The Dinner Party by Rebecca Heath

Author:Rebecca Heath [Heath, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781804546079
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

THAT NIGHT

9.37 p.m. – Barb

‘Dance?’

Ken’s single-word question snakes across the air between us, slithering, dripping with poison as he holds out a hand to me.

No.

The answer vibrates through me, begging for release. To be screamed so that it would shatter the glass of the fancy imported wine bottle he was just showing Larry.

My darling Larry who, bless him, is bobbing along with the music, each movement half a beat out of time. He catches my eye, gives an encouraging smile. ‘Go on, love,’ he whispers, slurring the words together, eyes out of focus. ‘Don’t be shy.’

Oh, Larry, if you only knew.

‘Remember, we once danced to this back in the day?’ Ken taunts, his gaze swinging from me to Larry, the threat hardly subtle. Wanting to remind everyone we have history.

I feel Trish’s gaze and wonder, sweating anew, how much he’s told her and more importantly whether she’ll tell Larry. Given everything with the bank and the credit cards, he’s already struggling. Like last week, buying some stupid new lawnmower to keep up with Ray’s.

My fingers twist the top button of my blouse. The one chosen because Larry mentioned he liked the pattern in the catalogue. Spoiled by Gloria’s not-so-innocent observation of having seen our ancient neighbour, Mildred, in one just like it when we arrived.

I stand. My skirt has ridden up. Stuck to the rounded flesh of my thighs in the heat. The sweat from the heat and the wine like glue on fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. Each dimple revealed for eyes hungry for ammunition for weaponed tongues.

‘Love to.’ The lie falls easily from my lips and I wonder when the little girl who sat front pew in church learned the ways of the devil so well. I’ve had to since – in this case – the devil, who could ruin everything, lives just next door.

I stop, close enough to touch, and I don’t fight when he pulls me against him.

Ken’s hand when it takes mine is dry, and I know he feels the dampness on my palm. I see his eyes crinkle at the corners. Nothing he loves more than a game.

The heavy pulse of the music is excuse enough to hold me close. ‘Remember how this feels?’ he whispers so his hot breath tickles my ear.

The bare skin on my throat burns, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of answering.

Larry is still smiling along with everyone else, but his eyes are bloodshot and uncertain. He’s drained his glass of wine without his gaze leaving me and Ken, moving on the shag rug in perfect sync. He knows there’s something happening here; he just doesn’t know what.

Ken’s smirking. He jerks his head at Trish. ‘Dance with Larry.’

Of course, she does as she’s told.

And when Larry, encouraged by Ken’s hands on me, lets his hands wander across younger, firmer hips than mine, I laugh along.

We’re all having such a good time.

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