‘She’s right. It’s too rowdy,’ cried Jodie, her hands over her ears. ‘Put on the Justin Timberlake, then we can dance.’
He huffed and tutted, but changed the CD.
‘How about a dance, Alice?’ he goaded as the music started. ‘Going to show us what you’re made of?’
‘Yeah – okay, if you ask nicely.’
Jodie and Mark looked at each other as if I’d just beamed down from Mars. I led them into the sitting room, pushed the ‘comfy’ chairs aside and began by letting my body move with the rhythm. Fortunately, I knew some of the tracks. Mark joined me, finding it all very entertaining and Jodie twirled beside us, not quite sure what to make of the situation. I knew they’d expected me to bottle out, to make an excuse and run for cover. It was gratifying to be a different person from the one they remembered.
The CD ended and we all piled onto the sofa. It was made for two, so I ended up on Mark’s lap. He dug his fingers into my ribs and I giggled helplessly and rolled onto the floor. The tickling match turned into a cushion fight until suddenly there was a flurry of white feathers everywhere.
‘Oh, bugger!’ shouted Mark.
‘There’s a snowstorm inside!’ shrieked Jodie, batting the feathers with the palm of her hand as they fell.
I grabbed the cushion that had exploded and held it to my chest. ‘Okay, guys – party’s over. We’ve got to get this cleared up before Karen comes back.’
No one kicked up a fuss. Mark brought up the vacuum cleaner from the cellar, Jodie picked up what she could by hand from ledges and alcoves and I began stuffing handfuls back inside the cushion. Jodie had brought a sewing kit, so I threaded a needle and started mending the tear.
‘No one will ever know,’ I declared, pressing the sealed cushion back into the corner of the sofa.
‘Why don’t I go out and get fairy lights?’ Mark suggested. ‘We passed a shop that sells everything in the village.’
‘What – in this weather?’ said Jodie.
‘I don’t mind the walk – it’s only three miles and I can probably thumb a lift.’
‘Okay – I’ll come with you,’ said Jodie, getting up.
‘No – there’s no need for both of us to get frozen. You stay cosy by the fire.’
‘He’s been like this lately,’ she said, addressing me as if he wasn’t there. ‘He can’t settle. He’s got so much energy, he can’t sit still.’
She spoke about him like he was a toddler. Energy perhaps, I thought, but it looked to me more like nervous agitation. I’d seen it the previous night at supper. As if something was pursuing him and he was trying to escape.
He left and Jodie joined me in the kitchen while I washed up the breakfast dishes. She didn’t offer, so I put a tea towel in her hand and told her where the crockery was stacked.
One of her false nails had split and I noticed her own underneath were bitten down to the quick. I didn’t remember her biting her nails. Maybe she didn’t think it mattered now she wore false ones all the time.
‘You’ve changed, you know?’ she said.
‘I had a lot of growing up to do after University,’ I replied. ‘Still have.’
She took hold of my soapy hand and turned it over. ‘No more eczema?’
‘Good isn’t it?’ I said. ‘I finally got rid of it after I started meditation, two years ago.’ I’d had a severe case of it on my face and hands since the age of about three. I was one of those over-sensitive children; upset by loud noises and arguments, allergic to soaps and creams, nervous and delicate, made of matchsticks. Mum put it down to being a premature baby and Dad said I’d been born with a ‘fragile disposition’. For me, it meant I was the one people stared at. As if I wasn’t hampered enough at Uni, the crimson blotches made me feel like a leper.
I saw her glance at the clock and, with her back to me, she delved into her handbag on the table, snatching at a blister-pack of capsules. In the process, a pencil fell to the floor and rolled towards my slipper. As I handed it to her, I spotted the name on the foil. They were the same anti-depressants my GP had given me, together with the sleeping tablets, after I was mugged. I’d hated taking them – they made me feel spaced out and numb all the time. I’d stopped a few weeks ago and had refused to bring them with me.
I turned away like I hadn’t seen.
Karen still hadn’t returned when Mark came back, at lunchtime.
‘Where are the lights?’ Jodie called out from our cosy spot by the fire. He stood in the doorway, looking confused for a moment. ‘Out of stock,’ he said. He disappeared and returned waving a packet of fruit bannock at her. ‘I got this instead.’ He dropped it in her lap. ‘We can toast it over the fire.’