Anyhow, I digress. Ladies and gentlemen, it would now seem that the end times are upon us. In fact, the good Lord whispered as much into my ear this morning. ‘The day has come, the time has arrived!’ he uttered through Ezekiel verse seven. Of course my plan had always been for an extra tablet or two to be placed into Louisa’s Christmas fizz. ‘One for the pot,’ as my dear granny always used to say. There’s nothing quite like a festive gathering to unleash a person’s madness unto the world; it seemed almost poetic that it should be the same day her psyche first began to crack all those years ago. Leaving the door wide open and taking the back-door key was a stroke of genius too, my little pawn now seeming to relish the role bestowed upon them.
It’s a shame Louisa hasn’t noticed the key is missing yet. Still, all good things come to those who wait.
Yes, everything is coming together nicely. In a matter of days, Louisa’s outer shell will have crumbled completely, her inner soul will finally sink into the depths of hell… and ghostly memories will dance on her grave!
‘Nope, no bogeymen hiding under the bed, surprise, surprise!’ James comes back into the kitchen where the rest of us are still congregated. His sarcastic tone and the way he holds himself suggests he is majorly annoyed. I understand the subject of Cory’s conception is delicate, of course I do. But surely, after everything that’s happened, he didn’t expect me to keep it a secret from our friends?
‘So Cory’s all right?’
‘Sleeping like a baby.’
‘Well, isn’t that a relief,’ slurs Ron, matching James’s sarcasm. ‘Now are you cracking open that champers because my mouth is as dry as a nun’s crotch.’
‘Ron… for heaven’s sake.’ Annette shakes her head. ‘Although he is right, Louisa. I would like to get on with our celebratory drinks if you don’t mind.’
‘Really?’ I’m somewhat flabbergasted that, despite my obvious hostility towards her, she still seems hellbent on sticking around.
‘Of course I can only have a sip,’ she continues, rubbing her stomach. ‘This poor mite must already be sozzled, the amount of Dom Perignon I consumed in our lake house last August. Did I mention the lake house to you, Helen? It’s absolutely beautiful.’
‘Did the doctor give you a scan picture?’ Helen asks, seemingly finding the whole ‘surprise pregnancy’ as unbelievable as me.
‘Well, yes, of course.’ Annette looks momentarily put out, perhaps hoping for a lengthy discussion about the famous ‘lake house’ – which she doesn’t like to mention much, of course. ‘In fact it was a 3D one,’ she continues, her lips puckering as if sucking on a lemon. ‘And he’s an angel. Beautiful. I just can’t wait until he’s with me.’
‘Well, he’s already with you now, just inside your womb. Isn’t he?’ I say, my stomach turning over.
She holds my stare. ‘Obviously I’m aware of that. You know what I mean.’
‘So can we see the scan picture then?’ asks Helen, offering me a small smile.
Does she also suspect Annette isn’t pregnant?
‘No.’ Annette narrows her eyes. ‘It’s framed at home. I suppose it would have been nice to bring it.’
There’s a moment’s pause where nobody speaks, the awkwardness emitting an almost white noise.
‘Well, anyway…’ declares James, his tone once again light. ‘I suppose we haven’t got too long to wait until we meet him in the flesh.’
‘Well, that’s the thing actually.’ Annette looks over at Ron, as if unsure whether or not to continue. ‘Ron has been offered a new position at a leading pharmaceutical company in Scotland. It’s almost twice the salary meaning I can stay at home with the little one. We’d be crazy not to take it.’
My mouth turns dry. ‘When are you going?’ I ask, terrified to hear the answer.
‘A few days’ time.’ She smirks, giving her stomach another rub for good measure. ‘We just have a few loose ends to tie up here before we go.’
‘Louisa?’ Magda’s voice swims towards me and I feel her tugging on my sleeve. ‘Are you feeling all right? You’ve gone really pale again.’
‘I’m fine.’ I sniff up, the smell of fresh smoke suddenly turning my stomach. ‘What’s burning? Something’s on fire!’
‘James is outside smoking.’ A cold hand touches my forehead causing me to flinch. ‘Relax, Lou, it’s just me,’ says Annette. ‘Did you not just hear him saying he was going outside for a cigarette? You’re sweating. Do you want to sit down? You’re not going to faint again, are you?’
Her questions are too much for my brain to process. ‘Yes, what? I’m tired. Cory hasn’t been sleeping.’ My words fall from my mouth. I wipe at my brow, which is wet with sweat. ‘I don’t think the tablets are helping. I feel really ill.’
‘Probably shouldn’t have mixed them with alcohol,’ says Annette.
‘Make you batty as a box of frogs that will,’ chirps in Ron, his voice wafting over to me from the other side of the kitchen. ‘And so will I be if I don’t get my hands on an alcoholic beverage soon.’
‘Right!’ I snap, unable to help myself. ‘There’s a bottle of champagne in there. Just open it yourself – I need air.’ I point at the cupboard which is nestled into the corner of the kitchen. Even in my flurried state, I distinctly remember James putting a bottle of champagne in there last Christmas, a present from a work colleague, and to my knowledge it hasn’t been drunk. Forcing myself to place one foot in front of the other, I make my way over to the back door where I grip hold of the door frame and gulp in fresh air. James looks over at me from where he is standing a mere three metres away, the fiery end of his cigarette illuminating his face as he inhales a long drag.
‘Hey, what’s this?’ I turn around to find Annette on her knees, emerging from the cupboard with something shiny in her hand.
‘Can I drink it? That’s all I’m interested in,’ asks Ron.
Ignoring Ron, I walk over to Annette, giving her space in which to heave herself up. ‘I think you’ve got an extra little Christmas present here.’ She hands me a small, neatly wrapped box with an identical red bow to the present I opened earlier today.
Taking it from her, I open up the tag which is stuck to the side.
A keepsake to you. A promise from me.
‘James?’ I look over at him as he steps back inside, bringing in stale smoke on his clothes. ‘Annette’s found this?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ he says after a brief pause. ‘I bought you that a while ago. I meant to give it you as your main Christmas present but then I had the idea of the locket and, well, I just forgot all about it.’
‘Well, can I open it? ‘ I feel almost shy to ask, as if something about the whole situation isn’t quite right.
‘Maybe James would be happier with you opening it in private. What if we open that champagne first?’ Magda’s voice slices through the silence.
‘What a cracking idea. I always knew I liked you,’ says Ron.
‘James?’ I force his eyes to meet mine, ignoring everybody else around us.
‘Sure. Open it,’ he says casually enough. ‘It is for you after all.’
As I loosen the bow, the feel of the ribbon between my fingers causes my skin to burn. Nothing feels normal any more, nothing is how it should be. All eyes are now on me, their stares drilling into my skull. I pull away the wrapping paper, allow it to fall down to the floor. ‘It’s something from Pandora,’ I say.
‘Open it then,’ replies James, a little too brightly.
I open the lid on the box, blink down at the small silver charm embedded in the centre. ‘I, erm…’
‘Do you like it?’
I look again, see it is in the shape of a house, a gold, love-heart clasp dangling off it. The word ‘family’ has been engraved into the front. Lifting it out of its casing, I roll it over between my fingers, catching sight of the side of the house. Three childish stick men are engraved into the silver: a woman, man and child. ‘But I don’t even have the bracelet,’ I say, confused.
‘Well, obviously, I was going to buy you that too then I forgot about it.’ James looks down at his feet.
‘But didn’t you think to buy it at the same time, knowing I didn’t have one?’
He shakes his head. ‘I just saw it and thought it would be nice. It was ages ago. We’ll get you the bracelet tomorrow. It’ll be half-price in the sales.’ He tries out a laugh but it falls to the floor.
‘Well, I’m not being rude but at this rate I’ll be toasting my son’s graduation, never mind his conception.’ Ron stumbles over towards the still-open cupboard. ‘Want a job doing, do it yourself.’