The Party - Lisa Hall

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a better mood, and raises her eyebrows at me.

      ‘Hmmm. Could be better.’ I take a large sip of the sangria, wincing slightly at the burn of the brandy on my tongue, still feeling raw and ever so slightly hurt by the way Gareth spoke to me before people arrived. We haven’t had an opportunity to speak at all since people got here, apart from his barking instructions at me, and last time I looked he’d still got that frown on his face. ‘He’s got the arse because he doesn’t want to be hosting today.’

      ‘He seemed OK when I arrived? Well, not miserable anyway.’ Amy looks at me quizzically and I sigh inwardly. Gareth has this knack of turning on the charm when it suits him. No one would believe that he doesn’t actually want any of them to be here, or that we’d had a disagreement before they arrived, he hides it so well, coming across as good old Gareth, so friendly and charming. What a guy.

      ‘Believe me, he doesn’t want the neighbours to be here. He said he’s got things he should be doing – work, you know,’ I roll my eyes, ‘but it’s our turn. We argued about it before everyone arrived – he said that I shouldn’t have agreed to host, not without discussing it with him first, but what was I supposed to say? We couldn’t very well just say we weren’t doing it, not after everyone else has hosted.’

      ‘So things are still a bit difficult?’

      ‘So fucking difficult at times. It’s like a rollercoaster – sometimes he’s just … brilliant. The Gareth I married – funny, kind, the old Gareth, you know? He’ll do something unexpected, something that makes me think, oh, that’s why I love you. And then other times …’ I resist the urge to lay my head on Amy’s shoulder and cry. ‘Other times he’s just … impossible. Constantly in a foul temper, but when I ask him he tells me it’s none of my business, or that nothing is wrong. Either that or he just completely ignores me – literally, he just blanks me when I speak to him, just carries on staring at his phone. And then when he does speak to me, all we do is row. It’s awful for me – it must be hell for Robbie.’ I look over to where Robbie stands with his primary school best friend, Sean, and his father. There’s no sign of Angela, Sean’s mother. The West Marsham rumour mill has it that Ted and Angela are on the verge of splitting up – apparently, she’s been getting friendly with her yoga teacher – and the fact that she doesn’t seem to be spending much time with Ted at the moment is only fuelling the gossip. Robbie says something and they all laugh, Ted – Sean’s father – clapping Robbie on the arm. Ted obviously doesn’t seem to be too bothered by the rumours. Either that, or he has utter faith in Angela’s fidelity. Across from them, Gareth stands alone at the grill, his mouth set in a grim line. I incline my head towards him and Amy follows my gaze.

      ‘Ahhh. I see what you mean. I don’t know what to suggest – if he won’t talk to you properly, have you tried suggesting counselling?’

      I drain my glass, letting out a bark of laughter.

      ‘Are you kidding? If he won’t talk to me, there’s no way he’ll even consider counselling. To be honest, Amy, Rob’s old enough now … sometimes I think it would be easier to leave him and just start again.’ Abruptly I get to my feet, under the pretence of finding a fresh pitcher of sangria, but in reality, it’s so Amy doesn’t see the tears that spring to my eyes.

      ‘Rachel!’ Gareth’s voice cuts through my thoughts. ‘Little help here, please!’

      I walk over, trying to keep a smile on my face as our guests look on, the empty pitcher dangling from one hand.

      ‘Can you get rid of these things, please?’ Gareth forces a smile, but you could cut the tension between us with a knife. He leans in close. ‘You did say you’d take the empty trays in to leave me some space.’

      ‘I was busy,’ I hiss, anxious not to let our guests overhear, ‘I’ve been trying to keep people entertained.’ I snatch up the trays, trying to balance them and the empty glass jug without anything crashing to the floor. Walking away, I don’t wait for Gareth to reply, knowing that whatever I say today won’t help things.

      ‘Here, let me.’ A voice stops me, and a warm hand lands on my wrist. I look up to see Ted. ‘You look like you’re about to overbalance.’

      ‘Thank you.’ I smile up at him, letting him take the top two trays and the jug. He walks away, towards the kitchen and I glance over to see if Gareth has noticed. He hasn’t.

      I manage to relax a little after that, the tautness of my nerves loosening as the drink flows and the afternoon cools into early evening. Gareth also seems to be more like his old self, putting away the scowl that’s permanently fixed to his face lately and actually engaging with people, now that the food is cooked and he doesn’t have the excuse of the barbecue to hide behind. He still doesn’t speak to me, though, and before long I stop worrying about what he is doing and whether he is making an effort, and try to enjoy the party.

      Robbie disappears after a little while, telling me he’s going to meet Courtney, a girl I know he has his eye on. I wish him luck and tell him to make sure he has a door key, before settling back in to conversation with Liz, Amy and Natalie, all of us gossiping and swapping stories. It is dusk when Jonno and Melody, the neighbours from two doors down arrive, Melody greeting me with a hug and Jonno greeting Gareth with a hearty clap on the back, a fug of alcohol already surrounding them as they squeeze into the circle of friends and neighbours that sit around the small bonfire Robbie lit before he left.

      Staggering slightly as I get to my feet, the sangria I’ve been steadily drinking hitting me as I stand, I wander towards the kitchen intent on getting drinks for the new arrivals, as Liz greets them with boozy kisses and Neil forages under the cover of the grill to find them a leftover burger. I am humming slightly under my breath as I peer into the wine rack for another bottle of red, the alcohol firing a warm buzz through my veins, when someone grips me tightly by the arm. Shocked, I drop the glass I’m holding and it shatters across the kitchen floor.

      ‘Shit.’ I pull away, rubbing at my arm as Gareth appears beside me. ‘What the hell did you grab me for?’ Scowling, I open the cupboard under the sink and start rummaging around for a dustpan and brush.

      ‘Party’s over.’ Gareth pulls at my arm again as I stand, dustpan in hand. ‘Come on, it’s time to wrap it up. You’ve had enough to drink.’

      ‘What? No, the party isn’t over – Mel and Jonno have only just arrived! I need to clean this mess up. And I’m not drunk.’ I bend and start to sweep clumsily at the glass on the floor, but Gareth shifts so that he blocks my way. ‘Gareth, move, please. Someone could cut themselves.’

      ‘I said leave it. The party is over. You need to come out and help me tell everyone it’s time to go. Now.’ He leans down and pulls me upright, almost knocking me off balance into the broken glass, as I put out a hand to steady myself.

      ‘And I said no. Everyone is out there having a good time – everyone apart from you! I don’t know what the problem is Gareth, but I’ve just about had enough – do you realize that?’ My voice is raised, my throat thickening with tears of anger. ‘You’re unbearable at the moment, I don’t know what’s going on but …’

      ‘Keep your bloody voice down. There’s nothing going on. These people have had our hospitality all day – I said the party is finished, so let’s go out there and wrap it up.’ He grips my upper arm again and I tug away violently, alcohol and the slight buzz of fear making my stomach clench.

      ‘No. No, I’m not telling people to leave, it’s far too early.’ My palm throbs, and I look down to see a thin line of blood welling up.

      ‘Fine. If what these people think is more important to you than I am, that’s fine. You do what you want.’ With that he storms towards the front door, leaving me shocked and confused by his outburst, with no idea what has brought all of this on, before shouting after him.

      ‘Fuck you, Gareth!’

      There is a light tap on the bathroom door as I lean over the sink, splashing cold water over my puffy, tear-stained face.

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