The Friends We Keep(75)

Victoria’s face lit up. “That’s what I thought. It’s very Downton Abbey.”

“Indeed,” said Topher. “Victoria, if you’ll excuse us, we have to go and find drinks.”

“Make sure you come back and we get some proper chatting time! It was so great to see you.” Topher already had an arm around the waists of both Evvie and Maggie as he steered them away.

“I hate to say this,” Maggie whispered as they walked off, “but who in the hell was that?”

“You don’t want to remember,” said Topher, looking at Evvie. “Catpuccino anyone?”

“Oh my God! That roommate! Now I remember!” Maggie began laughing, realizing with a start that she was feeling something she hadn’t felt in years. Happy.

“Fuck, I think I hate reunions,” said Topher, looking around the room. “I mean, this is the only one I’ve ever been to. But this all feels desperately sad. I have a terrible memory, and nobody here looks the slightest bit familiar. And I don’t want to be accosted by any more people like that Catpuccino girl. Also, this swirly carpet is depressing me.”

“Oh, stop,” said Evvie. “So it’s not the Four Seasons. Get over it. We don’t have to stay all night, but at least this got the three of us together. Let’s go find drinks.”

“But that’s my point. Everyone else is irrelevant. We should go and find somewhere lovely to have drinks where we don’t have to make small talk with people we don’t remember.”

“We can’t leave immediately. But I would be willing to leave in an hour,” Maggie demurred, ever the proper girl her mother raised.

“How about half an hour?”

“Forty-five minutes?” Maggie grinned. “I had forgotten how difficult you are.”

“I’m not difficult, I’m wonderful. I just don’t see the point in making small talk with people I haven’t seen in thirty years. There’s a reason I haven’t seen them in thirty years.”

“You’ve barely seen us in thirty years,” said Maggie.

“That’s different,” Topher said. “And you know it.”

“Let’s just make a little bit of small talk, and we’ll leave as soon as we can.”





thirty-three


- 2019 -



Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in a tiny, candlelit bistro off Kensington High Street. Wooden pews as seats and the dark lighting made it cozy, although, as Topher put it, “cozy in a very nineteen eighties kind of way.” They all declared it perfect, then, for their reunion night.

“I couldn’t handle it,” said Maggie, after ordering a gin and tonic. “Other than you lot, I didn’t even remember anyone.”

“I feel the same. Isn’t that awful? Although did you see Julian Maple?” Evvie asked.

Maggie frowned. “Julian Maple who you had that terrible one-night stand with?”

“Yes! Julian Maple who was ridiculously good-looking even though he was a bit of an ass.”

“I didn’t see him,” said Maggie. “How did I miss him?”

“You wouldn’t have recognized him. I did a double take when I saw his name tag.”

“What does he look like?”

“Nothing like he used to. Kind of doughy and dull.”

“Everyone looked like that to me,” said Topher. “Is that awful? It just . . . God, it wasn’t exactly a glamorous reunion.”

“It wasn’t exactly a glamorous university,” Evvie reminded them with a laugh. “Other than the English and drama departments, it was all a bit sad.”

“The science department was good,” Maggie said quickly, and they all nodded, embarrassed, remembering Ben, before Maggie sighed. “But do we look like the rest of those people? Because the thing that horrified me most was that half of them looked my mother’s age. We don’t look like that, do we?”

“I hope I don’t look like that,” said Topher. “Or my dermatologist is getting fired.”

“Dermatologist? What do you need a dermatologist for?” asked Maggie.

“It’s a New York thing,” explained Evvie. “Most of the women our age are doing fillers, Botox, other stuff to make them look young.”

“No wonder you look so good,” said Maggie.

“I did all that when I was married. My husband insisted.” She made a face, a frown with some real bitterness behind it. “I haven’t touched it since. This”—she craned her chin out and stroked her skin—“is all courtesy of my Jamaican mother, and weight gain. My grandmother died at ninety-six and I swear, she looked sixty-five. She also always said that extra weight made your skin better as you got older.”

The waitress came over and took their order.

“Fondue!” Maggie shook her head as she left. “I haven’t had fondue since a school skiing trip. This feels rather decadent.”

“It’s lovely.” Evvie relaxed. “I can’t believe how lovely it is being all together again. I can’t believe how it’s as if nothing has changed. Honestly, I was nervous about seeing you all. I thought, what if we have nothing in common anymore? But I feel as relaxed and comfortable with you both as I always did.”