Page 18 of The Second Chance Supper Club

Later, after quaffing far too much wine, the lid began to blow off Helen’s filter, and tales of Trevor became the focus of the conversation. So here it was, the moment Cath had feared: a tiddly Helen with unrequested stories of Trevor’s recent romantic antics now coming thick and fast.

She started on the new girlfriend Steph, Cath’s replacement: ‘Oh yes, we’ve met her a few times for the odd meal out … oh, and drinks at ours one night. Fairly attractive, just a bit younger than us, blonde, tall, an accountant.’ Well, that figured, it was obviously someone he worked with. Someone who hadn’t ‘wasted’ their maths degree on teaching – as Trevor had so often liked to remind Cath after her more stressful days in the classroom.

Then, the tales moved on to the recent waning of the romance, and then (another glass of pinot down) the lovers’ tiff. ‘Lovers’, oh good lord – just picturing Trevor, with his midriff overhang, flouncing about with his bit of stuff, made her feel downright queasy. Helen continued, oblivious, telling Cath that the couple had had ‘words’ apparently. Trev had confessed when he was round at their place last week, that the new woman had said he was a bit … (‘boring’, ‘of a fuckwit’ – Cath wanted to interject) … ‘clingy’ at times. ‘So, it’s not looking quite so rosy, right now. In fact, I think he might be regretting his rash move.’ Was that meant to cheer her up? Get her rushing back into her errant husband’s arms? Cath found herself increasingly irritable. ‘Well then, let him stew in his own mess. He certainly let me know I was surplus to requirements at the time, didn’t he?’ she said sourly. ‘So, there’s no point him running back with his tail between his legs, now it’s all going tits up with the new floozie.’ Cath also had had rather too much of the vino by now. Emotions were running high, and the conversation was running away with them. ‘Please, Helen, for god’s sake stop going on, will you? I really don’t want to hear any more about bloody Trevor.’ Helen was sensitive enough to look chastened. ‘Sorry, Cath.

I wasn’t thinking. I imagined you’d want to know the latest … but I can see I was wrong.’

‘Ah, it’s not you I’m annoyed with.’ Cath’s tone softened. ‘It’s him. And the car crash he’s made of our marriage. I thought we were good, solid. That we’d see in our old age together. But hey-ho, that wasn’t to be, was it?’

‘Yeah, I thought you were good together too,’ Helen agreed. ‘Kind of steady. Reliable. It’s shaken us all up seeing what’s happened. The group really doesn’t feel the same.’

‘Yes, I’m sure …’ There was a pause and then Cath confessed, ‘It still hurts you know. Far too much at times.’

‘Of course it will. It’s such early days. And I’m sorry again, for raking everything up …’ Her friend pulled an exaggeratedly forlorn face.

‘Ah, it’s okay. It’s Trev I need to punch, not you.’ Cath gave a wry smile. She didn’t need to be falling out with her old mates.

‘Still friends?’

Cath nodded, quietly confirming, ‘Yeah, still friends.’ ‘Thanks,’ Helen sighed. ‘And blimey, you really don’t know what’s around the corner in life, do you?’

‘Nope.’

‘Probably as well.’

‘Probably.’

And they gave their wine glasses a dull clunk.

The past felt stirred and shaken.

Chapter 14

The next morning, thankfully, started more relaxed, with coffee and croissants and lighter chat, after a bit of a lie-in – and a couple of much needed paracetamols. Cath really wasn’t used to drinking that much nowadays.

But then things began to shift …

‘Oh, damn, I forgot to pack any antihistamine,’ Helen announced, gesturing towards the window, the countryside around them. ‘My eyes are all itchy, and I bet it’s all that grass out there.’

Cath had noticed her friend’s red eyes this morning, but had put it down to excessive alcohol, which after finding the empty wine bottles on the side this morning, could well be partly the cause.

‘Oh, I really need some tablets. There’s a shop in the village, isn’t there?’

‘Yes, worth a try.’

They popped on trainers, Helen’s a spanking new white pair, and had a little wander to the village stores, in the fresh – or perhaps not quite so fresh – pig-muck-tainted air. The country walk Cath had imagined they might take this morning might not now go down too well. What with hay fever, white shoes, and muck-spreading smells aplenty, Cath tried to think of a Plan B.

The tinkle of the store bell, and the smiling faces of Andreas and Dan behind the counter greeted them.

‘Good morning, ladies.’

‘Hi, guys, this is my friend from Leeds, Helen.’

‘Hello, lovely. A friend of Cath’s is a friend of ours,’ said Andreas with a grin.

‘Welcome to our little shop, Helen. And how can we help you?’ followed up Dan.

Helen briefly scanned the shelves, without success. ‘Okay, so my eyes are starting to pour here, and I’m beginning to feel nasal. Where are your antihistamine tablets?’