‘Friends!’ Eddy’s laughing, folding them both into his big arms, pulling them close, smacking his lips to their foreheads like they’re his grown children who have at last come home. ‘Thank God you’re here.’
Eddy keeps his hand on the back of Seb’s neck as Anna hurries pink-faced towards them from the kitchen, lifting an apron over her blonde head. Her feet are bare and her arms – just like Eddy’s – are open wide to Rosie.
‘Hi, loves!’ she squeals like she hadn’t seen them both only yesterday at the school gates.
Rosie bends down towards Anna but as they hug, one of Anna’s dangly gold earrings catches in Rosie’s hair. ‘Ow!’
They release each other quickly, Rosie touching the top of her head.
‘Oh God, sorry! Bloody things!’ Anna says, pulling a few strands of dark hair from the complicated hoops.
Rosie shakes her apology away, keen to move on from the awkwardness, and reaches for Anna’s hand. ‘That dress looks fab on you.’
Seb looks at his wife, his gorgeous, kind wife. She is next to Anna who is now on tiptoes, twisting her curvy hips from side to side, showing off her fitted black dress, delighted, and Seb marvels at Rosie’s apparent ease in giving others what they need.
‘Thanks. Spanx are the best,’ Anna says, snapping the elastic under her dress, before turning to Seb, opening her arms again.
‘Sebbo!’ She pulls him down firmly towards her. She smells warm, of spices simmering in a stew. Eddy and Anna have been together for twenty years, and Seb’s known her for longer than he’s known Rosie. Although he feels brotherly towards her, he will always find a reason to pop out into the garden when Anna gets too much. Eddy can be similar. Seb often finds himself missing easy shots on the tennis court because he’s zoned out of Eddy’s constant chatter. Releasing him from her grip, Anna starts telling Seb about their cat leaving a bird’s decapitated head on the kitchen table. Meanwhile Eddy takes Rosie’s coat with a twinkle in his eye, a telltale sign that he is already at least two drinks down, and ushers her into the sitting room.
‘Oh wow!’ Rosie starts laughing as soon as she enters the room. It’s a blurt of a laugh, uncontrolled, one of Seb’s favourites.
Seb follows a couple of paces behind and starts laughing with Rosie. The room is plastered with photos of Eddy. The same extreme close-up of Eddy’s grinning, bearded face has been stuck up on the walls, over the fireplace and is even dangling from the lampshade over the large, carefully set dining table.
‘Welcome to heaven,’ Eddy says, raising his hands, grinning widely as Anna starts passing around champagne flutes.
‘Jesus. I had a nightmare like this once,’ Seb says, turning around the room slowly.
‘Ha!’ Eddy laughs, his palm reaching to stroke Anna’s bottom as she passes.
‘It was my idea,’ Anna says to Rosie, whose favour, even after all these years, she still seeks out. ‘He’s always prattling on about not getting enough attention, so …’ Anna gestures at the room as though this should be enough to satisfy any attention deficit.
Seb glances at Rosie. ‘See?’ he wants to say. ‘See? It’s not just us!’
Rosie’s holding out her glass to Eddy, who is pouring sparkling wine too fast, the bubbles foaming up and over, wetting her hand. She licks the rim of her glass to stop it spilling to the floor. Seb watches her tongue flick and where he would once have felt a snap of desire, he now just feels a dull thud. But Eddy’s turned, proffering the bottle towards Seb, so he keeps smiling as he offers up his own glass. When all their glasses are full, they lift them in a high salute as Seb says, ‘To Eddy!’
They turn to each other, carefully making eye contact with each member of their group, clinking glasses and chorusing, ‘To Eddy!’
When the other couples arrive soon after, there’s more kissing, more whoops of surprise, more drinks handed around. Seb doesn’t like the start of these things – the high-pitched greetings, the charge of nervous anticipation as everyone attempts to adapt to each other again.
He falls into conversation with Patrick, a friendly, enthusiastic man with a daughter at Seb’s school, married to the officious and slightly intimidating Vita. They talk about the local tennis club and the plans for resurfacing the older courts. Changing the subject, Patrick asks, ‘So, how does it feel being at the helm?’
Seb became headmaster at Waverly Community Secondary School three weeks ago, at the beginning of the autumn term. It’s what he’s wanted since he was a kid. Back then, Eddy laughed at him and told him to keep it quiet, because what kind of geek wanted to be a head teacher at twelve? Far better, Eddy said, to want to be an astronaut.
Now, whenever anyone asks about his job, Seb feels a lightness in his chest, a sense of pride.
‘Yeah, it’s good. I’m enjoying it. I mean, it’s obviously a big shift from teaching to doing a load more managerial stuff …’
‘That’s great, really great,’ Patrick says, his gaze sliding over to the women. ‘Essie loves school, you know. Adores it.’