The engine of the car purred soothingly, filling the cabin with the scent of leather and air freshener. The grey asphalt, streaked with flawless white lines, rushed toward them before vanishing beneath the wheels. The sun had only just begun its ascent, promising a warm summer day. Louise tilted her head against the seat and shut her eyes.
“Have a nap. We’ve got another twenty minutes,” said Ben to his wife.
“I’d rather nap in my own bed. It’s Sunday, after all. You could’ve come alone. These are your mates, not mine,” Louise murmured, keeping her eyes closed.
“What would I do here without you? Everyone’s bringing their wives. I thought you and Emily got on well enough. Besides, fresh air beats lying in bed.” Ben paused. “It’s been ages since we all got together. Remember how it used to be? Oh, Jack’s bringing his new wife, by the way. Did I mention? No? Wonder who finally managed to tie him down.”
Louise weighed the news, straightened in her seat, and opened her eyes.
“You’ve already seen him, then?”
“Briefly, yeah. No proper catch-up. I miss the old days—sitting by the fire, guitar in hand. Proper lads’ nights.” Ben sighed.
“Now you’ll be at it every weekend,” Louise muttered.
“Come off it. What’s wrong with that? We’ve been mates since uni. Known each other forever. When your mum was ill, Jack handed over the money for her surgery without a second thought.”
Louise sank back into her seat.
“That’s true. Jack’s a good bloke. But Ethan and Emily…”
“What’s wrong with them?” Ben frowned.
“It’s like they’re pretending to be married. Like actors in a play. Doesn’t feel real.”
“Never noticed. They seem alright. You know, Emily and Jack used to date. Everyone thought they’d get hitched first year. Then things fell apart. Emily went and married Ethan instead.”
“You never told me.” Louise turned her head towards him.
“Ancient history. Water under the bridge.” Ben fell silent.
The engine hummed steadily, and Louise shut her eyes again. She opened them when the car jolted off the tarmac onto a dirt road. Pines stood like a dense wall along the path, blocking out the sunlight.
“I forgot how lovely it is here,” Louise gasped.
“Told you.” Ben’s voice brimmed with pride, as if he’d personally arranged the scenery.
The gate to the property stood open—they were expected. Ben parked beside two other cars by the fence. So everyone was here. Jack hurried towards them from the house, arms wide as if he meant to hug the car itself.
“About time. Thought we’d have to leave without you.” Jack embraced Ben, clapping his back. “You’re ageing backwards, mate.” He winked at Louise. “Why’d you bring so much food? We’ve got enough to last a week. Go on, hand over the bags—no such thing as too much.”
The three of them trudged towards the house, arms laden. A barbecue stood ready in the yard, a bag of charcoal beside it. Under an apple tree, a wooden table was set with wicker chairs.
Emily and a younger woman appeared in the doorway, arms full of cushions and blankets.
“Oh! Ben, Louise, hello!” Emily called.
The air filled with noise and laughter, everyone talking at once.
“Right, ladies. You sort things here, we’re off fishing,” Jack announced.
“Typical,” Emily sighed.
“We won’t be long. Just a proper catch-up, lads’ talk. Try not to miss us too much,” Jack teased. “We’ve done our bit—marinated the meat, set up the grill, hauled the supplies. The rest is up to you.”
“Shall we toast to introductions?” Emily produced a bottle of red wine as the men left.
“Oh, I’d rather white. Red gives me a headache,” said the youngest and newest of the group, Alice.
“Got just the thing for you.” Emily vanished inside.
“You know her?” Louise nodded towards the house where Emily had gone.
“We’ve met a few times,” Alice replied.
“Really?” Louise blinked. “How long have you been back in town?”
From the car conversation, she’d gathered they’d just returned from their honeymoon.
“Two weeks,” Alice said.
“Ta-da!” Emily reappeared with a bottle of white wine.
The women sipped their drinks while discussing what to prepare for the meal. Emily took charge—almost deliberately, Louise thought, as if marking territory. *I was here first. You’re the new girl. Know your place.* Louise didn’t like it. Emily’s tone dripped with condescension. But she stayed quiet, using the chance to suss Alice out.
When the table was set, the salads arranged, the women relaxed, waiting for the men. And what do three women talk about? Men, of course.
“Alice, keep your wits about you. Your husband’s a proper flirt. Lost count of the girls he’s brought round. All men cheat, love,” Emily said with a sigh.
“Don’t scare her,” Louise defended.
“Does yours cheat?” Alice asked bluntly.
“Cheeky. You’ll find out soon enough,” Emily shot back, glancing at Louise.
Alice gave her an odd look but stayed silent.
“If I ever found out Ben was cheating, I think I’d forgive him. Not sure,” Louise said, steering the dangerous topic her way.
“Ben wouldn’t dare. Men like him don’t stray,” Emily said warmly.
“But if they all cheat, what’s the point of divorce? Being alone’s worse. And the next man—by your logic—would cheat too. So why swap one problem for another? I know Ben inside out. A new husband’s a gamble.”
“Not all men cheat,” Alice cut in.
“How would you know?” Emily scoffed. “You’ve barely been married. Wait till the honeymoon phase wears off. Routine sets in, his flaws crawl out… You’ll feel sick at the sight of him.”
“Cheaters are just insecure. Need to prove something,” Alice held firm.
“Listen to her, fresh out the nest and already schooling the hens.” Emily huffed, seeking Louise’s support.
“Ladies, play nice,” Ethan’s voice came from behind them.
All three jumped, spinning to face the returning men.
“Where’s the fish?” Emily demanded.
“Did we promise fish? We said we were going fishing—never mentioned bringing any back.” Jack winked, and everyone laughed.
The mood lifted, the chatter returning. The men changed, then tended to the barbecue. The women brought out salads, cold cuts, fruit…
As the sun dipped behind the pines, the guests—tipsy and stuffed with kebabs—sang along to a guitar. Jack’s smooth baritone carried *”You’re the one that I want…”* The others joined in. Alice gazed at her husband, starry-eyed.
Louise, however, noticed Emily’s lingering looks at Jack. *Not over him, then. Not on her end, at least.*
“This is perfect. Missed this so much. Love you lot! Toast to friendship!” Ethan shouted as the song ended.
But the bottles were empty.
“I’ll fetch more.” Emily leapt up and dashed inside.
“Don’t forget Alice’s white!” Louise called after her. “I’ll help.” She followed, intent on scolding Emily in private. No need for Alice to see those longing stares. Things could turn nasty.
Louise crept onto the porch, unsure why she was tiptoeing. Inside, she turned right into the kitchen nook and froze in the doorway. Emily was uncorking the white wine, oblivious. Then she pulled a small vial from her jeans, tipped it, and shook pills into the bottle.
“What are you doing?” Louise cried.
Emily jerked. Pills scattered across the table. “Trying to poison Alice? Have you lost it?”
“Keep your voice down.” Emily peered out the window. “It’s just sleeping pills.”
“Alice is the only one drinking white. You meant to knock her out? Still in love with Jack? Or—” Louise’s eyes widened. “You’re still seeing him.”
“Then say it. Go on. He’s mine. Loved him since uni.”
“Why marry Ethan?” Louise kept her tone calm.
“Stupid revenge. I got pregnant. He didn’t want the baby. The abortion… I can’t have children now.”
“God, Emily. I had no idea.” Louise stepped closer, hugging her shoulders.
“Don’t tell anyone. Thought if she slept, I’d have one night with Jack. Like before. Thought I could move on. But I can’t. It’s agony.” She shoved Louise away, scooping up the spilled pills, dumping them into the bottle.
“Are you mad? That dose could kill her. Stop!” Louise snatched the bottle.
“Good riddance,” Emily hissed.
Alice walked in.
“The lads want to know what’s takingThe women returned to the gathering, the weight of unspoken secrets hanging heavy between them, yet the night carried on as if nothing had changed, with laughter masking the cracks in their fragile peace.
