Sue Fortin - The Birthday Girl - The gripping new psychological thriller full of shocking twists and lies

I give a small laugh into my glass as Andrea does a perfect imitation of Zoe, whose voice gets squeakier the more excited and enthusiastic she gets about anything. ‘It’s too late to change your mind,’ I say.

‘It would be awful if I was struck down with a stomach bug, though,’ says Andrea.

‘Don’t even think about it. We made a deal, remember?’

‘I might have been under the influence of alcohol when I did that one-for-all-and-all-for-one shit.’

‘You promised and you can’t break a promise. Not to one of your best friends. Besides, it’s my birthday too.’

‘I think that’s called blackmail.’

I laugh as I imagine the scowling look on Andrea’s face. ‘No, seriously, Andrea. You can’t back out now. Joanne will kill you.’

‘Hmm. When she said it was a surprise, I was hoping it would be more of a spa weekend. You know, fluffy white dressing gowns, manicures. Lots of pampering and relaxation.’

‘Look, like I said before, I think this is her way of making up for being so distant lately.’ In saying this, I silently acknowledge that I’m referring more to the way my own relationship with Joanne has been in recent times. We had once been so close, but things happened and the balance of our friendship shifted, leaving a hiatus in our alliance.

There’s a small silence while we both contemplate the sentiment of the weekend. Andrea speaks first. ‘I suppose I owe it to her. You know, give her a chance to make up for the way she’s been since I took on the gym.’

‘Is all that still going on between you two? I thought the dust had settled.’

‘Sort of. I’ve certainly drawn a line under it all, but not Joanne. I have this sense that she’s still angry at me. I can’t put my finger on it or explain it, but when I speak to her, it’s like an undercurrent of tension. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Mmm … I do.’ Andrea could be describing my own relationship with Joanne.

‘Anyway, as I say, I’ll give her a chance to make amends , but if she starts again, about having to work for me now instead of being a partner, I’m sorry, I won’t be keeping my mouth shut. Fortieth birthday or not.’

‘And when do you ever keep your mouth shut, my darling?’ I say.

‘I think I did once, in 1986 – I might be wrong though,’ says Andrea with a laugh. ‘Anyway, so now you’re not letting me skive off, we’d better sort out what’s happening tomorrow. Is Alfie still coming to mine for the weekend?’

‘He’s not in from college yet – five-a-side football, I think he said. But yes, he’s all good to come to you. He’s going to go home with Bradley. Are you sure Colin is up to this?’

‘Oh, he’ll be in his element. Takeaways and gaming. It’s totally a boy’s weekend.’

‘That’s kind of him. I appreciate it.’

‘Anytime. You know that. Although, I’m surprised Alfie’s not staying at Joanne’s, with Ruby and Oliver.’

I ignore the little drop my stomach gives at the mention of Joanne’s daughter. It’s the sort of weightless feeling you experience when the rollercoaster tips over the edge of the first big dip and it takes a few seconds for your internal organs to catch up with the fall. I’m used to that sensation. As sure as night follows day, I get that every time Ruby comes up in conversation. As always, I make a faultless recovery. ‘Fortunately, Tris is away this weekend too, so Ruby is going to stay with Joanne’s mother.’ I try to keep my tone neutral as my thoughts are thrown off course and on to a different trajectory. If my friends are the constellation by which I navigate life, then Ruby is the black hole whose gravitational pull is so great that nothing, not even light, can escape from being drawn in and swallowed up. I know. I’ve witnessed stars in my night sky pass the point of no return, the absolute horizon of the black hole, and disappear forever, while other stars are teetering around the edges, unwittingly being drawn closer and closer until it will be impossible to turn back.

I force myself to focus on the conversation. Andrea is talking about a film showing at the cinema that Colin might take the boys to see. I let her chatter on for a while, before the conversation comes to a natural halt and Andrea closes with, ‘Right, well, I’d better get on. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.’

‘Yep. See you then. Don’t let me down.’

‘When have I ever let you down?’

For some time after the call, I remain sitting at the kitchen table, looking at the invitation with Andrea’s words on repeat in my mind.

She’s never let me down. In my darkest hour, when Darren had committed suicide, she was there for me. ‘That’s what friends do,’ she had said once. ‘They look after each other.’

A sigh leaves my lips and I blink away thoughts of Darren to focus on the next four days. Despite my assurances to Andrea that it’s going to be a great weekend, my own doubts are beginning to surface. Perhaps I’m expecting too much by way of reconciliation. Can we honestly put everything behind us? Even if we want to, can we truly repair our fractured friendship or is it another black hole on the not-too-distant horizon?

How many times have you lied to yourself? I suspect you’ve lost count. You must lie to yourself every single day of your life. So much so that it trips off your tongue with ease; you probably even believe it yourself now. You may be able to fool everyone else, but you can’t fool me.

I hear the pity in people’s voices, I see the compassion in their eyes as they exchange knowing looks when they talk about you. I can’t tell you how much I loathe that. You are not deserving of their sympathy and yet, I can forgive them. You’ve been very careful in cultivating a false history, hiding behind the status of a grieving widow if friends come too close to the truth or show too much of an interest in your past and ask questions that could unpeel the layers of deceit you’ve created.

As Shakespeare said, ‘The truth will out.’ I have been extremely patient, waiting for the right moment to make you pay for what you’ve done. And now the time has come, I can hardly believe it’s here. My body trembles in anticipation and excitement at the prospect of the next few days. I have the power and I will get my revenge.

‘OK, Alfie, I’m heading off now,’ I say, popping my head round the door to my son’s room. I’m dismayed to see him still in bed. ‘Hadn’t you better be getting up?’

‘Don’t nag,’ comes a reply muffled by the duvet he pulls over his head.

I check my watch, I can’t afford to hang about any longer and without giving it too much consideration, I yank the end of Alfie’s cover, exposing his head and shoulders. ‘Come on, you need to get up now.’

‘Oi!’ Alfie sits up and snatches at his cover. ‘What did you do that for?’

‘To make you get up. You’ll be late for school. I need to go.’

‘I’m not stopping you. Go.’

‘Alfie! Get up. Now.’ I go to pull the cover again, but this time he’s prepared and holds it tightly around his shoulders.

‘Pack it in. Just piss off.’

I ignore his bad language. Some battles are not worth the fight. ‘Get out of bed,’ I insist.

I don’t expect him to move so fast but in a split second, Alfie has jumped out of bed and is standing directly in front of me. ‘I’m up now. All right?’ he snarls at me, his face inches from mine as I get the full force of his stale breath.

‘OK,’ I say, taking a step back, instantly wishing I had thought twice before going into battle. My heel hits the bottom of the bedroom door, which vibrates violently as the edge digs between my shoulder blades. I let out a small cry of pain.