Lesley had the best house. It was no surprise to any of them that she had ended up somewhere like that. Where theirs hunched shoulder-to-shoulder on crowded streets, or at the very most stood relatively proud amongst armies of near-identical architectural siblings, Lesley’s magnificent home sprawled unselfconsciously over its bountiful plot, free from suburban restriction, oblivious to neighbours and as luxuriant as any of their frenzied dreams might have created.

There was no envy. The girls all felt like a part of each of them was buried within Lesley’s success, and as such they belonged to its trappings every bit as much as she did. And, within such sprawl, quiet corners are easy to find, just as long as you know where to look. Even amidst the heady climactic throb of another fine party, Gemma and Lana had had no difficulty in ensconcing themselves.

‘…and I said to her, after all the shit of the last few years, that Faith now finally feels like she’s ready for a fling. And that’s when she said it. She actually said it!’

‘Said what?’ Lana demanded.

‘“Aren’t we all?”’ Gemma set her face at a slight angle like she always did when she delivered a bombshell. The only reasonable response to such an angle was awed silence.

‘She said that? Just like that?’

Gemma nodded, a knowing nod. Lana was delighted. This was perfect. She continued, careful not to get too carried away. ‘Do you think she actually meant it? Would she do it? I mean, we’ve been saying it for a while, but I never thought she’d actually come round to that way of thinking herself. What did she look like? Did she mean it?’

‘I reckon so,’ Gemma checked around them. There was nobody else. Most of these people didn’t even know about the back kitchen. It must have been an old stable. Even the door was an old stable door, and originally it would have opened onto a courtyard, although now it sat behind Lesley’s laundry and utility area. The bottom half of the door dragged on the uneven stone floor where the bolt didn’t sit snugly in its sheath. Lana shivered at the scraping noise every time. The top half, painted a warm olive green in contrast to the neglected ex-white of its lower counterpart, moved soundlessly and effortlessly like clouds across a summer sky.

‘Well, good for her,’ Lana decided, and leaned back into her customary corner of the old Chesterfield. She sipped her champagne. Or was it Prosecco? She could never really tell.

She could definitely tell about Selena and Ron, though. They were a match made in an accountants’ office: so much older than her, he even made the other girls seem like teenagers in comparison, and they had always looked upon her as the baby. But being older was one thing, and quite forgivable. Being a grouchy bore was quite another. Selena had always relished her position as the young and vibrant one, and lived effortlessly up to it, her natural station. If ever there was a queue for an unknown experience, she would be the one hopping around impatiently at its head. They loved her for it, and she loved them loving her. And yet here she was, somehow manacled to a dismal fuddy-duddy who knew how to count his pension, and did so with something approaching gusto. He knew, and advertised, the very date on which he would retire; increasingly less distant, increasingly more immediate and threatening. It must have been stifling for a spirit such as hers.

Selena was not, strictly speaking, one of them. They had all known each other since the first days at university, when they had roomed in the same halls. Five of them had become thick as thieves within days, and the friendship had lasted, although not without a few wobbles, until the moment, marginally less than ten years later, when Alice had dropped dead one filthy autumn day. An aneurism, it had been. As irrefutable as it was completely unpredictable and unforeseeable.

Alice had been the darling of the group. She was the one that boys noticed first, and no wonder. Silver-eyed and insouciantly immaculate, her lips, wider than average but never intimidating, were naturally turned up into a sincere smile. Everybody loved her from the moment they met her, and nobody close to her cared. They themselves adored her so much that they couldn’t begrudge her the perfection. Her sudden death had been the sort of extreme indescribable personal tragedy that had tested their bonds of friendship, but they had negotiated the period successfully, with a little help from an unexpected source.

And that source was now the subject of their middle-aged gossip. They had known all about Selena before, of course. She was Alice’s baby sister. Baby. Five years her junior, she had been mostly pubescently irrelevant when they had all first met. But she had always been around. Alice doted on her, naturally, and indulged her sister by allowing her all she ever wanted, which was mostly to spend time close to Alice and her friends. When tragedy struck, it seemed only natural that Selena step up to the role she had been understudying for so long.

Adopted, co-opted, integrated, whatever the right word, the younger girl had gone some way to plugging the yawning chasm in their lives and, if you skimmed the surface, you might be forgiven for assuming nothing much had changed at all. The sisters weren’t similar in many ways: Selena’s mouth, whilst upturned at the corners in the same way, was smaller and weaker than her sister’s, as was her chin, and her hair fell naturally asymmetrically in a way that Alice simply wouldn’t have allowed. But still she attracted attention in a similar fashion. The lure of naked personality that she shared with her sister, her innate predilection for the offbeat and bizarre made her equally compelling company. Lana had always held it to be a matter of the plainest fact that Selena simply required companionship and attention, and, as a result, was granted it in the quantities demanded. It was the only acceptable reaction of the humane society within which they moved.

And somehow, before anybody had noticed it, she had married Ron. The others supposed they had missed the warning signs amongst their own preoccupation. The last few years had been social and emotional mayhem for them. Each one had been married and then produced children, in strict order amongst each other, so there had been little time to dedicate to Selena’s mushrooming tragedy, even as it puffed up underneath them all. Nobody had even stopped to think about what might have been in store for the beautiful dead Alice, had she made it that far.

The wedding itself had been devoid of joy. Gemma had described it as ‘death by budget’, as Selena’s irrepressible joie de vivre steadily leaked away during the turgid festivities, despite her best efforts. It had been an unmistakeable stencil for the shape of things to come. Weeks and months passed and the signs crept in. Her taut cheeks, the guy ropes behind the effortless crescent-shaped mouth, started to sag imperceptibly. Selena noticed it first, and refused to panic, but took what practical steps she could to arrest the inevitable progression. Covert exercises promised much and delivered little. Surgery at such an early stage was discounted. For a while she made up for nature’s failings with manual intervention, but she was a chalk cliff fighting against the power of the tide. The effects of her futile desperation, both mental and physical, were devastating. Who would have thought that a forced smile could be so potent in its poison?

Ron had never really understood nor warmed to Selena’s girlfriends. The coven, as he would often refer to them. It was a lazy nickname which showcased more his lack of gumption than his disdain for the friendship. For the first few years, since their marriage had been so moodily consecrated, he had tolerated their predictable rounds of social fencing and conceit. He made no secret of the fact that he considered the whole charade juvenile and inconsequential, and he envied them all hugely, none more than the fabulously well-to-do Lesley and David. Their burgeoning wealth was like a constricting band around his very core, and he never came closer to genuine cardiac arrest than when in their company.

Bit by bit, in what Ron considered imperceptible graduations, he distanced himself from the whole disagreeable scene. He began by engineering plausible prior engagements when invitations came along. Soon, he found increasing opportunities to fly away on business, often further away than anybody else wanted to, and the problem of combining yet another polite declension with social originality melted away.

During that time, while Ron’s plan was chipping away at his unwanted responsibilities, the girls saw precious little of Selena, too. There were small murmurs of general concern, especially from Lana, who was more sensitive about that sort of thing and had a particular soft spot for the poor eviscerated girl, but it was so easy to put it all down to the pressures of everyday life. Nobody was immune: even Lesley couldn’t purchase enough manpower to exempt herself from the more fundamental vicissitudes of multiple motherhood; but Selena’s situation was in many ways worse than the others. Ron had not only successfully distanced himself from the coven, but he had also cast adrift his own wife. The trips on business began to run into the solitary social jaunts to which he had always been so committed, and which had continued unabated even since the arrival of his children. A growing family, to him, was a matter purely for Selena and her mother. The upshot was a couple of diverging lives.

Gone was the nose that sniffed out any fun lurking in the immediate area, the spring in her step that sprung her so fearlessly from one new experience to the next. Selena had become the inverse of her former self; a negative. When the girls did see her, it was a careworn and hollowed version of what they had been used to. None of them could bring themselves to halt the decline. Alice would have dealt with it, of course, but Alice was dead and her memory provoked guilt in them all for their abandonment of her baby sister.

Except for Lesley. Even if Alice had still been with them, it was undeniable that Lesley would have risen to the same matriarchal status. She was destined for it. Once she had found the right co-pilot, at the second attempt, in David, she had quite literally soared. And, duly installed, she made it her business to round up any strays: she refused to allow anybody even momentary escape from her clutches.

‘It’s David’s birthday, darling, and you will be there. I won’t hear any of your excuses. We haven’t seen you for so long, I’m starting to forget what you look like.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Lesley. Ron’s got to go back to Taiwan, and my mother’s just had an operation and she’s not even back on her feet yet. I’d love to see everyone but it’s just not a goer. Maybe we can have everybody round for a barbeque when the weather gets nicer?’

‘I’ve heard it all before,’ Lesley remained firm. ‘How about that brother of yours? It’s about time somebody gave you some time off. And don’t even talk about Ron. There’s absolutely no reason you can’t come by yourself. Bring the kids if you need to! We’ve got room for them too.’

The battle didn’t last long. Selena was too frazzled to put up any kind of a fight against an adversary as formidable as Lesley. Yet, by the time she had hung up, she felt more enthused than vanquished. In fact, she even sensed some tingling and a rising of something long forgotten.

Since that time, which had turned out to be a great success for both Selena and her hostess, she had regularly appeared at the old events, mostly at Lesley’s house, and mostly on her own. The others were delighted and relieved. Ron was incandescent. Selena was alive.

‘Yes, good for her,’ Lana repeated, this time with heartfelt gusto, as the reality of Selena’s pronouncement sunk in. She did mean it. Of course she did. It made total sense. ‘It’s no sin. It’s like she’s been abandoned. Cast into the undead, maritally-speaking. Why shouldn’t she do something about it? She deserves a bit of fun as much as anybody else.’

‘I can’t believe she got herself hitched up to him in the first place,’ Gemma wondered. ‘He’s not exactly her type, is he?’

‘Is he anyone’s type?’ Lana scoffed. ‘Such disdain for life. It can’t be healthy. And Selena, of all people….’

‘I know. She’s the one who ought to be out there enjoying herself. It’s a disgrace.’ Gemma thought of Ron for a minute and grew angrier. ‘God, I hate him. I hope she finds someone who can give her what she needs.’

‘Knock, knock, ladies!’ Hannah squeezed through the partly-blocked old stable door with a low scrape, letting the contented hum of the party in with her momentarily. She was clutching a bottle of bubbly. It was Prosecco, after all. ‘What are you two cooking up?’

‘Come in, pull that door as shut as it goes,’ Gemma moved over to the corner of the sofa as she spoke and made space. Hannah’s heels clicked unevenly across the floor and she had to stick close to the two giant chest freezers just to keep herself upright. She made it to the Chesterfield, sat down obediently and filled them up. ‘We’re sorting out Selena’s life for her,’ Gemma told her.

‘Mmmn, I’ve just seen her outside,’ Hannah spoke through a fizz of prosecco. ‘She looked a bit flushed. I think she’s had a few too many of these,’ and she brandished her almost-empty glass, before emptying and refilling it. ‘Not that I blame her. She’s got a night off. She ought to make the most of it.’

‘That’s exactly what we were saying,’ Gemma agreed. ‘But a bit more than a couple of drinks, if you know what we mean.’

Hannah had an idea, but Gemma and Lana spelled it out for her: Gemma told of the fling their friend had admitted to craving, and their considered and wholehearted support for such a course of action.

‘You mean, leave Ron? Now?’ Hannah gasped.

‘No. Not leave him,’ Lana corrected her. ‘Just, you know, have a bit of fun, to remind herself what fun is and what a great relationship she used to have with it, before he came along. Leaving him would make her life a nightmare.’

‘Doesn’t bear thinking about,’ Gemma added.

Hannah thought for a while. It wasn’t something she had considered until now, but the idea took root quickly in her imagination.

‘You know, I think you might be right,’ she said after finishing her thinking. ‘And I think it might be a perfect time for her. She’s started to look so much better recently. When she showed up that time to David’s birthday she’d obviously made an effort, but there was no spark about her. Like she’d been snuffed out. I thought she’d just been ground down by the drudgery and the coldness, didn’t expect her to come out of it well. But she’s back, I reckon. She’s looked fantastic at the last few dos. You could believe it’s her again.’

‘It’s true,’ Gemma said. ‘When I was speaking to her earlier, she had that old cheeky sparkle. In fact, I got the feeling she had something more interesting on her mind than listening to me banging on about my divorced friend trying to get back on the scene. She seemed a bit dreamy.’

‘That’s it, then!’ Lana asserted. ‘She’s ready. She’s got her old spirit back, or at least some of it. Enough to make her properly attractive again. She must have found a way to deal with the car crash of her life. It must help that Ron is away so often. You’d want someone like him out of your life as much as possible. And surely we can help her out a bit, find someone suitable? What about Jeremy, that works with David? He’s always flirting with her.’

‘He’s married,’ Gemma pointed out.

‘That doesn’t matter!’ Lana laughed. ‘So is Selena. Besides, his marriage is equally rubbish. Lesley told me. Apparently they sleep in separate rooms. He could be perfect.’

‘Doesn’t he have kids, too?’ asked Gemma.

‘Let’s ask Lesley about all the details,’ Hannah counselled. ‘We’ll need her for the selection committee anyway. I vote we start tomorrow. Once we’ve got a shortlist, we can run it past Selena. She’ll love it.’

The stable door edged open with a familiar grate. Lana’s skin tingled. This time, it was David’s head that appeared. ‘I thought I might find you lot in here. Les is looking for you. The karaoke’s coming out.’ He rolled his eyes. They moved slowly from the Chesterfield, pretending to not be excited. Gemma and Lana had to help Hannah up from the sagging middle, what with her hands full. ‘Where are your men, anyway?’ David asked. ‘Have you misplaced them again?’

‘They’re probably somewhere near the food, as far from the karaoke as possible,’ Lana smirked. She hadn’t seen Mitch since they had arrived.

She knew her husband well enough, though. Alongside the barbeque was a table, covered in Lesley’s pristine linen, held taut by clips at each corner. On the table, she had had arranged a feast of suitable accompaniments to the fruits of David’s grilling, which he had now completed, making sure to present the results in the precise configuration his precisely configured wife demanded. It was no hardship for him: his own manner was equally exacting. Behind the table a thin path ran away, arched by the sort of self-supporting wilderness that delighted and bewildered David, and the path led to a quiet natural arbour. David had furnished the space with a simple stone table and a few matching seats, suitably cushioned on nights like this. On those seats, around the greening table, close enough to the heartbeat of the party to borrow its light without being noticed, yet most definitely detached from the carefree buzz, one man cried while another listened. It was as favourite a spot for those boys as the back kitchen had become for their spouses.

Sid’s face sat amongst the dark foliage as immovably stony as the tabletop. Mitch wailed in genuine pain, then fell silent. He gathered himself a little.

‘It was supposed to be a one-off. If anything, she wanted it more than I did. Look at her. Look at what’s happened to her since that bastard got hold of her. It’s not right.’

‘You’re telling me it’s all for her own good?’ Sid prompted his friend.

‘It’s not like that. I thought it would be fine. A bit of harmless fun, you said.’

‘So where’s the problem?’

‘She’s taken control of me. I’ve forgotten I’m married. I’ve forgotten I’m a father. I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like I’m a teenager, desperate for her attention all the time. I’m going to get rumbled. I’ve never been this careless before.’

Sid stood up. As usual, the stone chairs weren’t very comfortable anyway, despite the efforts David had made with the cushions. They would have been expensive.

‘Just stay calm, Mitch,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t do anything stupid. Give yourself a bit of time to think about how this fits into your life. Consider Selena, consider Lana. They’ve got as much to lose as you have. And most importantly, put yourself in my shoes, in George’s. In David’s, for Christ’s sake. Now there really is someone with something to lose. And just look at the girl since she’s come out of her shell! She’s lost ten years. All the pain has run off. It’s what everyone wanted. It’s not your place to take that away from her. We’re all in this together. Do your duty for as long as it takes. It’s how things work. It could be a whole lot worse, let’s face it.’

Mitch shifted uneasily on the stone seat. It felt cold and hard, like stone always did. The cushion was plump, but there was no hiding the unforgiving slab underneath. The tabletop was far from perfectly flat, too. That had always bothered him. He normally kept hold of his drink rather than put it down on there. Tonight was no different.