Anna sometimes wondered why she’d always treated Martin and Sarah with such deference. Whenever they’d invited her to one of their dinner-parties she’d always cancelled her plans to be there and paid for other people to look after her mother and for the journey to London. The events themselves had often seemed to be a bit of an anticlimax. She usually stayed in her school friend’s little flat at the end of the central line from which it was a long but convenient journey to Martin and Susan’s duplex apartment in Notting Hill. Afterwards, during the long tube ride back to Woodford, she always found herself going over the evening in her mind and worrying about the impression she had made on the other guests. They tended to be either wealthy entrepreneurs who were associates of Sarah, or artsy cinematographers who Martin knew through his work as a director. Of course, these people were polite to her, but she always felt that she bored them. Also, whilst she’d never actually lied during conversations over rustic Italian dishes served with a good chianti, Anna was conscious that she had let the others assume wrongly that she was a successful businesswoman.
She didn’t in fact own the clothes shop where she worked. She would have loved to, but after university, where she’d met the charismatic Martin and the serious Sarah, she’d gone back home to live with her parents so that she could carry on with her textile art. After her father died suddenly and her mother began to act erratically, she’d managed to obtain a part-time role at a family friend’s dress shop, ‘Fine and Dandy’. From there she had segued almost seamlessly into being her mother’s carer. After university, Martin and Sarah had moved to London separately and built up their careers in finance and film - making quite independently, before meeting again, moving in together and eventually marrying. Perhaps it was a sentimental gesture on their part, but they seemed to like to keep in touch with Anna. She sometimes thought they regarded her as a kind of talisman, connecting them back to their younger days when Martin was still enthused by all things cinematic, and Sarah was determined to pursue her dream of financial independence. They never seemed that curious about how her life had turned out. She wondered sometimes whether they even remembered how brightly she had once dressed as an art student, or her eye for colour and design?
Sarah and Martin had never shown any interest in visiting the midlands town where Anna lived. She’d never invited them there either, of course. She did not want them poking around in the small world she had created for herself and passing judgement on its inadequacies. This meant that she was puzzled as well as surprised when Sarah messaged her to say that they would be coming to Fernham and would love to see her whilst they were in town. Deconstructing the message, Anne was acutely aware that Sarah had not suggested she came to dinner with them at their hotel. She felt obliged to invite them to her flat for a meal and Sarah accepted with alacrity.
For several weeks before their visit, Anna mulled over what kind of food to cook before deciding to play it safe with a French style casserole and crème brulé. Then she chewed over the question of who else, if anyone, to invite. Her table only had comfortable seating space for four people. Inevitably, her thoughts turned towards the new man in her life, Nigel. She had met him first when he came to talk about funeral planning at the care home where her mother had spent her last few months. Their paths had crossed again at the wedding of a mutual friend, and then he had turned up at her choir and she had been struck again by his youthful physique and by his kind eyes. They had been going out with some of the other singers for a meal or a drink after rehearsals for the last few months. Yes, he would be a good choice as a foil to Sarah and Martin: a businessman, though artistic in his love of baroque music. He was also gentle and stoic, perhaps partly because of his work. If she was completely honest, she was curious to see how her old friends might react when they asked him what he did for a living and he told them that he was an undertaker.
Nigel had seemed pleased to be invited. He was already there and chatting to Anna at the kitchen counter when Sarah and Martin arrived with champagne to go with the desert. Despite her slight nervousness, Anna enjoyed giving them a brief tour of her flat. It might have been small, but she knew that its vibrancy reflected her love of colour. She had hand made the soft furnishings to incorporate motifs that reflected her personality. Embroidered musical notes played their way across the curved patches of ruby red and emerald- green felts she’d sewn on to creamy textiles. She felt relaxed and, in her element, now, wearing the charity shop green beaded necklace and bulbous red earrings which she remembered Martin admiring so much in their university days. Sarah seemed genuinely appreciative, if a little distracted, whilst Martin did not seem to notice her jewellery. He quickly insisted on popping out to the local shop to buy an extra bottle of wine to complement the beef they would be eating. Nigel, affable as ever, agreed to go with him to show him the way.
As she turned from the door after seeing them off, Anna noticed that Sarah was crying. Shocked, she found herself instinctively putting an arm round the friend she had always found rather prickly and private and asking her to tell her what the matter was. Sarah confided that Martin, for all his apparent bonhomie, had begun to treat her unkindly. Nowadays, he watched Sarah’s every move and was constantly critical of her behaviour. He was particularly resentful of the long hours she spent working to ensure their comfortable lifestyle. That was why Sarah had suggested a trip to see Anna and to get them away from the pressures of their London life for a weekend. Aware that Martin and Nigel would soon be back, Anna reassured Sarah as much as she could. The two women were standing together at the work surface, chopping herbs and arranging olives in a bowl when the men returned carrying a classy St-Emilion.
Things began calmly with the meal. The food was delicious, and they stayed on sure ground with the conversation, reminiscing to Nigel about bands they had been to see at university. Anna even allowed herself a moment of quiet pride about how well the evening was going, despite Sarah’s concerns about Martin. It was just at that moment that Martin’s mood seemed to pivot. He leaned forward to top up his wine and told Anna in a quiet voice that the necklace and earrings still looked great, but that she didn’t. After all, hadn’t she wasted her life in this shitty little no man’s land of a town?
It took Anna a moment to react to what he had said. She did not feel embarrassed, only angry. She too spoke in a quiet voice. How dare he pass judgement on her? Who was he to tell her she was a failure when she, at least, was still content with her life? She heard Sarah agreeing with her whilst Nigel, still quiet, took her hand and squeezed it in support.
Now Martin was on his feet and laughing at all of them.
‘That’s so funny coming from you bunch of losers.’
He was almost shouting now as he gesticulated.
‘Look at the three of you! Underachieving Anna the failed artist, my wife the obsessive, possessive work addict. Oo and then look at who has joined us. The clown, “Nice Nigel” the small-town undertaker … Oh yes Nigel and I have had quite a chat about that whilst we were out.’ Martin paused as if for dramatic effect. Then he turned, grabbed his jacket and left, slamming the door behind him.
In the silence that followed, Anna noticed that Nigel had placed his other hand on Sarah’s. Anna reached across the table to do the same. They sat there, companionably, for a few moments, Anna noting Nigel’s calm and Sarah’s vulnerability. Then they opened the champagne and toasted, ‘Friendship and the Future’. Even so they would have been surprised to know that in a year’s time all three of them would still be together in Middleham. Nigel and Anna would be living together; Anna and Sarah would be the joint owners of ‘Fine and Dandy’ where Anna worked and Sarah lived in some style above the shop. She’d quit her job in the city.
Martin, in the meantime had also moved on. He’d jettisoned the idea he’d been developing which had focussed on a group of forty something friends meeting up in a nondescript midlands’ town. It was rumoured that his new project would follow the fortunes of a middle-aged film director as he tried to create a homage to magical realism amongst the Mayan remains of Mexico. Word also had it that the results would not chime well with a younger audience. The film could never be the success he’d anticipated.
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