deliberately avoiding my eye as he heads out to the hall? I can’t tell. I top up everyone’s glass with wine and especially my own. I think we’re going to need it.
And then suddenly there she is, coming into the kitchen with Dan, and my heart plummets. She’s a vision, an absolute vision, taller than I expected, all cloudy dark hair and kind eyes and those amazing dimples.
‘Hello,’ she says with a radiant smile, and extends a hand. ‘Sylvie? I’m Mary.’
I blink at her, feeling overwhelmed. She’s gorgeous. She really does look like an angel. An angel in a white shirt with an oversized collar, and soft linen trousers.
‘Hi.’ I clasp her hand and shake it. ‘Yes. I’m Dan’s wife.’
‘You’re so sweet to have us all over,’ says Mary, then adds to Dan, ‘Oh, white wine, please. What a treat. Jeremy, Adrian, you both look wonderful.’
She has that gift of putting people at their ease, I instantly realize. I glance downwards and see that she’s wearing amazing grey leather pumps, which manage to look fashionable and ethical and expensive but non-showy, all at the same time.
I’m in the sling-back kitten heels I always wear for supper parties. I liked them ten minutes ago, but now they suddenly seem really obvious and inferior.
‘I love your kitchen,’ says Mary in a soft voice. ‘It has a wonderful family atmosphere. And that blue is stunning. Did you choose that?’
She has the most soothing voice. She really is a tranquil lake. Oh God, I think I have a crush on this woman, never mind Dan.
‘We tried loads of different blues before we got it right,’ I say, and her face breaks into another dimpled smile.
‘I can imagine. And look at your garden. Those adorable Wendy houses!’
She heads towards the back door to peer out and I’m struck by her supple walk. She’s not skinny, but she possesses her body perfectly. I can just imagine her aged nineteen, her pre-Raphaelite hair around her shoulders, her skin pale and perfect …
No. Stop it. I need to bond with her. I’ll talk about gardening.
‘Come out and see!’ I say, opening the back door and ushering her out on to the tiny patio. ‘I mean, we don’t do much with it … Do you have a boyfriend?’
Oh God. That just popped out before I could stop it. Did that sound unnatural?
No. It’s fine. It’s a normal question. It’s what you do when you meet people. You ask them about themselves.
‘No.’ Mary’s face twists into a rueful expression and she wanders over to look at our sole tree, a silver birch. ‘Not for a while.’
‘Ah.’ I try to sound understanding, like a member of the sisterhood, not like the suspicious wife who’s mentally logging no boyfriend.
‘Men can let you down so badly,’ Mary continues in her melodious voice. ‘Or maybe it’s just the men I’ve come across. They seem to have an extra capacity for deceit. This is lovely,’ she adds, stroking the tree.
She has picked the one thing in our garden you could describe as lovely.
‘And yarrow!’ she exclaims, reaching for some nondescript plant I’ve never even noticed. ‘Gorgeous. So healing. Do you ever use it in your bath?’
‘Er … no,’ I admit. Use that scraggy plant in my bath?
‘Never let anyone tell you that it’s a weed. You can make a wonderful tincture with the flowers. It helps with sleep … fevers … everything.’ She looks up, her eyes shining, and I stare back, slightly mesmerized. ‘It’s one of my passions, natural healing. And energy healing.’
‘Energy healing?’
‘Using the body’s own energy to rebalance.’ Mary gives me her beatific smile again. ‘I’m only a beginner, but I believe passionately in the mind–body connection. In the flow.’ She gestures down her body in one beautiful movement.
‘Here you are!’ Dan’s voice interrupts us and we both turn to see him stepping out of the back door. ‘What are you two gossiping about?’
He sounds self-conscious, I instantly register. Too hearty.
‘Sylvie was asking me about my love life,’ says Mary with that same rueful expression, and I see Dan’s gaze dart to me sharply.
Great. So now it looks like I’ve led Mary outside, away from the group, to demand if she’s single.
Which is totally not what I did.
I mean it’s not what I meant to do. It just came up.
‘I wasn’t!’ I say a little shrilly. ‘I mean … who cares about that?’ I attempt a laugh, which doesn’t quite come off. ‘Anyway, tell Dan about your natural healing, Mary! It sounds