The Last Letter from Your Lover

up a plate of small eats, and prepared to hand it around.
    ‘Have one, Maureen.’
    Reggie’s twenty-one-year-old girlfriend barely registered that she had spoken. Immaculate in her rust-coloured wool dress, she was seated stiffly on a dining-chair, casting dark looks at the two people to her right, both of whom seemed oblivious to her. Jennifer was leaning back in the armchair, while Reggie perched neatly on the arm. He whispered something and they burst into peals of laughter.
    ‘Reggie?’ Maureen said. ‘Didn’t you say we were going into town to meet the others?’
    ‘Oh, they can wait,’ he said dismissively.
    ‘They were going to meet us in the Green Rooms, Bear. Half past seven, you said.’
    ‘Bear?’ Jenny, her laughter silenced, was staring at Reggie.
    ‘His nickname,’ said Yvonne, offering her the plate. ‘He was the most ridiculously hairy baby. My aunt said at first she thought she had given birth to one.’
    ‘Bear,’ Jenny repeated.
    ‘Yup. I’m irresistible. Soft. And never happier than when I’m tucked into bed . . .’ He raised an eyebrow, and leant closer to her.
    ‘Reggie, can I have a word?’
    ‘Not when you wear that face, dear cousin. Yvonne thinks I’m flirting with you, Jenny.’
    ‘Not just thinking it,’ said Maureen, coldly.
    ‘Oh, come on, Mo. Don’t be a bore.’ His voice, while still joking, held a note of irritation. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk to Jenny for far too long. We’re just catching up.’
    ‘Has it really been that long?’ Jennifer said innocently.
    ‘Oh, an age . . .’ he said fervently.
    Yvonne saw the girl’s face fall. ‘Maureen, darling, would you care to come and help me make some more drinks? Goodness only knows where my useless husband has gone.’
    ‘He’s just there. He—’
    ‘Come on, Maureen. Through here.’
    The girl followed her into the dining room and took the bottle of crème de menthe Yvonne handed her. She radiated impotent fury. ‘What does that woman think she’s doing? She’s married, isn’t she?’
    ‘Jennifer’s just . . . Oh, she doesn’t mean anything by it.’
    ‘She’s all over him! Look at her! How would she like it if I mooned at her husband like that?’
    Yvonne glanced into the living room where Larry, his face a mask of contained disapproval, was now sitting, only half listening to what Francis was saying. She probably wouldn’t notice, she thought.
    ‘I know she’s your friend, Yvonne, but as far as I’m concerned she’s an absolute bitch.’
    ‘Maureen, I know Reggie’s behaving badly, but you can’t speak like that about my friend. You have no idea what she’s gone through recently. Now, pass me that bottle, would you?’
    ‘And what about what she’s putting me through? It’s humiliating. Everyone knows I’m with Reggie, and she’s got him wrapped around her little finger.’
    ‘Jennifer had the most awful car crash. She’s not very long out of hospital. Like I said, she’s just letting her hair down a little.’
    ‘And her knickers with it.’
    ‘Mo . . .’
    ‘She’s drunk. And she’s ancient . How old must she be? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? My Reggie’s at least three years younger than she is.’
    Yvonne took a deep breath. She lit a cigarette, handed another to the girl and pulled the double doors closed behind her. ‘Mo—’
    ‘She’s a thief. She’s trying to steal him from me. I can see it, even if you can’t.’
    Yvonne lowered her voice. ‘You have to understand, Mo, darling, that there’s flirting and then there’s flirting. Reggie and Jenny are having a high old time together out there, but neither of them would ever think of cheating. They’re flirting, yes, but they’re doing it in a roomful of people, not attempting to hide it. If there was the slightest seriousness in it, do you really think she’d be like that in front of Larry?’ It sounded convincing, even to herself. ‘Darling girl, you will find, as you get older, that a bit of conversational parrying is part of life.’ She popped a cashew nut into her mouth. ‘It’s one of the great consolations for having to be married to one man for years and years.’
    The girl scowled, but deflated a little. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said. ‘But I still don’t think it’s a nice way for a lady to behave.’ She opened the doors and went back into the living room. Yvonne took a deep breath and followed her.
    The cocktails slid down as the conversation grew