Conversations with Friends(37)

You can love more than one person, she said.

That’s arguable.

Why is it any different from having more than one friend? You’re friends with me and you also have other friends, does that mean you don’t really value me?

I don’t have other friends, I said.

She shrugged and took back the bottle of wine. I turned the cup around so nothing would spill from the crack and swallowed two warm mouthfuls.

Did he come on to you? she said.

No. I’m just saying I wouldn’t be interested if he did.

You know, I kissed Melissa once. I never told you about that, did I?

I turned around and stared at her, craning my neck to see her face. She laughed. She was wearing a funny, dreamy expression, which made her look even more attractive than usual.

What? I said. When?

I know, I know. It was at her birthday party, out in the garden. We were both drunk, you were in bed. It was stupid.

She was staring into the bottle of wine. I looked at her face in profile, the strange half-shape of it. She had one tiny cut beside her ear, maybe she’d scratched it, and it was the bright red colour of a flower.

What? she said. Are you judging me?

No, no.

I heard Valerie’s car pull into the driveway outside, and we stashed the bottle of wine under Nick’s pillow. Bobbi linked her arm under mine and gave my cheek a little kiss, which surprised me. Her skin was very soft and her hair smelled of vanilla. I was wrong about Melissa, she said. I swallowed and said: well. We’ve all been wrong about things.





17




We had duck for dinner, with roast baby potatoes and salad. The meat tasted sweet like cider and fell off the bone in dark, buttery shreds. I tried to eat slowly to be polite, but I was hungry and exhausted. The dining room was large, wood-panelled and had a window out onto the rainy street. Valerie spoke with a moneyed British accent, too rich to be comical. She and Derek talked about publishing, and the rest of us were quiet. Valerie thought a lot of people in publishing were charlatans and hacks, but she seemed to find it funny rather than depressing. At one point she removed a smudge from her wine glass with a corner of her napkin and we all watched Melissa’s face, which contracted and fell like a piece of wire spring.

Though Melissa had taken care to introduce us all at the beginning of dinner, Valerie asked which one of us was Bobbi during dessert. When Bobbi identified herself, Valerie replied: oh yes, of course. But a face like that won’t last, I’m afraid. I can tell you that because I’m an old woman now.

Fortunately Bobbi is blessed with more than just good looks, said Evelyn.

Well, marry young, that’s my advice, Valerie said. Men are very fickle.

Cool, said Bobbi. But actually I’m gay.

Melissa flushed and stared into her glass. I pressed my lips together wordlessly. Valerie raised an eyebrow and pointed her fork between Bobbi and myself.

I see, Valerie said. And are you two …?

Oh no, said Bobbi. Once, but no.

No, I suppose not, Valerie said.

Bobbi and I glanced at one another and looked away so as not to laugh or scream.

Frances is a writer, Evelyn said.

Well, kind of, I said.

Don’t say kind of, said Melissa. She’s a poet.

Is she any good? Valerie said.

She had not looked up at me during this exchange.

She is good, said Melissa.

Oh well, Valerie said. I’ve always thought poetry rather lacks a future.

As an amateur without a real opinion on the future of poetry, and because Valerie hadn’t appeared to notice my presence anyway, I said nothing. Bobbi stepped on my toe under the table and coughed. After dessert, Nick went to the kitchen to make coffee, and as soon as he left, Valerie put down her fork and peered at the closed door.

He doesn’t look very well, does he? she said. How has his health been?

I stared at her. She had not addressed a single comment or question to me directly, and I knew she would pretend not to notice I was looking.

Up and down, said Melissa. He was great for a while but I think he had a bit of an episode last month. Over in Edinburgh.

Well, he had pneumonia, Evelyn said.

It wasn’t just pneumonia, said Melissa.

It’s a shame, Valerie said. But he’s very passive really. He lets himself get overwhelmed by these things. You remember last year.

We don’t need to drag the girls through all this, do we? Evelyn said.

There’s no need to be secretive, said Valerie. We’re all friends here. Nick suffers from depression, I’m afraid.

Yes, I said. I know.

Melissa looked up at me and I ignored her. Valerie looked at the floral arrangement and distractedly moved one blossom slightly to the left.

You’re a friend of his, are you, Frances? Valerie said.

I thought we were all friends here, I said.

Finally she looked at me. She was wearing some artistic brown resin jewellery and had handsome rings on her fingers.

Well, I know he wouldn’t mind me asking after his health, said Valerie.

Then maybe you can ask after it when he’s actually in the room, I said.

Frances, Melissa said. Valerie is a very old friend of ours.

Valerie laughed and said: please, Melissa, I’m not that old, am I? My jaw was trembling. I pushed my seat back from the table and excused myself from the room. Evelyn and Bobbi watched me go, like little nodding dogs in the back window of a disappearing car. Nick was in the hallway bringing in two cups of coffee. Hello, he said. Oh, what’s happened? I shook my head and shrugged, silly gestures that meant nothing. I walked past him, down the back staircase and into the garden. I didn’t hear him follow me, I supposed he had gone into the dining room with the others.