The Art of Friendship. Erin Kaye
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Janice. It sounds wonderful,’ said Clare. It was the answer to her prayers – but one that was beyond her reach. ‘But I don’t think I could afford to rent just now.’
‘Who said anything about rent?’ cried Janice, her eyes ablaze with excitement. ‘I don’t want anything for it. Sure, it’s lying there empty. And we’re paying for the heating anyway so that it doesn’t get damp.’
‘But won’t Keith want to use it?’
‘No. I can’t remember the last time he was even in there,’ said Janice. ‘If he ever does the odd bit of work from home, he uses the study in the house. There’s nothing in the office but a dusty desk and an old office chair. To be honest, Clare, I’d rather see it used than lying empty.’
‘Why, Janice,’ said Clare, and she paused for a moment, lost for words. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She put the cool flat of her palms against her hot cheeks. The pessimist in her found it hard to believe what she was hearing.
‘All you have to say is “yes”,’ said Janice.
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Clare, searching in the faces of the others for affirmation that she wasn’t imagining things. Patsy and Kirsty were all smiles.
‘My own studio. It’s a dream come true. I can’t thank you enough,’ said Clare, ‘I really can’t.’ She fought to hold back tears of gratitude brought on by Janice’s largesse.
‘I’ve always fancied being a patron of the arts,’ said Janice. ‘And now you can help me become one. I have high hopes for you, Clare McCormack!’
‘I hope I don’t let you down,’ said Clare. Her stomach made a sound and she placed a hand on her solid belly, tight with excitement and nerves.
‘You won’t,’ said Janice firmly. ‘Now come round first thing in the morning and I’ll give you the keys.’
Clare swallowed. ‘I really don’t know what to say. You don’t realise what this means to me.’
‘I think I’ve a fair idea,’ laughed Janice.
‘I am so very blessed in you,’ said Clare, holding her right hand over her heart. She closed her eyes momentarily, opened them, and looked at each of the three women in turn. ‘So very blessed to have you as my friends. All of you.’
The women exchanged happy glances and there was a long, not entirely comfortable, silence. Kirsty’s high cheek-bones went red and Clare wondered if any of them realised just how much their friendship meant to her. In spite of the differences between them, they were the sisters – the family – she had never had growing up.
A little later, Clare, realising that they had talked about nothing but her for the last half hour, said, ‘What about everyone else’s New Year’s resolutions? How are you getting on?’
‘Kirsty’s got something to report,’ said Janice, with a mischievous smile and a glance at Kirsty. ‘She’s been on a date.’
Immediately Kirsty felt her cheeks burn even brighter. She did not like to be the centre of attention, preferring to be an observer. Even among her dearest friends she was quiet and reserved.
‘Of course! How did it go?’ demanded Patsy, crossing her legs and settling into the chair to listen, her glass balanced on her knee.
‘Do I have to?’ pleaded Kirsty, recalling the evening with discomfort. It had been a disaster but not one that she was ready to laugh at just yet.
‘Yes!’ the others chorused.
‘Oh, okay then. Well, you all know we went to Alloro.’ Alloro was a posh Italian restaurant on the High Street Kirsty had never been to. ‘The food was very good,’ she said. ‘I had…’
‘For God’s sake, we don’t want to hear about the food,’ tutted Patsy, waving her hand dismissively in the air. ‘What about the date?’
‘Well, he was a lawyer friend of Keith’s.’
‘Oh, a lawyer no less,’ said Patsy playfully, pretending to be impressed.
‘So. What was he like?’ said Clare gently, ignoring Patsy’s teasing.
Kirsty thought back to the moment she’d first seen Robert and the pool of disappointment that had settled in her stomach. His dishwater-grey eyes had stared out at her from behind thick glasses – strangely, he’d hardly blinked, reminding her of a goldfish. His dark hair was thinning slightly on top and his smile was reserved, as though he was holding something of himself back. It had the unfortunate effect of making him appear as though he felt himself superior.
‘Average really. Average height, well built,’ said Kirsty, picking her words with care, not wanting to be unkind and reminding herself that she couldn’t afford to be choosy at her age. The pool of available men clearly had its limitations.
‘You mean heavy,’ corrected Clare.
‘No, he wasn’t heavy. Just, you know, solid.’ He had, in fact, one of those stocky, thick-necked builds that could so easily go to fat. Kirsty preferred men who were fit and lean.
Clare looked at Patsy, put her hand up to her mouth and said in a loud, theatrical aside, ‘Fat.’
Patsy grinned and said, ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of beef on a man. But more to the point, did you like him?’
‘Mmm, not really,’ admitted Kirsty. ‘He ignored me most of the night.’
Janice nodded in agreement and Clare said, with a cross frown, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Exactly that,’ said Kirsty, the annoyance she had felt that night rekindled. She put her arms around herself and gave herself a hug. ‘He spent more time talking to Keith than me and Janice put together. He wasn’t interested in a date. Not with me anyway. At one point I turned to speak to him and Robert actually put his elbow on the table, like this,’ she demonstrated, ‘so that I was totally excluded from the conversation he was having with Keith. And then he cut me dead when I was telling him why I didn’t like lamb. Isn’t that right, Janice?’
Patsy and Clare looked at Janice.
‘She’s right,’ nodded Janice. ‘Turns out Robert’s looking for promotion to partner. I think he thought it was a great opportunity to get the ear of Keith. Maybe he was hoping he would put in a good word for him. I’m sorry, Kirsty. If I’d known I never would’ve suggested the night out.’
Kirsty shrugged, pretending that it was water under the bridge, that the rejection hadn’t hurt as much as it had. Her first date in fifteen years and the guy had hardly even looked at her. Even Keith, out of politeness or, more likely, because Janice had primed him, had commented on her appearance. Robert hadn’t given her a second glance, let alone a compliment all night.
‘Well, screw him!’ declared Patsy crossly. ‘There’s plenty more fish in the sea. And you can do far better than a toad like him. Can’t she, girls?’
‘Mind you, you might have to kiss a few more frogs before you meet your Prince Charming,’ teased Janice.
‘Oh, God,’ said Kirsty, putting a hand to her throat and pulling a face. ‘Don’t even talk about kissing him. It makes me feel quite queasy.’
The others roared with laughter and Kirsty felt marginally better. She reminded herself that there was nothing wrong with her. Rather it was her date who had the problem.
She tried to brush it off lightly, but it was a blow to her confidence. All that getting ready – what a waste of time. She could’ve been sitting at home with a tub of Häagen-Dazs watching re-runs of House. She sighed and took a very long slug of wine.
After a few moments, when the hilarity had died down, Kirsty said, ‘What about everyone else? What about your resolution, Janice? You never did say what your project was going to be.’
‘I’m