Page 60 of The Three of Us

‘Carly!’ He touches her on the arm.

She turns slowly. There is something in her expression that makes it obvious that seeing him here is no surprise.

‘Hello, Jack. I wondered if you might turn up.’ She forces a smile.

‘Well, I probably won’t stop long. I felt I should look in, you know. For Syd.’

‘Don’t leave early on my account.’

‘No, no, I wouldn’t.’ He lowers his voice. ‘Look, Carly, we’re okay now, aren’t we? Friends? We did say that we can’t avoid each other, what with work…’

‘Yes, but I didn’t realise that would mean having to meet your wife. Your pregnant wife.’ Her cheeks have gone red. He’s not sure if it’s the warmth of the room, or embarrassment. For a moment, he thinks she might be about to cry.

‘Oh. I’m sorry. Have you…?’

‘Outside. I didn’t know who she was at first. Too stupid to put two and two together.’

‘I’m sorry, Carly. Really.’

‘Yes, you said that already. But there we are, it’s done now, and she doesn’t know who I am, or anything about me, so no harm done.’

‘No, I suppose not. I will do my best to keep you apart though, assuming that’s what you want?’

‘Of course it’s what I bloody want. But when has that ever mattered to you, Jack? Now, I suggest you get whatever it is you’ve come for and go back out to be with your wife. I’ll see you at work as usual.’

‘Right. Of course.’ He reaches for a paper plate and piles it with whatever is nearest. Carly’s tone worries him. Her voice seems to have gone up an octave and she’s giving him that woman scorned look that could so easily lead to trouble. She wouldn’t, would she? Say something to Molly, something to bring it all out into the open? Whatever she’s said about them staying friends, he is not totally sure he can trust her. Not now she’s been confronted with the enemy. Is that the right word? Hopefully not. Her rival, at least.

‘Everything all right, Carly?’ Daz has stopped talking long enough to notice that the atmosphere has changed. He’s turned away from Suze and is looking at Carly now. Looking at her as if he fancies her, which he very likely does. Carly is a beautiful girl. She deserves to be fancied, loved… to be happy.

Jack turns away, balancing the plate of food in one hand as he pushes through the throng in search of Molly’s Coke.

‘Cutting the cake in five minutes!’ Rosie calls, to anyone who might be near enough to hear her, and Jack sees a couple of people reaching for their phones, ready to get the best position for a photo.

When Jack comes back through from the kitchen, Daz has guided Carly to a couple of chairs next to the wall and is topping up her glass from a bottle of champagne. Where did he get that from, the smooth sod? They don’t look his way at all as he steps outside and shivers in the chilly late-afternoon air. He’d better tell Molly about the cake cutting. It’s what she really wants to see and the only reason they’re still here. At least he knows where Carly is sitting now, so he can aim for the other side of the room. And then get them both out of here as quickly as possible, before there’s any chance of trouble.

‘This is egg. I asked for tuna!’ Molly says, eyeing the mound of randomly selected food with suspicion, and Jack finds himself saying he’s sorry again. It’s starting to become a habit.

Chapter 35

Carly

Daz is all right. I’d thought he was a bit loud at first, a bit too full of himself, but he’s funny, and he’s kind, and he’s definitely flirting with me. It’s good to be with a man who isn’t trying too hard, isn’t riddled with guilt and indecision, isn’t married to somebody else.

Suze and Sean have moved off in search of beer, or somewhere to sit, maybe even back upstairs for a private snog. I’m still not convinced they were only up there trying to fix a button, or exactly what it was that had made it ping off in the first place. Since the surprise engagement they’ve become embarrassingly touchy-feely. But being left alone with a good-looking Aussie isn’t such a bad thing, and I quite fancy a bit of touchy-feely myself. The last attempt had not ended well.

I laugh when Daz whips out a bottle of chilled champagne from a cool bag he’s hidden under the table. How long has that been there? And why? He discreetly pops the cork, smothering it in the trailing edge of Rosie’s best tablecloth to muffle the sound.

I watch Jack go scuttling back to her outside, and I try my hardest to forget he was ever here. Easier said than done.

‘Can’t have a celebration without some bubbly,’ Daz says, oblivious to my discomfort, producing two plastic glasses and pouring us a good-size measure each. I take a sip. It’s still deliciously cold. Daz struggles to reinsert the cork and fails, so he slips the upright bottle back into its camouflage bag and props it against the wall to stop it from falling over.

‘Won’t there be some later, for the babies?’

‘Babies don’t drink alcohol, Carly,’ he says, trying to keep a serious face. ‘Second-hand maybe, via Rosie’s boob if she’s been at the booze, but generally they prefer milk.’

‘I know that.’ I giggle, swiping at his arm and almost spilling his drink. ‘I meant that Syd might open a bottle later, for everyone to toast the babies.’

‘You can’t toast babies, Carly,’ he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye again. ‘Too wide. They’d get stuck in the toaster.’