Plain Sailing

My eyes fly open as Margot’s honking laugh drowns out the hum of next door’s lawnmower.

“Hush, darling,” she giggles, glancing over her shoulder and pressing a finger to her lips. “She’ll hear…”

“Don’t be silly Margot,” shrieks Victoria. “She’s in a world of her own. Not that I blame her. I mean, who knows how any of us would react if…”

… If what Victoria?

My hands grip the sides of the chair, knuckles white, as she plucks another bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. My champagne.

“… if one of our husbands just upped and left,” she whispers, cracking her glass down and startling Marmaduke who’s snoozing beneath her chair. He yawns and arches his back, weaving between the wooden table legs and flopping into a shady spot by the apple tree.

“And he didn’t even say he was leaving,” says Jenny, her eyes wide and glittery above the lip of her champagne flute. “Just left a scribbled note by the kettle.”

“Indeed,” says Margot. “Talk about a bolt from the blue. No wonder she just sits on the patio and stares into space. Poor thing must be in shock.”

My cheeks burn and I drop my head. There’s no way I’m acknowledging I’ve heard every word, every whisper and silenced snigger. Let them think I’m away with the fairies.

I stretch my legs, my toes tracing circles on the warm paving stones, chinks of sunlight peeking through the trees and flickering across the patio. I shield my eyes and follow the curve of the valley as it slopes down to the river. Watching the sailboats dart and pirouette through the water allows me to forget about things for a moment.

Just for a moment.

I almost expect you to breeze through the front door, keys rattling in your pocket, jacket dangling over one shoulder. You never did seem to notice me hovering in the hallway as you kicked off your shoes and strode away, tap, tap tapping on your phone.

“What on earth do you think he saw in her?” barks Victoria, not even bothering to lower her voice as she nods her head in my direction.

“Darling,” snorts Margot. “You can’t say that…”

“… I can. Lachlan was such a catch. That smile, those wicked blue eyes. The only thing remarkable about Iris is that she’s completely unremarkable.”

I stiffen in my seat, a sharp pain squeezing my chest, driving the air from my lungs. I don’t need to look in the mirror to know what they mean, to know that they’re right. My eyes are an unremarkable shade of brown. And who’s going to look twice at my drab brown locks that curl limply at my collar.

Perhaps if I’d streaked my hair blonde, slathered myself in lotions and creams, then maybe you wouldn’t have been so dazzled by those other women. Perhaps.

“She should have made more of an effort,” says Jenny, smirking as Margot screeches in agreement, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

“It’s no wonder he strayed,” says Victoria. “She’s only got herself to blame.”

I clamp my eyes shut. I just wish they’d leave, drop the pretense that they’re here to support me. It was only you they wanted to see. They’d flock round, hanging on your every word, cackling at your jokes and clutching your arm…

“She’ll be completely lost without him,” says Margot. “I mean look at the poor thing now. She’s already gone to pieces.”

“She wasn’t much better before,” says Victoria, shaking her head. “Do you remember the last dinner party? It would’ve been an absolute disaster if Lachlan hadn’t stepped in and taken charge.”

Jenny splutters, champagne spurting out of her nose: “She really is quite useless.”

Useless.

And let’s be honest, that’s how you saw me too. Perhaps not at first, but after years of marriage I suppose I became as predictable and insipid as the cornflakes you had each morning for breakfast.

I’m surprised you were even listening when I suggested building a patio at the end of the garden, how lovely it would be to sit together in the evenings and share a glass or two of wine as the sun vanished below the horizon.

“A what?” you said, lowering your phone, top lip curled, eyes narrowed. “If you want a patio then you’ll have to build it.” And then you’d sniggered like I had more chance of flying to the moon.

But I launched myself into the project, spent weeks researching how to prepare and level the ground, even checking with the nice man at the store that I’d selected the right type of paving slab. It was hard work, but I can’t tell you how good it felt to have accomplished something.

My newfound confidence wavered though as I watched you stomp across the lawn, jaw clenched, fists bunched.

“What’s this Iris?” you snapped as you appeared at my side. “Why have you dug a huge hole instead of…”

… I do wish you could have seen the look on your face when I spun round and whacked you with the shovel. You only had time to raise your hand before you toppled backwards into the pit. I waited a moment or two, just to make sure you weren’t moving, and then I set to work.

I was right though. This patio really is the perfect spot to quaff a bottle of fizz and watch the sailboats dance and swirl through the waves. It’s such a pity that you won’t get to enjoy it, although I guess in some way, you’ll always be a part of it…

I startle as someone pats my shoulder, my eyes flying open as Margot’s honking laugh drowns out the hum of next door’s lawnmower.

“Iris. Iris are you okay? Would you like another cup of tea?” she bellows, smirking and tapping the side of her head as she glances at the others on the terrace.

“Actually, Margot,” I smile. “I’d kill for a glass of champagne.”