R. J. Parker - The Dinner Party

‘My work colleague is seeing a counsellor at the moment,’ Evie continued. ‘She said that after twelve years of marriage she didn’t believe anyone outside of it was ever going to be able to help her.’

There was that ‘work colleague’ again. Ted wondered if she really existed. Evie was always advocating therapy, even though she and Jakob had had only a handful of sessions some years ago. They were a solid couple, but boredom was their enemy. Evie often looked for problems where there weren’t any. They should have had children; it had been talked about at one point, but Juliette said the subject was now strictly out of bounds.

‘He got them to play the trust game. It’s especially for couples who have been married longer than seven years.’

That described all of them. Kathryn and Rhys had had their tenth anniversary already and, as they’d all got married the same year, the rest of them would be celebrating this coming summer.

Orla and Connor had two girls, like Kathryn and Rhys. Ted didn’t know how they managed with more than one child. But they’d all felt overpowered by parenthood at various stages, experienced that deep fatigue and the night terrors about their children’s future. Probably because of the girls, Evie had made Orla and Connor her rescue project, and recently even Ted had become concerned about Connor.

Connor had always had a dour sense of humour, but over the past year there had been a marked change in his personality. The flippant glimmer in his eye had gone and he now seemed to go through social occasions with Orla on autopilot. But it was something Connor had said at a pub that had disturbed Ted. Connor had been bemoaning the relentless nature of parental commitments and Ted had responded with a platitude about trying to enjoy the kids when they were young because life was short. Connor had said:

‘Life’s short. But sometimes not short enough.’

It was vintage Connor, but without a trace of his usual playfulness. He just looked worn out. He was an investment broker and brought home a bigger salary than the other couples put together, but Ted guessed that juggling multiple stress balls at work and dealing with a crumbling marriage was the reason he was becoming increasingly withdrawn. Maybe Ted had been reading too much about suicide stats for men their age, but he’d been worried enough to mention it to Juliette. She said that Orla and Connor’s fights had stopped, but that seemed more troubling than anything else.

‘To any couple who feel they’ve amassed too much baggage, the game is designed to expunge guilt and wipe the slate clean for the sake of their futures.’

Ted’s eyes switched to Evie and back to Connor again. His friend’s face was impassive.

‘So what is the game?’ Juliette asked as she poured more red wine from the decanter into the empty glasses on the table.

Jakob nodded he’d have more. He’d just finished his third glass and his ruddy complexion held the tally. He’d already told Evie they’d be getting a cab.

‘Each person in a couple has to write down their deepest, darkest secret on a piece of paper, something that has happened since they took their vows – something they’ve never told their partner about.’ Evie checked their reactions again, gave it a beat to let the tension set in.

Nobody moved. Ted had been about to swallow but now didn’t want to fill the silence.

‘Then they fold the piece of paper, put it into an envelope and give it to their partner.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Jakob responded offhandedly and took a generous swig of his filled glass. ‘Already sounds dangerous.’

Evie turned to him. ‘If you have something to hide.’

‘What if they have nothing to hide?’ Rhys absently stroked his beard.

Evie ignored him. ‘It can be anything, minor or major. Then their partner, without opening the envelope, tells them that they forgive them and sets fire to it.’

‘What about the other’s envelope?’ Juliette filled her own glass.

‘They do the same. Say they forgive them and burn theirs too.’

Juliette’s eyes were fixed on pouring.

‘And what the hell does that achieve?’ Connor sounded bored.

‘It’s symbolic and it means they can move on. Whatever secret they had has been forgiven and destroyed by their partner.’

‘Without them knowing what it was,’ said Rhys warily.

‘It’s a declaration of faith in each other’s future together.’ Evie sipped her wine.

Connor leaned back in his chair. ‘Isn’t that like ten Hail Marys though? I mean, how often do you do this? Every week? Do I simply get Orla to absolve me every time I do something wrong?’

‘That’s already a full-time job.’ Orla didn’t look at him when she said it, just gently stroked the ornate tattoo of a blue-ringed octopus on her forearm.

‘Why do you assume you’re the only one who’s done wrong?’ Juliette asked Connor pointedly.

The three men were briefly tongue-tied.

‘It’s not like a laundry service.’ Evie fingered the stem of her glass. ‘You’re not taking this seriously.’

Was Juliette? Ted noticed she still hadn’t made eye contact with him.

‘And it’s one secret you write down?’ Rhys raised an eyebrow.

Evie sighed. ‘Yes.’

‘So nobody could do a job lot and get them all forgiven and burnt in one hit?’ Rhys glanced at Kathryn.

‘So what happened to just being honest and open with your wife?’ Connor seemed to regret the question before he’d finished asking it.

‘What indeed.’ Orla’s Northern Irish accent was suddenly very thick.

Jakob was shaking his head at his wine glass.

‘You’ve gone very quiet, darling,’ Evie observed.

‘Let people sort their own problems out,’ Jakob said quietly and took another glug of wine. ‘No need to spoil a nice evening.’

Evie frowned theatrically. ‘I’m just telling them about my work colleague.’

Jakob kept his nose in the glass, his eyes rolling.

‘I’d be happy to do it,’ Orla declared. She nodded as attention shifted to her. ‘Why not?’

Ted felt the atmosphere suddenly chill. ‘Nobody here is a qualified therapist.’ He shot a glance to Evie then Juliette, but both were looking at Orla. It felt like the evening was suddenly on shaky ground.

‘I’ll do it too,’ Kathryn proclaimed.

‘So you’ve already thought of something to write down?’ Rhys wasn’t smiling.

‘OK. Why don’t I get some pens and paper?’ Juliette was on her feet.

‘Wait.’

She fixed Ted blankly and it reminded him of how she looked at Georgie with dead-eyed patience when he threw a tantrum.

‘Not everyone’s comfortable with this.’

Juliette looked around the table and Ted followed suit. The other women were obviously keen on the idea. Connor leant back in his chair and languidly raised his hands.

‘Looks like we’ve been set up,’ he said with resignation. ‘We’re damned if we do, but we’re most certainly damned if we don’t.’

Jakob put down his empty glass. ‘Get the paper, if Evie wants to forgive me so badly.’

‘For what?’ Evie tried to read his features.

‘You’ll never know. Your game, remember?’

Ted knew that strait-laced Jakob wouldn’t have played.

‘OK then?’ Juliette smiled at Ted, as if to reassure him that the game wasn’t for them. But when she turned away, Ted saw it quickly vanish.

‘You didn’t have to think long either,’ Kathryn remarked icily and flattened her Mallen Streak to her forehead.

Rhys had his fingers cupped around the piece of paper he was scribbling on, his tongue protruding through his beard in concentration. ‘Ouch.’ He shook his aching hand. ‘Can’t remember the last time I had to write anything more than my signature.’ But still he hadn’t finished.