R. J. Parker - The Dinner Party

‘You smell funny, Dad,’ Georgie said after he’d been tucked back in.

Ted had just kissed the side of his head. ‘It’s just grown-up drinks.’

‘Are your teeth black again?’ Georgie kept his eyes closed.

‘Probably.’ Ted wondered what was going on downstairs.

‘What time is it?’

‘Way past sleep time.’ Ted squinted at his watch. It was gone midnight. ‘We’ll be coming to bed soon.’

‘After you’ve finished playing your games?’

Ted paused. ‘Have you been listening?’ He knew Georgie frequently came halfway down the stairs to eavesdrop on the adults.

‘No. You’re just very loud. You woke me up.’

Ted was sure they hadn’t been making that much noise. The music was off, and Evie’s game had seen to the rest. ‘OK, we’ll try to be quieter. No more getting up though.’

‘Promise.’ Georgie shut his eyes tighter.

Ted paused at the door. ‘You’re not still worrying about your friends?’

‘No. Not thinking about them.’

But Ted guessed Georgie was telling him what he wanted to hear.

‘It’s wine o’clock.’ Georgie must have heard Juliette say that multiple times. ‘Go, Dad.’

‘OK, sleep tight.’ Ted pulled the door shut behind him, wondering if he should have stayed to talk. But this wasn’t the right time and he’d already said they’d discuss it in the morning.

As he made his way back down the stairs he could hear Rhys’s raucous laugh. Hopefully, that was a good sign. He tried to enter the dining room as calmly as possible, but the chatter instantly died down.

Juliette turned from the table as he approached, maternal concern overriding everything else. ‘Is he OK?’

‘Fine. Thought we were being a bit loud.’

Rhys exaggeratedly clapped his hand over his mouth.

Ted walked to his place at the table and sat. Filled his glass, took a sip and gazed around as if he’d forgotten exactly what they were in the middle of. He didn’t look directly at his envelope but could see the orange blur in front of Juliette.

‘I didn’t think you wanted anything else to drink.’ Juliette’s face resumed its earlier suspicion.

‘As everyone else has had a refill …’ He nodded at the others’ glasses. ‘Right. Us then,’ Ted sighed, as if it were a chore. Now he regarded the thankfully sealed envelope in front of Juliette.

Juliette took hold of the lighter and flicked up a flame. She didn’t touch the envelope though. ‘Sure you want me to do this?’ She held the glow at face height so that her blue eyes were either side of it.

Ted shrugged. ‘You didn’t steam it open while I was with Georgie?’ Rhys said something in response, but Ted didn’t hear it.

Juliette’s face remained unchanged, her pupils locked on his and suddenly they were the only two people in the room.

‘OK.’ Juliette eventually glanced down at the orange envelope, picked it up and held the lighter to it. ‘I forgive you.’ But she only looked at the paper as it went up.

Ted wondered how he should react. He was aware of himself slowly nodding, of his stomach muscles relaxing.

Juliette kept her eyes on the envelope as it shrivelled in the ashtray. She scrutinized its blackened form for a moment, as if waiting for something to happen, and then blew the ash into fragments. ‘There, gone.’

Tiny pieces briefly hovered above the table before coming to rest there.

Ted didn’t wait for her eyes to return to his. ‘OK, just yours left.’ He wouldn’t milk the moment as some of the others had.

She put the lighter on the side of the ashtray, gently pushed it over to him and sat back.

Ted took her lavender envelope in one hand and the lighter in the other, holding both over the ashtray. When he refocused on Juliette, however, he found an emotion on her face he hadn’t expected. He’d been anticipating disapproval, a portent of a heated conversation to come, but Ted saw something he rarely did. Juliette looked scared. It unnerved him.

‘I forgive you.’ Ted quickly lit the envelope, as if doing so would also incinerate the fear in her expression. The flames burned between them. He dropped it and as the veil of smoke cleared her countenance changed. She was taking in the other guests now, smiling for their benefit.

‘Any other games?’ Jakob ribbed Evie.

She shook her head, stony-faced.

Rhys chuckled. The atmosphere of the room washed back in, as if all the tension had been blown away, and Ted suddenly felt a chill from the open window behind him.

The guests started chatting again, all except Ted and Juliette.

‘OK, cheese and port now ?’ Connor asked impatiently.

Juliette nodded and started to rise.

‘I’ll get it.’ Ted stood faster. ‘I’ll shut this window now we’re done.’ He turned to the pane and sealed it against the darkness outside.

Strained conversation continued as he unwrapped the cheese behind the counter. He contemplated the ashtray on the table and wondered what unspoken moments hidden within four marriages had just been cremated. And even though they’d now been willingly reduced to ash, he was sure Evie’s game had given them more of a presence than they’d had before the eight of them had agreed to play.

Conversation was perfunctory as Ted and Juliette tidied after their guests had left. Even when most of the dishes were in the washer, the group’s unease still hung about the dining room. They decided to finish clearing up the following day. Juliette blew out the candles and they headed for the bedroom.

Ted listened at Georgie’s door to the sound of his heavy breathing. He nodded to Juliette that all was fine, and they padded into their room.

‘Have you made this year’s payment for the green collection bin yet?’ Juliette asked, as they both brushed their teeth, naked, in the en suite.

Ted sighed. He’d meant to do that a handful of times. ‘Sorry, remind me first thing.’

Juliette nodded but said nothing else, her toothbrush angled right to the back of her mouth and toothpaste foam running over her knuckles.

Ted was desperate to discuss Evie’s game. Wanted to reassure Juliette that the sudden apprehension between them was misplaced. He wished he’d put his foot down when Evie had suggested it. But Juliette had been more than OK about participating. Was that because she had nothing whatsoever to hide? But she had written something down. Was it significant or had she just scribbled something minor for the sake of joining in? And why had she looked so scared? They’d both forgiven each other, but now they would think of nothing else until they’d talked about it.

Even though he needed to, he knew this wasn’t the time. Besides, if he broached the subject he’d look even guiltier. He’d been too eager for her to burn his envelope and the whole table had noticed. He should have bided his time like Juliette.

She had a cooler head than him, could keep a secret when it mattered. She’d sprung surprise parties on him for his birthday and, when he’d thought back to the lies she’d calmly told to conceal them, he’d wondered if she’d ever used the same subterfuge to hide anything else. He was a hopeless liar. And maybe that was why she was acting like she was now.

Or was that to deflect her guilt? It seemed inconceivable that she’d been unfaithful to him. Did she still harbour doubts about his fidelity? She’d given him a hard time when they’d first started going out, got quite paranoid that he was seeing someone else. It had seemed like a huge compliment. He’d been so amazed that Juliette had even been interested in him at the time, so the idea she thought he was that in demand was a considerable boost to his self-esteem. That was when she’d tested him and sent him a valentine card from a girl she’d invented, to see if he would tell her about it. He did. He passed.