‘Normally I do, but these are awful. Her paintings sell very well though,’ replies Kieran, still laughing. ‘Admittedly her mum buys a lot of them, but still, she has quite the following.’
‘Like Charles Manson?’
‘Pah. Hannah is lovely, but sadly she’s rapidly disappearing up her own arse. She used to be much more down to earth. Shame. Anyway, where’s Kerry?’
I point towards the antique cabinet, where Kerry is now dancing with the random man. Kieran doesn’t look the least bit bothered; he’s actually smiling.
‘She’s doing this on purpose. First the argument about Hannah and now the flirting. She wants me to get annoyed.’
‘But why?’ I ask, watching Kerry pointedly make eyes at the man, who clearly can’t believe his luck. ‘To make you jealous?’
‘Well, yes. And because she knows I’ll use the paddle on her when we get home.’
‘Paddle? Like an oar?’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Not quite, Cat.’
It takes me a moment, but I get there.
‘JESUS, KIERAN! I don’t need to know that!’
‘I assumed you would already . . . You guys share everything, right?’
‘NOT THIS!’
‘My bad.’ He shrugs. But as I watch him watching her, I get a little pang of jealousy. He’s looking at her the way Dylan looked at me that night. Sheer fucking lust. They still both want each other just as much as when they first met, and I can’t even make it past the first shag.
Before I manage to completely depress myself, a tiny woman in yellow squeezes past me to turn off the stereo before belting out the first line of ‘Happy Birthday’ so loudly I get a fright. Everyone joins in, and Hannah enters with a love-heart-shaped cake, mercifully not inspired by her art, topped with five candles and a sparkler. Just as Beth starts her speech, I see Kieran sneak over to Kerry and whisper something in her ear, while the random man looks on unimpressed. I have no idea what he’s saying, but the smirk on her face gives me a clue. I turn back to Beth, who’s now drunkenly waving the sparkler around like it’s the fifth of November.
‘Please make sure you take some cake, and thanks again for coming!’ she slurs. ‘You all spoil me, you really do.’
Everyone cheers, the dog barks and someone puts on Paul Simon’s ‘Graceland’. Time for another drink. I meet Kerry in the kitchen – she has obviously had the same idea.
‘Nothing makes me want to drink more than Paul Simon’s solo stuff. More wine, Cat?’
‘Yeah. I need to pee though. Where’s the loo?’
‘Door at the end of the hall. You got any powder with you? I’m feeling shiny.’
I chuck my bag at her. ‘It’s in my make-up bag. Back in a sec.’
The bad thing about house parties is the queue for the bathroom. I’m second in line behind a man wearing red jeans, but already I’m hopping from foot to foot, hoping I don’t sneeze or laugh before it’s my turn. Luckily for me, he’s quick, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief that I won’t be known as Pissy Pants by a room full of strangers. Suddenly there’s a loud knock on the door.
‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ I yell, looking around for the toilet roll, which has unrolled itself halfway across the floor.
‘It’s only me!’ Kerry shouts back. ‘You got a message from Tom! Hurry up, this is killing me.’
Fuck! I expertly reach across for the loo roll while ensuring my arse hovers above the toilet seat – I don’t trust my pelvic floor not to unleash hell on Beth’s lovely bathroom tiles. Hands washed, I rush back to the kitchen, where Kerry hands me my phone sheepishly. ‘You’ll have to wait for sixty seconds. I couldn’t guess your stupid passcode and I’ve locked you out.’
‘You were going to read it?!’ I guess I’m not really surprised; I’d have done the same. We both sit and stare intensely at my phone until it lets me in again and I click on the envelope symbol.
Down south on family matter but will be back next week. Tom x
‘Well, at least he texted,’ I say. ‘And there’s a kiss this time. Maybe his granny died or something.’
‘Maybe he’s with his wife.’ I can always rely on Kerry to say the words I don’t want to hear.
‘Ex-wife!’ I interject. ‘They’re divorced.’
