Toxic

            “Faye’s raving about the starter,” said Andy, dumping a stack of plates into the sink.

            “I was just about to strain the potatoes in there,” Emma wailed, “Just go and get some more wine.”  She was stressed.  Out of the blue Andy wants a dinner party for his new boss, Faye, and her husband, Ed.  Emma disliked Faye the moment she met her three months ago.  All tits and teeth, tall and attractive with long auburn hair and unshakeable self-confidence; one of those high achievers who turns on the charm to get her way, using her six inch heels to step on everyone on the way up.

            Andy was working later and later these days, and where had these overnight trips come from?  He’d never had to travel for work before; now she was left to ferry the kids to and from school, never mind the never-ending dance, soccer and swimming clubs, fitted around her job.

            “Ouch!” she sucked her finger after slicing herself chopping the parsley.  It wasn’t deep, and despite a desperate longing to rush to A&E and sit in delicious boredom for hours leaving Andy to manage the party and the kids bedtimes and getting tomorrow’s school bags sorted, uniforms ironed and lunches prepared, she put a plaster on the wound and carried on.

            Looking at the clock she emptied the sink then scraped the remains of the baked creamy garlic mushrooms into the food waste bin, including her own untouched portion; she didn’t like mushrooms much, especially if cooked with tarragon.  Not long to go, she observed, lifting a heavy pan from the hob and pouring the potatoes into a colander, steam clouding her spectacles.

            “The main course won’t take much more time, will it?”  Andy whined from the door, “Only Faye has asked me to go back to the office with her to finish off that risk report.”

            Has she now? thought Emma, screwing up her eyes, feeling like she’d been punched in the guts.  “I’m plating up, here, take these.”  She handed her husband two serving dishes of steaming vegetables giving her space free to carve the beef wellington.

            “Oh aren’t you the clever one,” Faye giggled over her shoulder, “I’m hopeless in the kitchen.  I leave it all to Ed.  Andy is one lucky man!”  She disappeared in a trail of expensive cologne leaving Emma to quietly seethe over the gravy.

#

            Emma stood on the back patio drawing deeply on a cigarette, hands trembling with fury.  The main course had gone well, compliments and gratitude blah blah blah!  The wine had flowed and even the usually silent Ed smiled and told her, “Top nosh!”  

            Plating up the dessert she’d heard some cackling and thumping overhead so tea towel over shoulder she’d sprinted to the foot of the stairs, calling, “You two, I hope you aren’t out of bed?”

            Someone, probably Andy, whispered too loudly, “You’ll wake the kids!” as he and Faye looking flushed peered over the landing at Emma.

            “Oh Emma, we’re so sorry,” Faye said, “Andy insisted on showing me your new bathroom.”

            Emma stomped into the kitchen, not caring if the kids threw a strop and brought the evening to a grinding halt.  

Andy sought her out, “What’s with the face?  I thought we agreed not to smoke in front of the kids.”

Emma couldn’t bring herself to even look at her husband, “You agreed, I didn’t.”

“What’s got into you?  This job is important, it wouldn’t hurt to show me some support now and again.”

Emma stared at his retreating back before taking the meringues from the fridge, dolloping whipped cream carelessly upon them, brandy soused caramelised peaches on top sprinkled with icing sugar.  Her mother had always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.  Emma disagreed; her husband’s heart was coupled to another organ.

            “Dessert,” she plonked the dishes down, rattling the cutlery, catching Faye smiling slyly at Andy, her fingertip touching his arm.  “So, you’re both going to be hard at it in the office again?”  She lit another cigarette and swigged the dregs of her glass, before topping it up.

            “It’s a busy time, financial reports, boring…” smiled Faye, “Gosh, you’re such a whiz in the kitchen Emma;  I can see why Andy carries a little weight.”

            “I thought it was a risk report you were working on?”  Emma tapped her ash into Andy’s glass.  “Hear that, Andy?  Your boss reckons you’re fat!”

            Crimson, Andy leaned across the table, hissing at Emma, “Why don’t you go and check on the kids?”

            “Couldn’t you and her have done it whilst she was admiring your plumbing?”  Emma pushed her chair back, stumbling a little, catching Faye dip her head to suppress a mocking grin.  Ed sat impassive, sipping water, more interested in the football results on his phone.

            “I think we’d better go,” snapped Andy, pushing past Emma in the hall-way, grabbing his jacket.

            “Shall I drive you?” Ed mumbled.  

            You had to give it to Ed, thought Emma, he was very calm given the circumstances.

            “Oh would you Edward, so kind,” simpered Faye, “saves me getting an Uber.”

            Andy opened the door, ushering Ed and Faye out, turning to Emma and saying in a low voice, “You’ve embarrassed me tonight, you’re not right in the head.  This house, the Mercedes, the kids’ education, holidays, you’d have none of if it wasn’t for me.  Think about that when you tell the kids how Mummy drove Daddy away.”

            Emma waited until the sound of the car was gone before coming back indoors to clear the table, cleaning and drying the glasses, crockery and cutlery in the dishwasher.  Surfaces polished, floors swept, the scent of Faye’s perfume fading with the windows open.

#

            It was nearly midnight when the beam from headlights swept across the bedroom curtains and she heard a car door slam and the front door open.  Lying in bed she took deep breaths, nervous, tired.  Footsteps on the stairs and the bedroom door opened a fraction.

            “You okay?” said the man’s voice.

            “I’m fine Ed,” said Emma, taking the man’s hand, bringing him shyly into her space, “Like you, I didn’t eat the mushrooms.”

END