The car’s engine hummed soothingly, filling the cabin with the scent of leather and air freshener. The grey tarmac, striped with neat white lines, rushed toward them before vanishing beneath the wheels. The sun was just rising, promising a warm summer day. Emily rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes.
“Get some sleep. We’ve got another twenty minutes,” said Richard to his wife.
“I’d rather be sleeping at home in a warm bed. It’s the weekend, after all. You could’ve gone alone. They’re your friends, not mine,” Emily replied without opening her eyes.
“What would I do there by myself? Everyone’s bringing their wives. I thought you and Lucy got along. Besides, there’s no better rest than being out in nature, not cooped up in bed.” Richard fell silent for a moment. “It’s been ages since we all met up. Remember how it used to be? Oh—Jack’s coming with his new wife. Did I tell you? No? Imagine that—he finally settled down. Let’s see who managed to sway the eternal bachelor.”
Emily took in the news, sat up, and opened her eyes.
“You’ve already seen him?”
“Just briefly, no time to chat properly. But I miss the old days—campfires, guitars, all of us together. What times we had,” Richard sighed.
“And now you’ll start meeting every weekend again,” Emily muttered.
“Come on, what’s wrong with that? We’ve been mates since uni. Known each other forever. When your mum was ill, Jack didn’t hesitate—just handed over the cash for her surgery, no questions asked.”
Emily leaned back again.
“That’s true. Jack’s a good bloke. But Tom and Lucy…”
“What’s wrong with them?” Richard sounded surprised.
“It’s like they’re not really a family, just pretending. Something feels off. I can’t explain it.”
“Never noticed. They seem fine to me. You know Lucy used to date Jack? Yeah, proper love story—everyone thought they’d marry right after graduation. Then something went wrong. She ended up with Tom instead.”
“You never mentioned that.” Emily turned to face him.
“That was ages ago. Water under the bridge.” Richard went quiet.
The engine droned steadily, and Emily closed her eyes again. She opened them when the car jolted onto a dirt road. Pine trees stood like a dense wall on either side, blocking out the sunlight.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful it is here,” Emily gasped.
“Told you.” Richard’s voice brimmed with pride, as if he’d had a hand in the scenery himself.
The gates were open—they were expected. Richard parked beside two other cars by the fence. Everyone was here already. Jack hurried toward them, arms wide as if he meant to hug the car too.
“Finally! We were about to leave without you,” Jack clapped Richard on the back. “Still looking sharp, mate. How do you do it?” He winked at Emily. “And why’d you bring so much food? We’ve enough to last a week. Ah well, hand it over—never hurts to have extra.”
Laden with bags, the three of them headed toward the house. A barbecue grill stood ready in the yard, a sack of charcoal beside it. Under the shade of an apple tree, a wooden table was set with wicker chairs.
Lucy appeared in the doorway with a young woman, both arms piled with cushions and blankets.
“Oh! Richard, Emily, hello!” Lucy called.
The air filled with noise and laughter, everyone talking at once.
“Right then, ladies. You sort things here—we’re off fishing,” Jack announced.
“Typical,” Lucy sighed.
“We won’t be long. Just a bit of bloke time. Don’t miss us too much. We’ve done our part—marinated the meat, set up the grill, brought the supplies. The rest is up to you.”
“Girls, shall we toast to new friends?” Lucy produced a bottle of red wine once the men had left.
“Oh, I’d rather have white. Red gives me a headache,” said the youngest of them, the newcomer Sophie.
“Got some just for you,” Lucy said.
“You know her?” Emily asked Sophie, nodding toward the house where Lucy had gone.
“Yes. She’s visited us a couple of times.”
“Really?” Emily raised an eyebrow. From the car conversation, she’d gathered they’d only just returned from their honeymoon.
“Two weeks ago,” Sophie replied.
“Ta-da!” Lucy reappeared with a bottle of white wine.
The women sipped their drinks and discussed the meal preparations. Lucy took charge—too obviously, Emily thought, as if asserting dominance over Sophie. The new girl must know her place.
Emily didn’t like it. Lucy’s condescension was blatant. But she stayed quiet, figuring it was the best way to learn more about Sophie.
Once the table was set, the salads prepared, the women relaxed, waiting for the men. And what do three women talk about? Naturally, men.
“Sophie, keep your wits about you,” Lucy sighed. “Your husband’s quite the charmer. How many women has he brought round our lot? Lost count. All men cheat eventually.”
“Why scare her like that?” Emily defended.
“Does your husband cheat?” Sophie asked bluntly.
“Cheeky. You’ll see soon enough,” Lucy shot back, glancing at Emily.
Sophie gave her a strange look but said nothing.
“If I ever found out Richard cheated, I’d probably forgive him. I don’t know,” Emily said, steering the dangerous topic toward herself.
“Richard would never leave you. Men like him don’t,” Lucy said airily.
“If they all cheat, what’s the point of divorce? Being alone’s worse, so you’d just find someone new—who’d cheat again, by your logic. Why trade one problem for another? Richard and I know each other inside out. Who knows what a new man would bring?”
“Not all men cheat,” Sophie insisted.
“How would you know?” Lucy scoffed. “You’ve barely been married. Wait till the honeymoon phase fades, till you’re tired of his habits, till you can’t stand the sight of him—you’ll see.”
“Only weak men cheat—ones who need to prove something…” Sophie held her ground.
“Listen to her, fresh out of the nest and teaching hens to cluck,” Lucy huffed, seeking Emily’s support.
“Ladies, don’t fight,” Tom’s voice came from behind them.
All three jumped, turning to face the returning men.
“Where’s the fish?” Lucy demanded.
“Did we promise fish? We said we were going fishing—never mentioned bringing any back,” Jack grinned, and the tension dissolved in laughter.
The mood lightened, noise and cheer returning. The men changed clothes and manned the grill. Women brought out salads, cold cuts, fruit…
As the sun dipped behind the pines, the group—warmed by wine and kebabs—sang along to a guitar. Jack’s smooth baritone led the chorus of *”You’re the one for me…”* The others joined in. His voice was rich, effortless. Sophie gazed at him, adoration in her eyes, oblivious to all else.
But Emily noticed Lucy’s lingering glances at Jack. *No, she’s not over him. Not by a long shot.*
“This is brilliant,” Tom slurred as the song ended. “Missed this so much. Love you lot… Let’s toast to friendship!”
But the bottles were empty.
“I’ll fetch more,” Lucy sprang up.
“Don’t forget Sophie’s white!” Emily called after her. “I’ll help.” She followed, planning to scold Lucy in private. No need for Sophie to see those longing looks at Jack.
Emily stepped silently onto the porch—she wasn’t sure why—then turned into the kitchen. Lucy, back turned, uncorked the wine. Then, from her jeans pocket, she pulled out a small vial and tipped pills into the bottle.
“What are you doing?!” Emily cried.
Lucy startled, the pills scattering across the table. “Trying to poison Sophie? Have you lost it?”
“Keep your voice down,” Lucy hissed, glancing out the window. “It’s just sleeping pills.”
“Sophie’s the only one drinking white. You want to knock her out? Do you still love Jack?” Emily’s eyes widened. “You’re still seeing him.”
“Say it. Go on. He’s mine. I’ve loved him since uni.”
“Then why marry Tom?”
“Stupid, wasn’t I? Wanted revenge. Got pregnant—he didn’t want the baby. The abortion… messed me up. I can’t have children now.”
“God, Lucy. I didn’t know.” Emily hugged her.
“Don’t tell anyone. Thought if she slept, I could have one night with Jack, like before. Tried to move on. Can’t. It’s torture.” She shoved Emily away, scooping pills into the bottle.
“Are youAnd as the years passed, their friendships mended—imperfectly, but enough—while the children played together under the same apple tree, oblivious to the storms that had once threatened to tear their families apart.
