We used to come here, Dot and Bill and Arthur and me. It wasn’t called The Carpenters then. It was The Boot. You wouldn’t know it was the same place. Dot and I would have a gin and tonic and make it last all evening, and the men would have two or three pints. Dot wasn’t a big fan of it, spending the evening like that. She said it felt like we were waiting to go somewhere and do something, rather than the pub being the main event. She loved dancing, that was what it was. Loved moving, chatting, walking. She found standing around in a pub boring. I look around, as if there’s a chance I’ll see her, over there by the slot machine where there used to be a jukebox, choosing something by Elvis or Buddy Holly, grabbing hold of someone’s wrists and starting to dance in the middle of the pub.
Julie marches off and then waves Patricia and me over, and she’s found a little tucked away table and I’m relieved but I just hope we won’t miss Martin altogether. I thought about letting Patricia or Kirsty in on the secret, but I think it will be more authentic if I’m the only one who knows. I’m good at keeping a straight face, at not letting on. I’ve been doing it all my life.
Kirsty arrives carrying a tray with four fancy cocktail glasses. The drinks are clear and decorated with olives. It’s a long time since I’ve had anything other than a sherry but I decide one or two won’t hurt.
‘What is it?’ Patricia asks.
‘Gin martini,’ Kirsty says, sliding the tray onto the table and unloading the glasses. ‘You can’t go wrong with a classic.’
‘Well, cheers,’ Julie says, lifting her glass. ‘To friendship.’
‘To friendship,’ we repeat.
It makes me think about what friendship is. About Dot, about Arthur, about these women around the table with me now. It can be all kinds of things. It can save your life.
‘It smells funny in here,’ I say.
‘Like what?’ Julie asks.
I try to put my finger on it. ‘Sweat and urine, mostly. Pubs just used to smell of smoke, which was bad enough, but I think this is worse.’
‘Oh my god,’ Julie says.
She’s seen him. Her face has paled but she’s looking great. That sharp new haircut and an animal-print dress Kirsty helped her choose that really shows off her curves. A slash of bright lipstick. She’s a new woman. Not that there was anything wrong with the old version, but men can be so visual and stupid.
Kirsty and Patricia have swivelled around on their chairs, but of course they don’t know him, so all they see is a crowd.
‘It’s Martin,’ Julie says.
‘Martin? Your Martin? Is he with her?’ Kirsty asks. She makes the word ‘her’ sound like the worst kind of insult.
‘No, he’s with his mate, Jamie. Oh my god, what are the chances?’
I turn, then, and have a proper look at him. He’s not bad-looking. He’s just very ordinary.
‘I’m going over there,’ Julie says. ‘I can’t spend all night hiding, can I? Better to pre-empt it.’
None of us says anything, and she gets up and goes. I’m impressed with how decisive she is.
We watch them in silence, trying to be discreet. He’s clearly surprised to see her, but he gives her a hug that seems warm.
‘What do you think?’ Kirsty asks. ‘Good news or bad news?’
‘She wants him back,’ I say. ‘She’s always mooning about. And you can’t get back with someone without seeing them, can you?’
Kirsty narrows her eyes at me, as if she thinks I might have had something to do with this but she can’t quite work out what, and I just smile politely and ask if she’s ready for another drink.
By the time we have our second drinks in our hands, Julie’s back. She’s flushed and a bit giddy, as if she’s already had one too many.
‘So?’ Kirsty asks, and we put our heads in close for her to fill us in, as if he would stand a chance of hearing our conversation at the other end of a busy pub.
‘He didn’t mention her,’ Julie says. ‘But then he wouldn’t, I suppose. He offered to buy me a drink. It was all very amicable.’
‘And there’s been no talk of selling the house yet, or anything like that, has there?’ I ask.
Julie looks a bit shocked. ‘No. God, I’d hate to leave that house.’
‘Well, hopefully you won’t have to.’
‘What do you mean? Do you think…？’ She’s unable to say it, this thing she most hopes for.
‘I think you’ll be back together by Christmas,’ I say.
Patricia does a quick shake of her head, but I pretend I don’t see it. And Julie looks a bit unsure, a bit lost. I push her drink towards her and she smiles gratefully.
Time to turn my attention to Kirsty. I’m still not sure what’s happening with her but I think it’s got to be to do with the family she doesn’t see.
‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ I ask her.
She looks a bit shifty. ‘A sister,’ she says.
‘Oh, that’s nice, I always wanted a sister,’ I say. It’s not true. I was more than happy with Bill. ‘Do you see her much?’
‘No.’
I think she’ll go on but she doesn’t.
‘I always wanted a sister, too,’ Patricia says, and I know she found the silence awkward and had to fill it. ‘I’m an only child. What about you, Julie?’
I’m not expecting it but when I turn to Julie I see a world of pain in her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. Patricia is next to her, so she scoots her chair over a bit and puts an arm around Julie’s shoulder.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known it was a hard topic.’
Julie waves a hand. ‘It’s okay. But I can’t talk about it.’
It’s quiet, so I speak into the silence.
‘I think you know I had a brother, Bill. He died young. Sudden. Unexplained heart condition. Funny really, that he had something wrong with his heart and it broke all of ours.’
Kirsty covers my hand with hers, and I want to ask her how she can have a sister she doesn’t bother with. Here I am, still mourning my brother after sixty-odd years, and Patricia, with no siblings. And who knows what Julie’s story is, but it’s clearly upsetting.
‘You should try again,’ I say to Kirsty. ‘What if something happened to her, your sister? You might never forgive yourself.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she says.
‘And I can’t,’ Julie adds.
‘So let’s change the subject,’ Patricia says. ‘What’s the latest on Dot, Mabel?’
By nine o’clock, I’m shattered, and Patricia must notice because she says she’s ready to go and asks if I’d like to come with her. Julie’s had four cocktails and has spent the evening flitting between our table and Martin’s, and I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself.
‘Yes, I’m ready,’ I say, and then I turn to Kirsty and Julie. ‘You two stay longer, if you want to.’
They shake their heads.
‘I’ll be up at the crack of dawn with Dotty,’ Kirsty says, standing. She yawns, as if on cue, and covers her mouth like she’s terribly embarrassed.