It would be the kind of party I would never throw and
was seldom invited to. I looked at the
personalised invitation, tasteful and expensive looking; posh, Mum would have
said. I dropped it into the paper bin and went to make a cup of tea.
While it was brewing I opened my laptop, intending to
work. The page gleamed at me like a
Hollywood smile; come on, write on me then.
The words started to form but when I put them on the pearly whiteness
they seemed wrong, jumbled. I hit
delete.
The phone rang out shrilly and I almost dropped the
computer. I placed it down and went over
to the phone.
‘Hello?’
‘God, Mum, you always sound so worried. It’s only me.’
‘Helen. What’s
wrong?’
There’s nothing wrong.
It’s Boxing Day. I was wondering
if we could visit.’
‘Oh. Erm...well,
actually I’m on my way out.’
‘Really?’ Her voice
was full of scepticism.
‘Yes, actually. I’ve
been invited to George and Sheila’s party, and I’ve decided to go.’
‘You’re going to a party?’
‘Yes, I thought I would.’
‘It’s a fancy dress party.
Did you know that?’
I paused, wondering how far I could really stretch this
lie. Oh, what the hell. ‘Yes, I know.
I have a costume already.’
I could hear Helen’s voice saying to somebody ‘She’s going
to a fancy dress party!’ I heard Mark’s
soft laughter.
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