I Invited Her In - Adele Parks

Скачать книгу

although she withheld any conviction from her voice, because she secretly wanted Mel to understand – and then confess – that they were quite ordinary friends.

      Mel obliged. ‘They are kind to me but ever since Taylor Swift and her bunch of leggy girlfriends started promoting themselves as the ultimate girl gang – you know, arms slung across each other’s shoulders, snaked around one another’s waists – I’ve had a niggling feeling that I’m missing out on the whole female friendship thing.’

      Abi smiled, encouragingly. ‘Girlfriends are cool.’

      ‘They are,’ said Mel firmly. ‘How had I forgotten that?’ She sipped her champagne and became more confessional. ‘I guess because I spent my twenties wiping various baby fluids, and singing nursery rhymes, the friendship rituals – that I know other women enjoy – took a backseat.’ Abi reached forward and squeezed Mel’s hand. Mel necked her glass of champagne and Abi quickly refilled it. ‘I’ve never had a friend who would drive a hundred miles, armed with chocolate and wine, to avert my personal crises.’ Mel paused. Something hit her, not just the alcohol content of the Moet. ‘At least, not since you, Abi.’

      Abi had never actually had to drive one hundred miles – they’d shared student accommodation when they were young – so it was an untested theory but it was a lovely idea.

      ‘I have held back your hair as you’ve said a second hello to your dinner and cocktails. Twice, I think,’ said Abi. She wasn’t certain. She had a strong stomach; she had done this for many friends at university; Mel might have been among them. Or maybe not. Mel laughed and didn’t contradict her, so Abi assumed she must have.

      ‘I suppose you have a lot of close friends.’ Mel sounded almost sulky.

      ‘Absolutely!’ Abi lied. ‘I need them to help me forgive my embarrassing mistakes and appalling faux pas.’

      ‘I can’t imagine you have many of those.’

      ‘I’ve had my share.’ Abi shrugged.

      ‘That’s what friends do though, don’t they? Forgive your moments of crazy recklessness or selfishness,’ Mel declared with intensity.

      ‘If they can,’ said Abi. For a moment, there was a silence between them. Heavy and layered.

      Mel gulped back the champagne and looked longingly at the bottle. Then she seemed to shake herself. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I mean even if, in some alternate universe, Gillian or Becky were interviewed for Hello! magazine I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t use the opportunity to declare that their very survival is dependent on my friendship, the way Taylor Swift’s friends might,’ said Mel, with a sad sigh. Abi remembered this about her now. She became emotional on alcohol.

      Abi leaned across the table. ‘Maybe not, but you know I would, right? I mean, what you’ve done for me, scooped me up, invited me into your home. It’s so generous. Above and beyond. I’m more than grateful.’

      Mel smiled and blushed. Abi had thought Mel might have grown out of the blushing by now; it was almost cute on a teen, but a little dispiriting on a woman who ought to be more confident.

      ‘Well, if anyone is going to be interviewed by Hello! it’s you!’ pointed out Mel, laughingly. Then, more soberly, she added, ‘I know it’s crazy because we’ve only been reunited for twenty-four hours, but Abi, it’s like we’ve never been apart, isn’t it? And you know, I’d do anything to make things better for you. I really would.’

      ‘People say anything, but they don’t really mean it,’ said Abi.

      Mel looked crushed. ‘Well, I mean it. Anything at all,’ she insisted.

      Abi smiled and nodded. It was exactly what she wanted to hear.

       Melanie

      I’ve never fallen in love at first sight. I’m a slow-burn sort. My boyfriends before Liam’s father were mates before they became dates. I was never in love with Liam’s father; just in lust. And Ben? Well, he had to woo me in the old-fashioned way because, basically, I was terrified he was going to hurt me – or more importantly, Liam – by bouncing in and then out of our lives. His good looks worked against him; it took a long time for me to trust him. Yet, I remember back to that first moment I met Abi, I had flutters in my stomach. An instant spark, a feeling that we were meant to be together. And now, I feel it all over again. I’m not coming out here. I don’t fancy her. I’m just saying being with her is intense, wonderful, uplifting. I’ve missed her.

      I can’t wait to get the girls to bed. They sense it and play up. Ben’s no help because he sees Abi’s visit as an excuse to pop to the gym and then no doubt he’ll undo the good work as he’ll nip to the local for a cold one; he rushes out the door at seven thirty.

      ‘You’ve got yourself a good man there,’ says Abi as she waves to him from the sitting-room window. Ben waves back and grins at her, as he dashes down the path. ‘Where is he from?’

      It’s a strange non-sequitur comment. ‘Newcastle.’

      ‘His parents?’

      ‘Newcastle.’ I know what she’s getting at and even when it’s Abi asking, it’s annoying. It’s hard to see her enquiry as anything other than outright prejudice. There’s an implication that he’s somehow not exactly British, even though he was born here and his parents were born here. ‘His grandparents are Jamaican,’ I add, because this is what she’s asking and because we’re proud of the fact.

      ‘How fascinating. How wonderful. Do you ever go there for holidays?’

      Her obvious enthusiasm makes me relax a little. I feel a bit ashamed that I thought she was being off. It’s just that mixed-race couples still raise an eyebrow and we shouldn’t. But I should never have imagined Abi would be so small-minded.

      ‘No. His mother once went to visit her aunt and uncle but Ben doesn’t know anyone there,’ I explain. ‘I’d love to go one day. Take the kids, so they get to know a bit more about their heritage.’

      ‘You certainly don’t have a type, do you?’ she muses.

      ‘What do you mean?’ I ask carefully. I’m smiling because I don’t want this to be a thing but I sense it is.

      ‘Well, Liam’s father, what was he called? Dean?’

      ‘Ian.’

      ‘Yes, Ian. Well, he can’t have looked much like Ben. Liam is so blonde.’

      ‘I think he gets that from my mother,’ I reply, not prepared to confirm or deny whether Liam’s father was blonde. It’s been a long time since I’ve had these sorts of conversations. I start to head towards the kitchen.

      ‘Maybe. They do say certain genes skip a generation.’

      ‘Shall we try that grapefruit tonic?’ I offer.

      ‘I hope you mean with gin.’

      ‘Absolutely.’

      ‘Then yes.’ As I pass her the drink she asks, ‘Does Liam mind?’

      ‘Mind what?’

      ‘That he doesn’t look anything like the rest of you. Does he feel separate? Isolated?’

      What an odd question. It’s true that the rest of us all have brown hair and eyes. Ben is black and the girls have beautiful sepia brown skin. I pick up quite a good tan in the summer although I’m a ghostly white right now, my hair has a definite kink to it, the girls and Ben have big, confident afros. Liam’s hair is poker straight. He’s pale and blonde, as Abi mentioned. Blue eyed.

      ‘We’ve never really dwelt on the matter.’ I know I sound prickly. I’m trying not to be but I am.

Скачать книгу