff
happens
in Harford – nothing ever does in Cantlesham. I was talking to a guy who’s just moved here – see, him, the short-haired one out of those two together over there – he used to work at the sports centre at Cantlesham. He was telling me my former aerobics instructor had an affair and became pregnant – in Cantlesham, that’s news!”

June turned to her, and put a hand on Fin’s thigh, and exerted slight pressure.

“Harford has more interesting scandals, I grant you,” she said, “Had any luck with a flat yet?”

“No, but I’m one of life’s optimists. Something’ll turn up.”

“Oh, it will, for sure,” smiled June.

The pressure had become an almost imperceptible stroking. Fin concentrated on not being turned on.
 
June was really a very sexy woman.

“How, er, how long have you and the professor been.”

“We’ve been in an on-and-off relationship for ages. She sees other people, and so do I.”