‘Shall we try out that mulled wine cart we spotted earlier?’ Joyce asked.
Erin grinned. ‘I’m up for that.’
I opened my mouth to explain I was ready for home but before I could answer, Erin had linked arms with both me and Joyce, and we were on our way.
The cart’s line of customers was longer than I’d hoped and unable to face another queue, I spotted a vacant table. ‘Shall I snag that before someone else does?’
‘Go ahead,’ Erin replied. ‘We’ll get the drinks.’
Heading over, I placed my bags down and took a seat. Glad to be off my aching feet at last, I breathed a sigh of relief. I savoured the aroma oforanges, cloves, cinnamon and red wine that floated on the air. The cart vendor, wearing a hoodie under his padded jacket to stave off the cold, sang along to the Christmas carols being piped through the city centre’s speaker system. As I watched him, I shivered in the cold, my body shaking in harmony with the music.
A little boy giggled as he ran by, quickly followed by a man whom, going off his likeness and exasperated expression, I assumed to be the boy’s father. They headed towards the square’s nativity scene, where a gathering oohed and aahed over baby Jesus. I observed couples holding hands, some snuggling close as they admired shop windows, while teenagers congregated in groups. Women flitted from one store to another as if determined to get a head start on their gift shopping. All against a backdrop of Christmas lights and festive displays.
Erin and Joyce pulled me out of my reverie when they finally landed, bringing with them three lots of mulled wine and a plate of mince pies.
While they got themselves comfortable, I reached for a hot mug, and wrapping my hands around it, took a sip. ‘Perfect,’ I said, as the soothing liquid warmed my insides.
‘Don’t get too comfortable,’ Erin said. ‘We might not be finished yet.’ She delved into her handbag and pulling out a to-do list, began to read. ‘Tell me, when’s your Christmas tree coming?’
‘Tomorrow,’ I replied.
Erin mumbled to herself, as if placing a mental tick next to each item she noted. She looked from the list to Joyce and me with a satisfied smile. ‘Our work is done.’ Erin lifted her mug for us all to celebrate with a ceramic clink. ‘Cheers, ladies. We have achieved our objectives.’
‘I’m still not convinced all this is necessary,’ I said, gesturing to the shopping bags at my feet. ‘It feels a bit manipulative, like I’m toying with Gideon. As if our relationship’s some sort of game.’
‘Get used to it,’ Joyce said. ‘In my experience, it’s a case of needs must.’
‘Mine too.’ Erin scowled. ‘Unfortunately.’
‘Take tonight,’ Joyce said. ‘As far as Richard’s concerned, we’re both round at yours learning how to Jacob’s ladder.’
The fact Joyce had even heard of that crochet stitch was impressive.
‘Am I lying to my husband?’ Joyce asked. ‘Definitely. But do I have good reason? Yes, I do.’
I narrowed my eyes, unconvinced.
‘Look at it this way,’ Joyce carried on. ‘That one white lie isn’t just saving my sanity; it’s keeping me out of either the divorce court or prison. And for that alone, it’s worth it.’ She bit into a mince pie. ‘Richard benefits in that he gets to keep his life and his wife. And I get time to myself.’ She shrugged, evidently guilt free. ‘It’s a win-win for both of us.’
‘But aren’t you worried he’ll find out?’ I asked. ‘And feel betrayed?’
‘Who’s going to tell him?’
‘He must’ve noticed you’re not actually doing any crocheting?’
‘One step ahead of you,’ Joyce said. ‘You know that cardigan you had on display that I just couldn’t live without? And the lovely green cushion cover with the raspberry flower design?’
My eyes widened. ‘You didn’t tell him you made them?’
‘I did.’ Joyce grinned. ‘And I don’t feel bad about that either.’
I had to admire her ingenuity.
‘Remember, most people lie to their spouses because they’re playing away. I’m the opposite. I’m doing it to keep us together. I could never do to Richard what Gloria Chalmers’s husband did to her.’ She pondered a moment. ‘Thinking about it, you could learn a lot from that woman, Hattie.’
‘Like what?’ The only thing I knew about Gloria was that she taught at Settledown primary school, and I liked to think I was more intellectually advanced than that.
Joyce took a sip of mulled wine and got herself comfortable. ‘Just like Gideon, her husband suddenly started working extra-long hours. And like you, Gloria thought nothing of it.’
