The early arrivals were a Commander Dawson and his wife Bette, a well-dressed couple in their mid-thirties who radiated curiosity, looking at me, the food, the house, our fixtures and fittings with such avid eyes, I wondered if they’d try to sell it on the home-shopping channel.
Then four people arrived together: two single officers and a couple called the Bennetts who were friendly and easy-going, greeting me kindly and ooh-ing and ah-ing over the food.
By the time Donna and Johan arrived, the house was filling up and people spilled out into the yard, the pleasant hum of chat drifting on the summer air.
“Darling Caroline. You look beautiful, as always,” said Donna, kissing me on the cheek and holding my hands. “It’s so good of you to have everyone over so soon after moving in.”
I felt she was trying to convey some sort of message with her words, but I just smiled and nodded, and accepted a quick peck from Johan, whose eyes were fixed expectantly on the buffet.
Donna hooked her arm through mine and asked how I was settling back into the old neighborhood.
“I hear you’re taking up your journalism again,” she said.
“Oh?” I was surprised. I hadn’t broadcast the fact and I doubted David would have mentioned it to anyone.
She winked at me. “No secrets on the Base; you should know that, Caroline. I just happened to run into Shirley Peters and she told me you’d been out with Mitch and the boys.”
“Oh, I see.”
Donna didn’t mind mixing with the wives of enlisted men. Good.
The doorbell rang again and I was saved from having to move the subject away from Mitch and surfing.
“Duty calls,” I said, rather too glumly.
Donna flashed a warm smile and released my arm, promising that we’d ‘catch up’ later. I was sorry that I’d have to avoid her instead: I liked Donna, but I couldn’t afford to be friends with her. Not now.
Sebastian’s parents were standing at the door when I opened it, Estelle’s face set in the rictus smile she reserved for social occasions; Donald muttered some platitude and pushed his way inside.
Over Estelle’s shoulder, I saw Sebastian sitting behind the wheel of the Hunters’ car. I was caught off-guard and something about my expression caused Estelle to turn to see what I was looking at. She smirked.
“It seems that having a child can be useful after all,” she said. “Who knew? Anyway, it saved us a fight over who got to drink tonight.”
“Is he going to wait outside all evening?” I asked, the concern a little too evident in my voice.
“Oh no,” she said, off-handedly. “He’ll come when we call him.”
He’s not a pet dog!
She turned away and walked into the house; Sebastian and I were left to stare at each other across the expanse of driveway.
He gave me the briefest of smiles then reluctantly pulled his eyes away from mine. I watched until the car had disappeared from sight. My heart was racing and I felt dizzy. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and walked back inside.
I spent the rest of the evening being polite and a good hostess, but anxiety strained my nerves to the point where I felt I’d scream.
“Are you alright, Caroline?” said Donna sympathetically. “You seem a little out-of-sorts.”
I laughed, trying to control the quaver in my voice. “It’s just been a long day. I feel like I’ve been cooking forever.”
It was a lame excuse and I didn’t think she’d fallen for it. But, thoughtful as ever, she accepted my words at face value.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve set the standard now. It’s all absolutely delicious. I don’t know how you do it: cook, write, and look after David.”
She glanced over to where he was holding court, extolling the virtues of white Port over other fortified wines. I knew for a fact he’d looked up the salient points earlier that day on the internet… in between playing cards. David knew nothing about wine. He hated the fact that I did. Was there anything he liked about me? Oh yes, my cooking.