The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,114
at me. ‘Parties are best when there’s a good crowd. Come through to the kitchen.’
Nick stomps off down the hall and I follow Emma through the house. She’s wearing jeans and a purple top glittering with silver sequins.
‘I like your top,’ I say as we come into the kitchen.
‘Borrowed it from a friend,’ she says. ‘I don’t own anything like this. It’s a bit glitzy for me.’
‘I think it suits you.’ I feel like I’m trying too hard.
Emma glances down at my hands and then opens the fridge. ‘Want a drink?’ she asks.
A drink? Oh God, I feel like a complete idiot. She did say it was BYO. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble. ‘I forgot to stop at the pub.’
‘No matter,’ she says vaguely. ‘There’s plenty here.’
‘No. No.’ I’m hoarse with embarrassment. ‘I’ll just pop down the street. It won’t take a minute.’
I retreat quickly down the hall to the door. No wonder she was looking at me like that. I’ve committed a major social faux pas. And I’m here too early. Nobody else has arrived. Only a fool is on time to a party. I’ve forgotten how to be a normal human being.
‘Tom,’ Emma calls. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
She appears from the kitchen, while I stand with my hand on the doorknob. Her face is flushed and smiling. She’s not judging, I realise; it’s me who is doing all the flagellation here.
‘There’s plenty of grog.’ She slips her hand over mine on the doorknob. ‘Just stay.’
‘I won’t feel right.’ My heart is beating hard at her proximity. Perhaps she doesn’t mind me being early after all.
‘Let him go.’ Nick comes down the corridor doing up the cuffs of a white shirt. He looks brown-faced, healthy and masculine. ‘It’s going to be a big night. Won’t hurt to have a few reserves.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Emma is right beside me at the door.
‘We have to light the candles and put out the food,’ Nick says.
‘Emma,’ another voice calls from the kitchen, ‘where’s the hummus?’
‘It’s okay. I’ll be back soon.’ I back out the door, feeling Emma’s hand slip off mine, and then Nick has his arm around her waist and is shepherding her towards the kitchen. She might have said that he doesn’t own her, but he’s acting like he does.
In the street, I can breathe again. The best thing I could do right now is to get in the car and drive home. But Emma is expecting me to return, and, pathetic though I am, I can’t let her down. I shove my hands in my pockets and start walking down the hill. My car is the only one parked in the street. Why didn’t I notice this before? I’m so out of practice, it’s a tragedy. If a party’s happening, there should be cars everywhere.
I manage to take more than an hour buying half a dozen beers and a bottle of wine. When I come back up the hill, cars are parked up and down the street. I’m now fashionably late. I stop by the Subaru and let Jess out to stretch her legs. She squats with some embarrassment on the nature strip then bounds back into the car and snuggles down on my seat. She’s happy that I’m back and that I haven’t deserted her. I guess she’s keeping her eye on me, just in case.
I drum my fingers on the roof of the car and watch people climbing out of another vehicle further up the street. They’re laughing, talking animatedly. How nice it would be to enter a party with the added confidence of being with a friend. But I can’t delay much longer. It’s time to go and face the mob. I sweep my plastic bag of clinking bottles off the top of the car and walk through the gate and up the steps to the front door for the second time tonight.
Through the window I can see the lights have been dimmed and music is now throbbing. I bang on the door. Wait. Knock again. Then I let myself in. Music swells out. Music and smoke. I hear laughter from the kitchen, so I shut the door behind me and walk tentatively towards the sound. Somebody sweeps past me in the semi-dark, and then I have to push past bodies in the doorway to get into the kitchen. Everything is candlelit. Faces glow in the flickering light and the smoke haze softens outlines. The hubbub of conversation is loud as I move towards the fridge,