Are you actually going to spend all of Saturday sifting through the junk in your garage? The whole Saturday? Grace speared a piece of Victoria sponge with her fork, eyebrow cocked at the tall, gingerish young man across from her.
Tom leaned back, warming his palms on a mug of lukewarm cappuccino.
Grace, for the hundredth time, its not junkits the lost treasure trove of my childhood. Somewhere buried in there is my prized collection of Football Premier Stars trading cards, mind you. Thats worth a kings ransom, surely?
Oh, heavens. You kept those? Since when, the 90s? Grace snorted, shoulders shaking with the effort not to burst out laughing.
The cafés battered sofasan audacious shade somewhere between aubergine and bruised plumand its eternally fogged-up windows had become their unofficial headquarters years ago. Lucy, the waitress, no longer asked for their ordersjust plonked down a cappuccino for him, a flat white for her, and whatever cake happened to be the days special. After fifteen years of friendship, their routine was practically a sacred rite.
Alright, I admit it, Tom saluted her with his coffee mug. The garage can wait, and so can the treasure. By the way, Dans invited everyone to a barbecue on Sunday.
I know. He spent three hours last night comparing barbecue grills on Argos. Three. Hours. I thought I might expire from boredom, Grace said, rolling her eyes.
Their laughter mingled with the humming coffee machine and the low babble from neighbouring tables.
There were never awkward silences, never unsaid thingsthey knew each other as well as their own reflections. Grace remembered how Tomgangly and laces always undonehad been the first to greet her when she arrived at a new school. Tom remembered shed been the only one not to tease him about his specs that looked like theyd belonged to a retired geography teacher.
Dan had accepted Tom and Graces friendship from day one, no questions or jealous mutterings. Hed watch his wife and her childhood mate with the relaxed good nature of someone who trusted both himself and those he loved. On Friday evenings, over Monopoly or Uno, Dan would laugh louder than anyone when Tom lost to Graceagainat Scrabble, and hed cheerfully pour the tea while the two of them bickered over the official rules of charades.
He cheats, thats why he wins, Grace announced one night, pelting playing cards at her husband.
Its not cheating, darling, its advanced strategy, Dan replied serenely, gathering up the cards with the patience of a saint.
Tom would watch them and grin. He genuinely liked Dandependable, solid, with a wit so dry you could choke on it if you werent careful. Dan brought out a gentler, happier side of Grace, and Tom was honestly pleased for herisnt that what being a real friend means?
The delicate social equilibrium only wobbled when Faith arrived.
Dans sister had turned up on their doorstep a month earlier, her eyes red and her chin set with stoic resolve. Her divorce had wrung her dry, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste and a chasm where normality used to be.
On Faiths first evening in the house, Tom popped round for their customary board game night. Faith tore herself away from scrolling through her phone and eyed him thoughtfully, as though a forgotten part of her brain had just started clicking into gear. Here stood a mancalm, kindly, with a smile that made you want to smile back.
This is Tom, Grace introduced, my old friend from school. And this is Faith, Dans sister.
Lovely to meet you, Tom said, shaking her hand.
Faith clung to his hand just a bit longer than was strictly necessary.
Charmed.
Almost instantly, Faiths coincidental appearances at their favourite café became scheduled events. Shed breeze into the lounge with a plate of digestives the very moment Tom showed up. She planted herself at the card table strategically close, her shoulder nudging his.
Could you hand me that card, please? Faith would lean past him, her hair tickling his necknot accidentally, mindOops, sorry!
Tom would inch away, murmuring polite nothings. Grace exchanged glances with Dan, but he just shruggedFaith had always been a little much.
The flirting got bolder by the week. Faith lingered over Toms face, found opportunities to touch his arm, and laughed at his jokes so forcefully Grace considered investing in earplugs.
You have such beautiful hands. Such long, artistic fingers, Faith declared once, tracing his over the counter of chips. Are you a musician?
Er… software developer.
Beautiful all the same.
Tom carefully disentangled his hand and pretended to be utterly absorbed by his cards, ears flaming pink.
After the third invitation for a just-a-friendly-coffee-and-chat, Tom gave in. He did quite like Faithshe was vibrant, impulsive, a living firework. Perhaps, he thought, if they gave it a real shot, shed stop regarding him like a steak at a vegan dinner party, and everything would revert to normal.
The first few weeks of the romance were decent. Faith was beaming; Tom was at ease; family game nights returned to their familiar, cheerful routine.
But then Faith saw something shed rather not have seen.
She caught how Tom lit up around Grace. How his expression would soften, how easily their banter zipped back and forth, how they completed each others sentences as casually as breathing. There was an effortless closeness she could neither breach nor quite ignore.
Jealousy sprang up in Faiths chest, vigorous as Japanese knotweed in a damp garden.
Why do you see her all the time? Faith confronted Tom, blocking the hall with arms folded.
Because shes my friend. For fifteen years, Faith. Thats
But Im your girlfriend! Me! Not her!
And so began the screaming matches, one after another. Faith wept, accused, demanded. Tom apologised, explained, pleaded.
You think about her more than me!
Faith, thats nonsense. Were just mates.
Just mates dont look at each other like you do!
Toms phone buzzed incessantly whenever he was with Grace.
Where are you? When are you coming home? Why arent you answering? Are you with her again?!
Eventually, Tom put his phone on silent. Faith moved on to popping up in personat the café, in the park, standing outside Graces flateyes wild, nostrils flaring.
Faith, for goodness sake. This is ridiculous. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose.
Whats ridiculous is you spending more time with someone elses wife than with your own girlfriend!
Grace was exhausted, too. Every meet-up with Tom became a gamblewhen would Faith barge in, and how outrageous would the row be this time?
Maybe I should see less of you Grace began once, but Tom didnt let her finish.
No way. Not happening. Youre not rearranging your life just because shes being melodramatic. None of us are.
But Faith had made up her mind. If honesty wasnt working, shed try the other route.
Dan was sat at the kitchen table when Faith wafted in.
Dan, I really didnt want to say anything but… well, you deserve to know the truth
Delivery immaculate: tears in the right places, a conspiracy between Tom and Grace, the suspicious hand-holding, the lingering glances.
Dan listened, impassive and silent, face as inscrutable as a Sunday Times crossword.
When Grace and Tom returned an hour later, the living room was thick with tensionlike week-old rice pudding. Dan lounged on the armchair, the picture of someone about to enjoy a particularly juicy episode of EastEnders.
Take a seat, Dan said, nodding at the sofa. Faiths just shared a rather thrilling story about your torrid affair.
Grace froze mid-step. Tom drew in a sharp breath.
What on
She insists shes seen some highly inappropriate behaviour.
Faith hunched, gazing determinedly at her shoes.
Tom swung to face her so abruptly she nearly fell off her perch.
Thats it, Faith. Enough. Ive put up with your hysterics long enough!
His face was chalk-white with fury. The usual affable Tom had vanished, replaced by a man at the end of his tether.
Its over. Right now.
You cant Real tears, this time, pooled in Faiths eyes.
Its all her fault! She jabbed in Graces direction. You always pick her! Always!
Grace gave Faith a moment to spit her venom.
You know, Faith, she said quietly, if you hadnt tried to control every moment of his life and manufactured drama out of fresh air, none of this wouldve happened. You wrecked what you were trying to hold together.
Faith snatched up her bag and stormed out in a flurryslamming the door with maximal theatricality.
And then Dan laugheda big, uninhibited howl, head thrown against the back of the chair.
Thank heavens, at last.
He stood, put an arm round Graces shoulders.
You didnt believe her, did you? Grace asked, face pressed to his jumper.
Not a chance. Ive watched you and Tom for years. Youre like a brother and sister arguing over who nabbed the last Hobnob.
Tom exhaled, finally relaxing.
Sorry for getting you mixed up in this soap opera.
Oh, dont fuss. Faiths her own personshell have to live with the consequences. Now, can we eat? The lasagnes going cold and I refuse to reheat it just because of someone elses melodrama.
Grace laughed softly, all tension dissolving. The family was intact, the friendship had survived, and her husbands trust had proven stronger than any malicious rumour.
They made their way to the kitchen, the lasagnes golden crust glinting under the warm lamps. Just like that, the world settled back into reassuring, familiar shapes and sounds.
