When they did steal looks at Laurie, it was with a nervous incredulousness. How was this possible, that she could survive being thrown over by Dan for a woman now bearing his child, and consent to come to the same party, and have a dashing younger man in tow? Had she made a pact with an old washerwoman that would see her teeth fall out on the stroke of a fairytale midnight?
Laurie remembered coming to dinner parties here and she and Dan putting effort into being a funny charming double act. It was an aspect of being in a couple you never talked about, the way you developed a you-wash-and-I’ll-dry persona for public consumption.
That’s why the schadenfreude had been so strong when they split. There were couples here that got gossiped about after they left, speculation on why he spoke so harshly to her, why she drank so hard, whether the au pair was too pretty to be a good idea.
But Dan and Laurie were being groomed to join the upper ranks, as proven by Dan being asked to man the barbecue of a weekend with Phil, or Laurie making it into baby shower WhatsApp groups, despite having no baby to contribute.
‘They like the quota filling of having another ethnic face in the gang, you and Pri are great for the photos,’ Dan used to guffaw, while Laurie bashed him with a cushion in mock outrage.
But you know, he might not be totally wrong. There was a really nice woman called Maya who ran a local vegan café who was a single mother, and very large, and Claire had made disparaging remarks about I know I shouldn’t say this, but what can she eat that puts weight on?! And Maya never scored invites.
‘How did you two meet?’ Erica was asking, and Jamie was deftly retelling the lift story.
When he excused himself to the toilet, both Erica and Pri breathed: ‘Oh my God, Laurie. What a catch.’
‘Ah, he’s alright.’
‘He’s gorgeous,’ Pri sighed, reverentially.
Laurie should be feeling some ignoble glory but her overriding feeling was, this is bollocks. It’s ALL bollocks. Not purely because Jamie was a stunt man, an actor, but she saw it for what it was. When she had Dan, she fitted, she was accepted. He left her, and she was unclean, cast out, othered.
Now she sashayed back with another presentable member of the opposite sex, and her status had shot up again. None of it was to do with who Laurie was, anything she had to say for herself.
If your value was dependent on these things, you had none.
‘I’m so so sorry about the WhatsApp group,’ Erica said, having possibly had enough alcohol now to broach it. Both she and Pri looked at their shoes.
‘I don’t mind. Talking about people you know is natural, isn’t it,’ Laurie said. Then, in case they thought she was going to be nothing but magnanimous, added, ‘Claire doesn’t like other women though, from what I can tell. So good luck with her continued friendship if either of your partners leave you.’
Their heads snapped up and their mouths fell open.
‘If you’ll excuse me, I think Jamie needs some rescuing over there.’
Had walking away ever felt this good? As Laurie crossed the kitchen to join Jamie in another group, she knew this was probably the last time she’d spend time with these people, and realised that it finally felt OK. She was more than these people said she was – if breaking up with Dan was the catalyst for giving fewer fucks about other people’s opinions and reminding herself who she was without him, well, perhaps it had almost been worth it.
Perhaps, in their relationship, she had lost herself a little bit.
Jamie was politely discussing the merits of turning forty with Ecru Poloneck Courgette Guy (and Laurie was counting the minutes until it was safe to politely leave), when a chilling scream went up from the direction of the Belfast sink with the boiling water tap. Laurie spent a second wondering why red wine was spurting out of Phil’s arm like a geyser, before realising it was his blood. A jagged shard of wine bottle stuck proud out of the sink, like a shark’s fin.
While everyone else was frozen, Jamie grabbed a tea towel, Laurie glancing at him in surprise.
‘Here, mate. You’re going to be fine.’ Calmly, authoritatively and with great speed, Jamie tied it round Phil’s arm as a tourniquet, the blood instantly staining it rich crimson. Phil slumped forward and Jamie caught him, with some effort, as Phil was north of six foot.
‘Oh my God oh my God he’s passed out?!’ Claire wailed. ‘Due to blood loss?!’
‘He’s fainted at the sight of the blood, and who can blame him, to be fair,’ Jamie said, lowering Phil to the ground and carefully manoeuvring his head forward, both hands smeared with the overflow. Claire crouched down, putting an arm round her husband, whimpering.
‘Phil! Phil? Can you hear me?’
‘He needs to go to hospital, I think he might’ve cut an artery. It’s Saturday night and I don’t know how fast the ambulance will be, versus taking him there ourselves. You got a car I could drive?’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve only had half a beer.’
A sheet-white Claire nodded and fumbled keys out of her handbag.
‘Thanks. Can I get some help putting him into it?’
It was a confronting situation, and only a minute or two had elapsed, but Laurie still couldn’t help notice that their closest mates were spectating and letting unknown plus-one guy Jamie do the heavy lifting, literally and figuratively.
Dan darted over to the semi-conscious Phil’s side and helped heave him to his feet. Laurie had an ungenerous moment of wondering if it was an authentic urge to help or if he’d had enough of Jamie being first responder.
‘Are you a doctor?’ said a posh, thin man in spectacles, to Jamie, in a tone of challenge as much as any admiration.
‘No, I did a first-aid course at cub scouts,’ Jamie said, and Laurie couldn’t tell if he was being funny or not.
Outside, Dan helped heft the bloodied Phil into the backseat of a BMW, next to Claire, while Jamie in the front jammed the key in the ignition and adjusted the mirror. Laurie got in the passenger side.
‘I didn’t think you were coming today,’ Dan said to her, as he closed the back passenger side door and peered in at her, as they prepared to drive off.
‘Yeah, I heard – you didn’t think Jamie would be up to it, or something?’
Dan had no comeback but to stare blankly, and she slammed the door. They pulled out of the drive and into the evening traffic.
‘We’ll be at the Royal in no time,’ Jamie said, ‘How’s he doing back there?’ Claire had reached the tearful stage and merely whimpered.
‘Hey, hey,’ Jamie soothed. ‘This is a few stitches and good as new. It’s frightening to see blood, that’s all.’
Claire nodded. Phil was a sickly beige colour and not fully with it, which Laurie judged maybe a good thing. She wouldn’t want to be there when they unwound the tea towel.
At A&E he got rushed straight through and Laurie and Jamie were left in their party clothes, under bright lights, surrounded by people with sections of their anatomy leaking or bandaged, a baby crying on the other side of the room.
‘Fresh air?’ Jamie said, and Laurie nodded. ‘Let me wash this off and I’ll meet you out front.’
‘Well, that was the most dramatic way to get out of cooking fifty burgers I’ve ever seen,’ Jamie said, joining her five minutes later, a few rusty specks on his sleeves and a massive Nike swoosh across the front as trophy of the evening’s unexpected turn.