The Friends We Keep(54)

Maggie hadn’t told Ben. She did the research by herself, finding a feng shui expert, and soon their bed was moved across the room, with various mirrors and crystals hanging from windows. It hadn’t worked.

She got up, turned on the shower, and went to wake Ben. “We’ve got the birthday party in half an hour,” she said, finally managing to wake him. “We can be a bit late, but we have to be there.”

“Did you finish the cake for them?”

Maggie thought of the Barney dinosaur cake she had made for Emily and James Sullivan’s baby, who, at a year old, went nowhere without her soft Barney toy. Maggie had made a chocolate cake glazed with a dark chocolate ganache, topped with a Barney dinosaur romping through a field of candied violets. It was beautiful enough for the adults to swoon, and Coco would love the Barney on the top. Everyone would be happy.

“Cake is ready, and I made tiny Barney cupcakes as well. Come on. Time to get up and jump in the shower.”

“Did you enjoy that?” Ben said suddenly. “Our . . . session.”

“Our session?!” Maggie burst out. “Do you mean sex?” Maggie started laughing. “Did you?”

He shrugged. “I miss you,” he said, his face now serious. “I mean, it was fine, but I miss us kissing. Taking our time. It’s always a quickie these days, and it always feels like . . .” He sighed. “I don’t know. It feels like it’s a job.”

“It won’t be like this forever.” Maggie planted a kiss on his nose. “I’m feeling really good this month. The fact that we’ve both given up coffee is going to boost our fertility. I can feel it.”

“I hope you’re right.” Ben pulled her down for a deeper kiss, but Maggie pulled away.

“Not now!” She got up, slapping his hand away with a smile as she headed to the bathroom. “We’ve got a party to go to.”



* * *



? ? ?

It’s amazing!” Emily flung her arms around Maggie when she saw the cakes. “And cupcakes too! Maggie! You’re fantastic!”

Her mummy friends crowded around, oohing and aahing at the gorgeous cakes. “Would you make a cake for me?” said one. “That’s so much better than the one I had,” said another, who seemed aggrieved about it. “Can we have your number?” one said to Maggie.

“How the hell do you have time to make cakes like this?” said another.

“No children,” Emily explained, before Maggie had a chance to say anything. “No sleepless nights. No small creatures pulling on you all the time.”

“Oh my God!” said the woman who had asked how she had the time. “No wonder! We would all be making cakes like that if we didn’t have children!”

Maggie smiled a stiff smile, wishing she could crawl into a hole. She felt deficient enough already, the only woman her age at these kinds of parties who didn’t have children. The last thing she needed was for anyone to point it out publicly. Even though she knew Emily didn’t mean to intentionally shame her, that was nevertheless how she felt. She excused herself and went outside to the garden, where a bar had been set up to serve the adults. Maggie walked past the fathers, gathered around with beers in hand, and went to the bar to take a Pimm’s. She wouldn’t ordinarily drink in the afternoon. She wouldn’t ordinarily drink if Ben was around, saving her white wine spritzers for nights out with the girls, but after that conversation, she needed a drink.

She downed half on her first swig, and finished the drink by her fourth.

“Another Pimm’s?” The bartender grinned. “You look like you needed that.”

“Yes please,” she said, wondering how quickly she could leave. She saw Ben on the other side of the garden, deep in conversation with one of the dads.

What she didn’t notice, however, was his hand behind his back, hiding his third can of beer.





twenty-four


- 2008 -



Evvie was lying in bed leafing through magazines when Lance came in from the bathroom. She pretended to immerse herself in her magazine, not wanting to look up and meet his eye, very aware that after four years, the honeymoon period was definitely over. Recently he had started looking her up and down when she was naked, or in her underwear, a look that seemed suspiciously like disdain, which had begun making her self-conscious and nervous.

It had to be about her weight. Admittedly she had put on weight recently, but isn’t that what’s supposed to happen when you’re forty and—finally—happy? She believed Lance loved her; she believed that their marriage was real, based on friendship and trust, that she could finally relax and start enjoying herself a little.

If that meant eating dessert, or allowing herself to have cake when she met friends for tea, or having a late-night bowl of cereal topped with yogurt, honey, and nuts while watching a movie, so what? Isn’t that what normal people did? Isn’t that how normal people ate? If it meant she had taught their cook how to make jerk chicken, coco bread, and patties, what was wrong with that? Normal people ate patties and dumplings in between meals, surely?

That Evvie had no idea how normal people ate didn’t occur to her. Her entire life had been spent either overeating or restricting. Twenty-odd years of crazy dieting for her modeling career had taken their toll, and the pendulum now seemed to be swinging the other way. Judging from Lance’s recent passive-aggressive comments, it was beginning to show.