The Last Anniversary - Page 81


Deborah wails, ‘Then why did you say it? Last night? Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!’

Sophie thinks, oh my goodness, he didn’t! (Although it’s hard not to feel flattered.)

Thomas looks like a man who has been kicked in the kidneys. ‘This is excruciatingly embarrassing.’

‘I don’t care if it’s embarrassing. You still love her! You said her name when we were making love! That’s what’s known as a Freudian slip, and Freudian slips mean that’s what you really think deep down in your superego or something!’

‘Deborah,’ says Sophie earnestly, lovingly. Poor Deborah! Poor, sweet, travel-agent Deborah! ‘The thing is, Thomas and I weren’t at all compatible. We had a terrible sex life! Terrible!’

‘Oh, God, you’re both drunk,’ says Thomas.

‘And you’ve got such a beautiful baby girl!’ cries Sophie, gesturing lavishly at Lily.

‘Don’t you bring Lily into it!’ says Deborah fiercely.

‘Oh, well, I just meant–’

‘I know exactly what you meant!’

Sophie isn’t sure that she likes Deborah’s tone. She was just trying to be nice. She tries to think of something devastatingly clever to say about Deborah’s grasp of Freudian theories but she can’t quite remember anything about Freudian theories herself, even though she got a high distinction on an essay on the subject at uni.

But then they’re interrupted. ‘Sophie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

It’s Ian the Sweet Solicitor, and he’s perfect. He’s dressed in a casual, stylish-but-not-too-stylish suede jacket and black jeans. He looks tall and funny and gently intellectual. Sophie cannot think what her problem has been. This is the man she will sleep with tonight. This is the man who she will have a mature relationship with over the next few months, including weekend getaways, possibly a trip to Europe, champagne brunches with friends, dinners with parents, lots of sophisticated sex in his luxury apartment, followed by one of those elegant barefoot weddings on the beach, and she’ll be pregnant with her own Lily-baby just in time for her fortieth birthday.

‘Have you two met Ian?’ asks Sophie, all tasteful conviviality. She pats Ian’s arm possessively to make it very clear in an entirely subtle way that they are an item. ‘Aunt Connie’s solicitor?’

‘Yeah, hi, Ian! We’ve met! How are you?’ Thomas pumps Ian’s hand, looking at him meaningfully as if to say, I’ve been taken hostage by these two women, save me!

‘Do you practise divorce law by any chance, Ian?’ Deborah gives a tinkling laugh. ‘I’m just wondering, that’s all. No particular reason, except that last night my husband and I were–’

‘I think it’s time we found ourselves a good strong cup of coffee.’ Thomas takes a firm hold of her elbow. ‘Come on, Deborah.’

‘Oh, well done, you remembered your wife’s name! Did you have to really concentrate?’

But she allows herself to be led away, with Thomas pushing the stroller and Lily beaming and waving a chubby hand, ‘Bye, bye! Bye, bye!’ as though she’s as desperate to get away as her father.

Ian watches them go and shakes his head. ‘Ah, it brings back so many happy memories of married life.’

Sophie chuckles lightly in a way that indicates it will obviously be very different when they’re married, and says, ‘How have you been since I saw you last?’

Ian turns to her. His eyes are shining with a frightening new evangelical zeal. ‘Well, actually, a lot’s changed since I saw you last!’

Religion? Acupuncture? Hatha yoga? The Atkins diet? Whatever it is, she can sense the approach of a nasty sandstorm about to blast through her beach wedding.

‘And it’s all thanks to something you said when we went out the other night, when you were talking about seizing the day.’

Sophie stares at him. ‘I have never in my life used the words “Seize the day”.’

‘OK, well maybe not those words, but you certainly talked about the principle of it. Anyway, it’s all thanks to you, I’m giving up law and I’m moving to New Zealand to be a white-water-rafting instructor!’

Grace and Aunt Rose are packing up their face-painting equipment. They both agree that they must have surely painted the face of every child on the island and that it gets more tiring every year and next year they really should get some help. Aunt Rose is going off now to sit in the tent with Grandma Enigma and Grace is going to get them both something to eat.

Grace helps Aunt Rose to her feet and feels the delicate bird-like bones in her arm.

‘Oooh, I’m an old fogy, darling, aren’t I?’ Rose winces and clutches at her back. ‘I look in the mirror sometimes and I think, “Who is that old woman?” I never thought I’d be this old. Connie and I used to laugh at the thought of us as little old ladies and we’d pretend to hobble around on our walking sticks, and now look, I actually have one and it’s not just for show, I need it!’

Grace just smiles. ‘I’ll see you at Grandma Enigma’s tent. Just a cup of tea?’

‘Yes, and maybe a piece of angel cake. It won’t be as good as Connie’s but at least they’re following her recipe.’

Rose walks off through the crowd. From behind, in her long, black coat, with her hair hidden by her hat, she doesn’t really look that old at all. She might need the walking stick but she hasn’t lost the gliding ballerina walk that Grace remembers from her youth.

Grace pulls the note Margie left for her from her jeans pocket.

Darling, I’ve double-checked re the Anniversary menu and just wanted to remind you that you’re fine to eat everything on the menu EXCEPT for the SATAY STICKS (well that’s a pretty obvious one!!), those tiny parmesan biscuits (lethal sesame seeds!) and the SAMOSAS (walnuts, if you can believe it!). Have fun, I hope Grandma Enigma manages the baby OK while you’re doing the face-painting. Don’t tire yourself out! Love from your Aunt Margie xx

PS. I know this is so annoying of me but I can’t help it. I just wanted to suggest that perhaps Jake could wear that little red hat I gave you–it will keep his little ears lovely and warm. I know! I’m sorry! Deborah nearly snapped my head off when I suggested Lily wear her one–so SNAP MY HEAD OFF if you like! (But I know you won’t!) Can’t wait to tell you all about my Weight Watchers ‘party’ which I’ve been so secretive about–it will give you all a good laugh, that’s for sure.

Tags: Liane Moriarty Suspense
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