“I hear you’re taking up your journalism again,” she said.
“Oh?” I was surprised. I hadn’t broadcast the fact and I doubted David would have mentioned it to anyone.
She winked at me. “No secrets on the Base; you should know that, Caroline. I just happened to run into Shirley Peters and she told me you’d been out with Mitch and the boys.”
“Oh, I see.”
Donna didn’t mind mixing with the wives of enlisted men. Good.
The doorbell rang again and I was saved from having to move the subject away from Mitch and surfing.
“Duty calls,” I said, rather too glumly.
Donna flashed a warm smile and released my arm, promising that we’d ‘catch up’ later. I was sorry that I’d have to avoid her instead—I liked Donna, but I couldn’t afford to be friends with her. Not now.
Sebastian’s parents were standing at the door when I opened it, Estelle’s face set in the rictus smile she reserved for social occasions; Donald muttered some platitude and pushed his way inside.
Over Estelle’s shoulder, I saw Sebastian sitting behind the wheel of the Hunters’ car. I was caught off-guard and something about my expression caused Estelle to turn to see what I was looking at. She smirked.
“It seems that having a child can be useful after all,” she said. “Who knew? Anyway, it saved us a fight over who got to drink tonight.”
“Is he going to wait outside all evening?” I asked, the concern a little too evident in my voice.
“Oh no,” she said, off-handedly. “He’ll come when we call him.”
He’s not a pet dog!
She turned away and walked into the house; Sebastian and I were left to stare at each other across the expanse of driveway.
He gave me the briefest of smiles then reluctantly pulled his eyes away from mine. I watched until the car had disappeared from sight. My heart was racing and I felt dizzy. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and walked back inside.
I spent the rest of the evening being polite and a good hostess, but anxiety strained my nerves to the point where I felt I’d scream.
“Are you all right, Caroline?” said Donna sympathetically. “You seem a little out-of-sorts.”
I laughed, trying to control the quaver in my voice. “It’s just been a long day. I feel like I’ve been cooking forever.”
It was a lame excuse and I didn’t think she’d fallen for it. But, thoughtful as ever, she accepted my words at face value.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve set the standard now. It’s all absolutely delicious. I don’t know how you do it: cook, write, and look after David.”
She glanced over to where he was holding court, extolling the virtues of white Port over other fortified wines. I knew for a fact he’d looked up the salient points earlier that day on the internet … in between playing cards. David knew nothing about wine. He hated the fact that I did. Was there anything he liked about me? Oh yes, my cooking.
I heard a loud crash and turned in time to see the remains of the food I’d so carefully prepared cascade to the floor in a shower of crumbs and broken pastry.
The worse for wear, Donald Hunter had blundered into the buffet table and was being supported by Commander Bennett and one of the officers whose name I couldn’t remember.
The room was equally divided between those who stared at Donald and those who stared at me to measure my reaction.
“I guess that’s what you call laying on the buffet,” I said, with a resigned shrug.
A ripple of laughter eased the sudden tension in the room and Donald was escorted into the yard, presumably to sober up.
Donna squeezed my arm. “I didn’t know you were mistress of the one-liner, Caroline.”
Mistress? If only you knew.
“Let me help you clear that mess,” she continued.
Several of the women and a few of the men volunteered to help shovel up the ruined food. Not David, of course. Nor Estelle, who stood with her back to the scene her husband had caused.
“What a waste,” said Donna, sighing. “I admit I had my eyes on a box of take-out.”
I smiled ruefully and was about to reply when we heard raised voices out in the yard. Donna’s eyes hardened, and she shook her head with annoyance. I saw her exchange a look with her husband, who nodded slightly and headed outside.
“The Hunters,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “Donald never could hold his liquor. I wonder how they’re getting home.”
“Estelle said that Sebastian was driving them.” I answered a fraction too quickly and Donna threw me a quizzical look.
“Hmm. I’d better give him a call,” she said, pulling a cell phone from her purse and scrolling through the numbers.