My colleagues didn’t warm to her the way I did. They made jokes that we could be twins were it not for my hair being blonde and straight, and hers a mop of mousy brown curls. But I think most of the bitchy comments were green-eyed. Gossip is almost always jealousy’s love child. She’s shy and socially awkward, in that way that makes people suspicious. She’s also a tad too quiet, and always speaks as though doubting everything that comes out of her own mouth, trying the words on for size as if worried they might not fit. But not tonight.
‘I’m so sorry to turn up like this, uninvited,’ she said, wiping her tear-stained face with the back of her hand. She was wearing an enormous puffy coat with a hood, which didn’t match the heels at all.
‘What’s happened? Are you all right?’ I asked and she started to sob. ‘Come in—’
‘No, I really can’t. Adam says it’s your anniversary…’
Your name on her lips sounded foreign to my ears.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ve been married for almost a decade; we don’t even have sex anymore.’
The look you gave me then was priceless.
I wonder what my own face did when she accepted the invitation, stepped inside, and lowered her hood to reveal a head of blonde hair. The mousy curls were gone, instead it was styled straight just like mine, and dyed exactly the same shade.
‘Oh…’ she said, clocking my reaction as she removed her coat. ‘I got my hair done.’
‘So I see,’ I said, taking in the rest of the makeover. Her work uniform of a Battersea sweatshirt, old jeans and trainers – which was pretty much all I had ever seen her wear – had been replaced with a tight-fitting red dress. She looked different yet familiar: she looked like me. She even sounded a bit like me. The East-End twang I’d got used to was gone, but then a lot of people sound different when they are nervous. And she seemed super nervous around you.
‘I wanted to look nice because I had a date… but it was a bad one. He said he wanted to pick me up and I thought he was being old-fashioned and kind, but now he knows where I live. He threatened me and got very aggressive when I didn’t invite him in and… I’m so sorry, I don’t know anyone else in London except you and—’
‘It’s OK, you’re safe now. Would a glass of champagne help?’ you suggested, and she smiled with teeth that seemed whiter than before.
You’re always a better husband when we have an audience.
I felt so sorry for her as the three of us sat in the lounge, drinking our anniversary champagne, and listening to her seemingly endless horror stories about single life. I couldn’t imagine being on my own at our age. The world has changed so much – online dating, speed dating, dating apps – it all sounds awful. I had never seen it before – perhaps because she did such a good job of hiding it beneath the baggy Tshirts and old jeans she normally wore – but my friend is quite beautiful when she makes an effort. If single life is so hard for her, imagine what it would be like for us mere mortals. I felt far too old for that sort of malarkey. I watched you, watching her and being so kind and considerate. She beamed constantly as you made polite conversation, as though there were a smile quota she had to fulfil before the end of the night. I was glad that the two of you seemed to get on. As we opened another bottle, and sat and listened to her talk about dreadful dates with terrible men, I realised just how lucky I was to have one of the good ones.
‘Well, it was nice to finally meet your work wife,’ you whispered, as we climbed into bed. She was asleep in our spare room, and given the amount of alcohol she consumed there was probably no need to lower your voice.
‘I don’t know why I’ve never invited her over before. Now I think of it, I’m not sure how she knew where to find me – I don’t think I’ve ever given her our address – but I’m glad that she did.’
‘She isn’t quite what I pictured from the way you described her. She seems… nice.’
‘You said that like it was an insult. Did you find her attractive?’
You laughed. ‘No.’
‘Really? Even with the hair and heels and make-up—’
‘Really, no. Besides I can’t see all that, remember? I only see what’s inside.’
‘And what did you see? Inside?’
‘An actress. I’ve met enough of them to know.’
I laughed. ‘That’s bonkers… she’s a quiet little mouse most of the time.’