Best of Friends. Cathy Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ an hour relaxing as Sally’s sensitive fingers did their anti-ageing magic, Abby was feeling light-headed and prone to day-dreaming. There was something so sensual about Sally’s facials: when her gentle fingers massaged the heavenly, sweetly scented oils into Abby’s face, neck and décolletage, she found herself thinking of how wonderful it would be to have Jay touching her skin like that. His fingers trailing along the sensitive hollows at the base of her throat, and her beautifully manicured fingers touching him in return…

      ‘Have you ever thought of cheating on Steve?’ said Abby idly now.

      Sally looked up from the polish she was carefully applying to Abby’s fingernails. ‘Why?’

      ‘Well…just…you know, seven-year itch,’ blustered Abby, feeling caught out. Whatever had possessed her to say that?

      ‘It’s the three-year itch these days,’ interrupted Ruby, who was doing a French manicure beside them. Ruby was a statuesque thirty-something with hair the colour of a raven’s wing, a warm, eager face, and notoriously bad luck with men. Her last boyfriend had thrilled Ruby when he’d murmured how he’d never felt this strongly about any woman ever before, and two weeks later he’d ended up in bed with a girl in his office. ‘I wouldn’t mind, but she’s not even thinner than me!’ Ruby had raged for at least a month afterwards.

      ‘He wasn’t the right one for you, Ruby,’ comforted Sally now, knowing that Ruby was reflecting on her ex. ‘If he’d been the right one, he’d have been able to resist other women. Oh, sorry, Abby.’ She wet a cotton bud in nail varnish remover to wipe away the splodge of cherry-pink polish that had dripped onto Abby’s finger.

      Abby, who knew it was her fault because she’d jerked convulsively at Sally’s words, shook her head. ‘My fault. I’m jittery today. Hormones, I suppose,’ she lied.

      ‘Steve wouldn’t want to cheat on you, Sally,’ Ruby went on mournfully. ‘He really does cherish the ground you walk on. Until I met you pair, I thought that was just a cliché – a sickening cliché at that,’ she teased, ‘but now I know it can be true.’

      Sally flushed to the roots of her hair. She was one of the few people Abby knew who could blush prettily: that creamy complexion flushed a delicate rosy pink, unlike Abby herself, who developed a wildly unflattering scarlet fever circle in the centre of each cheek at times of stress.

      ‘Steve has his moments,’ Sally said sternly.

      Both Abby and Ruby burst out laughing at this.

      ‘What?’ demanded Sally.

      ‘You never say a bad word about him, do you know that?’ Abby said affectionately.

      ‘Well, you never say a bad word about Tom,’ countered Sally, recovering.

      Abby felt the scarlet fever hit her face with vigour. It was all very well for Sally, she thought as she sat with her fingers splayed to dry. She and Steve were only married eight years, not seventeen numbing ones. Nobody could be expected to feel passionate about anyone or anything after seventeen years. Where was the excitement, the thrill?

      Seventeen years of watching someone leave their socks on when they’d taken off their trousers, so they stood there in underpants and socks. Not a pretty sight. Women made such an effort with their underwear, trying thongs and low-slung pants that bypassed comfort utterly, but try getting a man to wear anything other than the boring sort of jocks he’d worn since the year dot.

      And that way he cleared his throat when they were watching television that made him sound like an elderly sea lion coughing up a fishbone. Abby was convinced he didn’t even know he did it but it was so irritating.

      Wait till Sally and Steve had been together as long as she and Tom. Then Sally mightn’t feel the same way.

      ‘Dry?’ Sally checked Abby’s fingernails for tackiness. ‘A minute more, I think. Now, Steve and I are throwing an impromptu party on Saturday and we’d love you to come – all of you, Jess included.’

      ‘Lovely. What’s the occasion?’

      ‘It’s to introduce Steve’s new boss and his wife to the area. They’ve lived in the US for years and they don’t know anyone here. I thought it would be nice, and this is the only weekend we can do it. He and Steve get on like a house on fire and Steve keeps saying Greg is taking the company places.’

      Abby perked up. Sally and Steve’s parties were legendary. They’d thrown one for Steve’s birthday six months before. The police had come at three and politely asked for the music to be turned down. One man had put his back out showing everyone that he could still stand on his head, while even Abby, who’d planned to take it easy because she didn’t know any of the people of Dunmore, had joined the drunken conga around Sally’s tiny alpine rockery. Tom had the photographic proof: a picture of a glassy-eyed Abby clinging to a dwarf conifer, wearing a hastily improvised Carmen Miranda headdress of two bananas and an orange all tied up with a tea towel.

      Spur-of-the-moment parties, the type Sally and Steve were so good at, were always fun.

      ‘Their names are Erin and Greg Kennedy and they’re lovely. You’re going to love her, Abby,’ Sally continued. ‘She’s funny, very warm and absolutely stunning-looking.’

      Abby, who’d had a mental vision of a glossy corporate wife determined to patronise the inhabitants of Dunmore, was even more turned off by this description. Stunning-looking women made her feel insecure. She wasn’t entirely sure that she’d like this paragon.

      ‘Does she work?’

      ‘She used to be something big in personnel in the States but she’s not working yet. They’re both Irish, both glamorous. Ruby has a crush on him.’

      ‘He’s something else,’ Ruby sighed. ‘If I didn’t know from experience how painful it is when another bitch runs off with your man, I’d go for Mr Kennedy in a big way. We’re talking double chocolate chip with real chocolate sauce.’

      ‘That good?’ said Abby, impressed. She’d bet that no matter how cute Greg Kennedy was, he couldn’t be better looking than Jay Garnier.

      She paid the bill, hugged Sally goodbye carefully so as not to smudge her nails, and left the salon. There were three messages on her mobile phone when she switched it on. One from Tom: ‘Can you pick up my grey suit from the cleaner’s? I’ve got a parent-teacher tomorrow night and I’ll need it. Oh, I’ll be late tonight. Half seven probably. I won’t have eaten. See you then.’ Abby felt the kernel of dissatisfaction inside her swell. What was she – chief cook and bottle-washer or a career woman who was responsible for their financial success? Tom’s bloody deputy principal’s salary wouldn’t have bought them a house in Dunmore, that was for sure, and yet she was still the one hauling her ass all over town, buying groceries and picking up suits.

      The second message didn’t improve her temper. It was Cheryl, the production assistant from Beech. ‘Hi, Abby, it’s Cheryl. Sorry to bother you but there’s been a change of plan on the shooting schedule next week. Instead of shooting in Dublin on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, we’re just doing Wednesday and Thursday. I’ll phone you later in the week with the details and we’ll change your plane ticket and hotel reservation. Byee.’

      Why did things change now? Abby had had to reschedule a lucrative private decluttering job from Monday and Tuesday simply so she could fit in the TV show. The client hadn’t minded but Abby СКАЧАТЬ