I looked over at them, and in a voice that matched hers, said, ‘Yes, I asked Sam if I could bring him.’ I gave her a sideways glance, feeling uncomfortable as my suspicions were confirmed – Helen was pissed off with me.
She raised her head in a half nod. I didn’t know where to take this, so just started talking, hoping she’d thaw.
‘James and I… we got chatting, at the wedding and he… we went for dinner…’ I offered, like it was an apology. Why did I feel the need to do this? I’d been so looking forward to telling her all about going out with James, I felt cheated, like I was defending myself against some kind of judgement I didn’t understand.
‘Oh, I see,’ she said, lifting the champagne bottle from the bucket. I noticed she was chewing her lip, something Helen always did when she wasn’t comfortable. I remembered her doing this when one of the mums at school said she’d seen Kate smoking weed. It’s one of the few times I ever saw Helen speechless and unable to cope with something she didn’t want to face – like now.
I had to get to the bottom of this. ‘I thought you liked James, you and Tim,’ I said, still under my breath. ‘Didn’t you used to go out with James and his wife?’
‘Yeah,’ she replied, then turned to look at me. ‘She was lovely…’ And there it was, whatever it was, I hadn’t been paranoid, Helen had a problem with me bringing James – and now it was hanging in the air.
‘Are you annoyed that I brought him?’ I murmured.
‘No, oh no, no, no,’ she said too many times, while reapplying that big, beaming smile.
‘It’s just… you seem, a bit pissed off?’
‘Oh I’m sorry, George, just bloody exhausted from travelling… no, it’s all good – all good,’ she said, putting her free arm around me in a quick hug. Then she returned to the champagne. ‘Come on, everyone, we have something to celebrate,’ she said, ‘the Jacksons and the Moores are finally family – to the Jackmoores!’ She popped the cork and gave the bottle to Tim to pour, while she handed round the glasses, and I joined in smiling. But even as we raised our glasses to ‘the happy couple’, I was aware of her displeasure, an intangible thing I could see but couldn’t fathom as it strung through the trees like fairy lights.
Chapter Four
Dusk and woodsmoke filled the air, the champagne bottle now empty, the barbecue cooling, napkins scattered on the table. Another celebration of our children’s union, another celebration of us and, when I look back now and think about our friendship, it’s evenings like this I remember. Our children were happy, everyone was well and life was good – or so we thought. I often wonder if I’d known then what I know now, could I have saved Lauren? But back then I had no idea that the gathering of old friends, the scent of jasmine clouding the dusk and tea lights flickering in jars were just dressing. If only I’d looked closer at that perfect summer scene and glimpsed what loitered in the shadows, watching and waiting.
As night came down like a blanket, the stars shivered, the drinks flowed, and Helen returned to her old self. The family dynamic seemed to have found itself again, as Tim played host and Helen giggled like a schoolgirl while the rest of the cast fell into their roles. Despite being sober, I started to enjoy myself. Sam and James were getting along, laughing too loudly, fuelled by beer and bonhomie. Kate, as usual, sat alone, gazing ahead, always around us, always quiet, but always listening too. She wore headphones, apparently listening to music, but was quick to comment if someone addressed her, or her name was mentioned. Sometimes Kate made me feel quite uneasy. But that was just Kate – she was nothing like Lauren. Or Helen for that matter.
When Sam lit a small fire, everyone sat in a circle, chatting and drinking.
‘That’s something we need,’ Lauren suddenly said, ‘a decent firepit.’
‘I made it,’ Sam said, ‘it is decent.’ He snapped, clearly taking offence at her remark. Without looking at her, he took an angry swig from his beer bottle.
‘It looks like shit though,’ Lauren replied under her breath, but as I was sitting next to her, I heard it.
‘Don’t start, Lauren,’ Sam replied wearily.
I looked around to see if anyone else was seeing this, but the others were caught up in their own conversations. I shifted uneasily in my chair and told myself this was nothing, all couples argue, but Sam wasn’t letting this go. He never knew when to let go, always wound himself up and had to have the last word. I know it’s hard to be objective about our children, but I never believed Sam had anger issues like his father; I put his ‘passion’ down to a strong sense of fairness. If he felt something was unjust, that someone wasn’t being treated correctly, it made him angry. And now, I felt his hurt, and in my view, he was justified in his resentment of Lauren’s criticism. I knew he’d worked hard to make that firepit, and was proud of what he’d done, so it must have hurt keenly for his wife to condemn it in that way.
‘Why don’t you get Mummy and Daddy to buy you a shiny new firepit,’ he hissed.
Lauren shook her head, like she didn’t want him to say anything else.
‘I don’t believe you,’ he said, still quietly, but slurring slightly as the beer had taken over. ‘You always run to them with your problems, and having the wrong firepit is obviously eating away at you.’ Then he leaned in and said something in her ear that I didn’t hear, but clearly made her uncomfortable, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
I took a sip of Coke to swallow my feelings. I was almost scared for them. This wasn’t about a firepit, but about something far deeper. And the tension continued to shimmer over the fire, as Lauren gazed into it.
I didn’t want to catch anyone’s eye and get caught up in this, so turned to look into the flames. Through the smoke, I could see to the other side of the garden, where Sadie was talking to Tim, who nodded slowly as she talked; it looked to me like she was giving him instructions and he was just agreeing to them. I didn’t know her very well, but I always felt that Sadie could be quite controlling, manipulative even, like she still hadn’t got enough from them. I sometimes wondered if she really appreciated what they’d done for her. Did she realise the sacrifices they’d made to send her to university along with their own daughter? They didn’t have to do that, they were good people, but Sadie was a survivor, and sometimes good people get taken advantage of by the Sadie’s of the world.
I kept glancing over at Sam and Lauren. But they hadn’t spoken since the flare-up a few minutes before, and I was glad when Helen joined me; I wanted to chat and take my mind off things. But she didn’t seem to want to talk, so we just sat side by side watching the flames while Sam and James talked about football.
‘You okay?’ I asked Helen quietly.
‘Yeah… it’s just…’
‘What?’ I said, keen to know, assuming she was about to explain the weirdness earlier.
‘Well, it’s just… oh nothing.’ She closed off, which wasn’t like her.
‘No, go on, what were you going to say?’ I pressed.
‘Oh… just… just that I can’t see our grandchildren playing in this garden.’ She turned to me, raised her eyebrows and sat back. That wasn’t what she was going to say – why was she being like this?