ONE DAY(91)

‘I shouldn’t get too attached.’ Callum shrugged. ‘I think Luiza’s on the way out.’

‘Some things don’t change then.’ A pretty waitress, self-conscious in a mobcap, arrived to top up their glasses. They both grinned at her, caught each other grinning, and tapped their glasses together.

‘Eleven years since we left.’ Dexter shook his head, incredulous. ‘Eleven years. How the f*ck did that happen?’

‘I see Emma Morley’s here,’ said Callum, out of nowhere.

‘I know.’ They glanced over and saw that she was talking to Miffy Buchanan, an old arch-enemy. Even at a distance, they could tell Emma’s teeth were gritted.

‘I’d heard you and Em fell out.’

‘We did.’

‘But you’re alright now?’

‘Not sure. We’ll see.’

‘Great girl, Emma.’

‘She is.’

‘Quite a beauty these days.’

‘She is, she is.’

‘Did you ever . . . ?’

‘No. Nearly. Once or twice.’

‘Nearly?’ sniffs Callum. ‘What does that mean?’

Dexter changed the subject. ‘But you’re alright, yeah?’

Callum took a sip of champagne. ‘Dex, I’m thirty-four. I’ve got a beautiful girlfriend, my own house, my own business, I work hard at something I enjoy, I make enough money.’ He placed his hand on Dexter’s shoulder. ‘And you, you’ve got a show on late-night TV! Life’s been good for all of us.’

And partly from wounded pride, partly from a revived sense of competition, Dexter decided to tell him.

‘So – do you want to hear something funny?’

Emma heard Callum O’Neill whoop from the other side of the Great Lawn and glanced across in time to see him holding Dexter in a head-lock, rubbing his knuckles on Dexter’s scalp. She smiled then turned her full attention back to hating Miffy Buchanan.

‘So I heard you were unemployed,’ she was saying.

‘Well I prefer to think of myself as self-employed.’

‘As a writer?’

‘Just for a year or two, a Sabbatical.’

‘But you haven’t actually had anything published?’

‘Not as yet. Though I have actually been paid a small advance to—’

‘Hm,’ said Miffy, sceptically. ‘Harriet Bowen has had three novels published now.’

‘Yes, I’ve been made aware of that. Several times.’

‘And she’s got three kids.’

‘Well. There you go.’

‘Have you seen my two?’ Nearby two immense toddlers in three-piece suits were rubbing canapés into each other’s faces. ‘IVAN. NO BITING.’

‘They’re lovely boys.’

‘Aren’t they? So have you had any kids yet?’ said Miffy, as if it was an either/or situation, novels or kids.

‘Nope—’

‘Seeing anyone?’

‘Nope—’

‘No-one?’

‘Nope—’

‘Anyone on the horizon?’

‘Nope—’

‘Even so, you look much better than you did.’ Miffy looked her up and down appraisingly, as if contemplating buying her at auction. ‘You’re actually one of the few people here who’s actually lost some weight! I mean you were never massively fat or anything, just puppy-fat, but it’s fallen off you!’

Emma felt her hand tighten around the champagne glass. ‘Well it’s good to know the last eleven years haven’t been wasted.’

‘And you used to have this really strong Northern accent, but now you just talk like everybody else.’

‘Do I?’ Emma said, taken aback. ‘Well, that’s a shame. I didn’t lose it on purpose.’

‘To be honest, I always thought you were putting it on. You know – an affectation—’

‘What?’

‘Your accent. You know – Ay oop! Miners-this, miners-that, Guat-e-mala Ra-ra-ra! I thought you were always rubbing it in everyone’s face a bit. But now you’re talking normally again!’

Emma had always envied those people who spoke their minds, who said what they felt without attention to social nicety. She had never been one of those people, but even so now felt an F-sound forming on her bottom lip.

‘ . . . and you were always so angry about everything all the time.’

‘Oh, I still get angry, Miffy . . .’

‘Oh my God, there’s Dexter Mayhew.’ Miffy was whispering in her ear now, one hand squeezing Emma’s shoulder. ‘Did you know we had a thing once?’

‘Yes, you told me. Many, many times.’

‘He still looks great? Doesn’t he look great?’ and she sighed swooningly. ‘How come you two never got together?’

‘I don’t know: my accent, the puppy-fat? . . .’

‘You weren’t that bad. Hey, have you seen his girlfriend? Isn’t she beautiful? Don’t you think she’s just exquisite?’ and Miffy turned round for a reply, but was surprised to see that Emma had already gone.

The guests were gathering at the marquee now, huddling eagerly around the seating plan as if getting their exam results. Dexter and Emma found each other in the crowd.