Page 104 of The Last Party

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Felicia messages Tabby.Pub afterward? Seren says they’re open till late.Her sister nods furiously. Woody and Hester are being brattish as usual. Blythe got them to sing “Jingle Bells” and they literally did it ten times without stopping. Now they’re chasing each other around the table.

“If you don’t go to sleep,” Yasmin says, “Father Christmas won’t come.”

Felicia and Tabby exchange glances. Mum’s not taking any shit tonight; they can tell from her voice.

Blythe puts a hand on Jonty’s arm. “Darling, could you put the children down? You’re so much better at it than I am.”

Jonty swoops down on the brats, who could be crying or laughing, Felicia can’t tell. “Come on, you horrors.”

Mum’s gazing at Jonty as if he’s the fucking Messiah. It’s still going on, then. She wants to cry, or hit something, or run around screaming like Woody and Hester.

Felicia had found a text from Jonty on her mum’s phone back in the summer.I can’t wait to fuck you.She’d deleted it, then dropped the phone as if it had bitten her, shaking with fear and confusion. What had she just read? She’d wanted to tell Tabby, but talking about it would make it real, and Felicia didn’t want it to be real. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe Jonty thought he was texting someone else.

Felicia had watched her parents closely over the next few days, but they seemed the same as they’d always been. Not lovey-dovey—which would be gross—but they didn’t seem to hate each other either. Mum wasn’t acting as if she was having an affair. Three days later, Felicia snuck Yasmin’s phone out of the bedroom when her mum was in the shower.

You taste as good as I imagined.

Felicia thought she was going to be sick. Jonty Charlton and Mum. Mum and Jonty Charlton. It was disgusting. And poor Dad! He’d be devastated if he knew—he mustn’t ever, ever find out. Felicia had clung to the thought that it was a one-off or that her mum had gone temporarily insane—some sort of menopausal crisis—and that everything would go back to normal soon. In the meantime, she’d stuck to Yasmin like glue, doing her best to make sure she was never on her own with Jonty.

There were no more texts on Yasmin’s phone after The Shore closed at the end of the summer, and Felicia could have cried with relief. But the look in Yasmin’s eyes just now… If there isn’t still something going on between them, it’s obvious she wants there to be.

“Why can’t we be at the party?” Tabby is saying. They’re talking about New Year’s Eve. Felicia’s torn between not wanting to be anywhere near the Charltons and knowing it’s going to be an awesome party. Like, an Instagramgoldkind of party.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d want to hang out with us old people.” Jonty’s back from putting his kids to bed. Felicia glowers at him. He’s not wrong there. She imagines the vibe, right now, at the Frog & Hammer and wants to be there so badly, she can almost taste the porn star martinis she’d be ordering with Esme’s dad’s money. Her mum starts arguing with Blythe about who’s hosting the party, and Felicia just can’t be fucked with any of it.

“We should invite some of the locals,” her dad is saying. And now Jonty’s rubbing Blythe’s shoulder blades like he’s not fucking someone else’s wife. God, she doesn’t know how Mum can sit there next to Dad as if nothing’s wrong.

Blythe says something about having diverse representation within your friendship circle, and Felicia gives her a supportive look. Like: that’s a bit of a wanky thing to say, especially when Felicia knows for a fact the only ethnic minority in Blythe’scircleis her Korean masseuse, but the woman’s married to a shit, so.

Felicia goes back to her phone till Blythe claps her hands and announces some mad plan for a Christmas Day swim.

“What do you think, girls? Caleb’s doing it.” Like that makes a difference.

“Yeah, whatevs,” Felicia says as rudely as she dares.

It takes forever till Yasmin says they’re allowed to leave—and no more than half a cider!—and it’s pissing with rain as they totter the mile to the village on their stupid shoes. Seren’s already in the pub, a round of cocktails squashed on the windowsill, where she’s carved out a space. Felicia’s coat steams in the warmth of the pub.

“Happy Christmas!” Seren’s eyes are shining. “How is everyone? How’s your dad?”

God.Felicia can’t even. She downs her drink and slams it down on the windowsill. “Catch up, lightweights. I want to get fucked.”

They can’t get fucked, because the barman lets them have two drinks each, then leans over and saysDon’t push your luck, kids. Seren shrugs and says she’s tired anyway, so Tabby and Felicia wind up walking home even before last call.

“What a shit Christmas,” Felicia says as they reach the drive leading to The Shore.

Tabby takes off her shoes and walks barefoot on the icy tarmac. “I tore a corner of wrapping paper off those square boxes under the tree. They’ve gotten us AirPods.”

“Cool.” Felicia sighs.

As they reach the front door of number five, they hear raised voices. Felicia feels her stomach pitch.Dad’s found out.She opens the front door, and in tacit agreement, they creep into the hall and listen.

“I can’t believe you would do that!” Yasmin is saying. Felicia frowns. This is all wrong. Dad’s the one who should be saying that. “And tobragabout it to me, as though I’d be impressed!”

“You were impressed enough when you thought Jonty hadthe magic touch.”

Felicia thinks she might be sick.

“Because I had no idea what he was really doing—whatyou’vebeen doing. It’s—it’s criminal!”


Tags: Clare Mackintosh Mystery