The Friends We Keep(96)

“She’ll kill you harder if you don’t come home at all,” said Evvie with a giggle.

James paused, then rang the doorbell. Silence.

“Why isn’t your dog barking?” said Maggie.

“We don’t have a dog,” he said, and they started laughing again.

“Try again,” she said.

“It’s freezing!” Evvie called out, huddling with Topher. “I need to get into bed. I might need to throw up first.”

Topher quickly moved away from her.

“I was kidding!” she said.

“Emily’s asleep.” James suddenly looked very worried, very drunk, and very young. “I could sleep in my car.”

“I don’t think a Tesla would be very comfortable to sleep in.” Maggie turned and stared at the charcoal-gray car in the driveway. “You can come and stay at ours. We have lots of room. But you can’t sneak into Evvie’s room.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you. I should text my wife and tell her.” He patted his jacket again. “Oh shit. I left my phone in the pub.”

“You can e-mail her from mine. Come on. Let’s go home.”





forty-three


- 2019 -



Maggie woke up first with a pounding headache. She remembered to drink a whole bottle of water before she went to bed. It was an old trick from her youth—match the amount of alcohol drunk with water, and you would be fine. She had no idea how much alcohol she had drunk, but a bottle of water ought to do it, she thought last night.

She crawled out of bed and downed three Nurofen Plus, realizing that she was far from fine, then got back into bed to wait for the headache to subside. A short while later, she heard banging on the front door, which continued on and off for a good five minutes. Eventually, Maggie heard Emily’s voice calling through the letterbox.

“James? James? Are you in there?”

Maggie cast her mind back to last night with some difficulty, before remembering that James was in fact there, and that she must be the only one awake, given the continued banging at the door.

She was still in the same clothes as last night, she realized as she made her way out of the bedroom.

Topher was emerging from his room as well, holding his head. “Who the fuck is banging on the door?” he groaned.

“I think that’s Emily, James’s wife. Where did he sleep?”

Topher paused. “He’s either on the giant sofa in the den, or in Evvie’s bed.”

“Are you serious?” hissed Maggie, unwilling to open the door to his wife.

“No, I’m not serious. He’s on the sofa. I think.”

“Can you go?”

“No,” said Topher, backing into his room and closing the door.

Maggie went downstairs and peered into the den, where she saw James, fast asleep on the sofa, covered by one of her cashmere throws. Well thank God for that, she thought, going back to the entrance hall and opening the door to find a very angry Emily in large sunglasses and a fur-trimmed parka.

“Hi, Emily,” said Maggie. “I’m guessing you’re looking for James?”

“Yes, I’m looking for James. What the fuck is he doing here?” Emily looked Maggie up and down, noting her new hair color, the flush in her cheeks. She was clearly furious, her voice loud as Maggie squinted in pain, massaging her left temple.

“It’s nice to see you as well, Emily. Would you mind keeping your voice down? Bit of a headache. And if I recall correctly, he left his keys at home, and his phone in the pub. We did try to wake you but we didn’t know what else to do. I’m sure . . .”

“Where is he?” Emily cut her off as Maggie realized she didn’t believe her.

For all she knew, James spent the night with Maggie, which must have been why she was giving her the dagger glares. Maggie said nothing, just led Emily to the den and watched as she tried to prod James awake.

“Get up!” Emily hissed. “James! Wake up! Oh, for Christ’s sake.” She stopped shaking him as tears suddenly sprang into her eyes.

“Why don’t you come into the kitchen for a minute. I was just about to make tea,” Maggie lied, concerned that if she didn’t get Emily away from her husband, she might physically hurt him.

Emily paused, blinking at Maggie before looking at her husband.

“Give him ten minutes or so and he’ll wake up. Let’s go in here.” Maggie placed a hand on Emily’s arm, amazed as she meekly followed her into the kitchen.

Maggie made the tea as Emily sat at the kitchen table, staring mutely out the window. She brought the cups over to the table, sliding the sugar bowl and milk over to Emily, who added a splash of milk and took a sip.

“I’m sorry,” she said eventually. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s fine. You must have been worried sick.”

The tears sprang back into Emily’s eyes. “It’s not . . . I mean. Yes. I was worried. I didn’t know where he was sleeping . . .”

“I understand,” Maggie said gently. “I would have had exactly the same reaction.”

There was a silence as Emily appeared to be blinking back tears. “Do you think maybe we can let bygones be bygones? Things got weird between us with the trees, and now I wish we could just all be friends.”