The car’s engine purred like a drowsy cat, the leather seats mingling with the faint scent of air freshener. The grey tarmac streaked past, swallowed beneath the wheels as the sun climbed lazily, promising a warm summer day. Emily leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
“Have a nap. Still twenty minutes to go,” said Thomas to his wife.
“I’d rather nap in my own bed. It’s Sunday, after all. You could’ve gone alone. They’re your friends, not mine,” Emily murmured without opening her eyes.
“What would I do there without you? Everyone’s bringing their wives. I thought you got on with Charlotte. Besides, fresh air’s better than lying in bed.” Thomas fell quiet for a moment. “It’s been ages since we all met up. Remember how it used to be? Oh—and Dave’s bringing his new wife. Did I tell you? No? Wonder who finally tied him down. Must be someone special to make him give up his freedom.”
Emily processed the news, sat up, and blinked.
“You’ve seen him already?”
“Briefly. No time to talk properly. But I’d love a proper catch-up, just like old times—fires, guitars, the lot. Ah, those were the days.” Thomas sighed.
“Now you’ll be doing it every weekend,” Emily muttered.
“Oh, come off it. What’s wrong with that? We’ve been mates since uni. Known each other forever. When your mum was ill, Dave lent us the money for her surgery without a second thought.”
Emily sank back into the seat.
“True. Dave’s a good man. But Peter and Charlotte…”
“What’s wrong with them?” Thomas frowned.
“It’s like they’re playing house, not living it. There’s something… cold between them.”
“Never noticed. They seem fine to me. You know, Charlotte and Dave used to date. Proper love story—we all thought they’d marry right after graduation. Then it fell apart. Charlotte married Peter instead.”
“You never mentioned that.” Emily turned to him.
“Ancient history. Water under the bridge.” Thomas fell silent.
The engine hummed steadily. Emily shut her eyes again, jolting awake as the car bumped onto a dirt road. Pine trees lined the path like sentinels, their branches blocking the sun.
“I forgot how beautiful it is here,” Emily gasped.
“Told you.” Thomas’s voice brimmed with pride, as if he’d arranged the scenery himself.
The gate to the property stood wide open—they were expected. Thomas parked beside two other cars by the fence. The whole gang was here. Dave hurried toward them, arms outstretched as if to embrace them along with the car.
“About time! We nearly left without you.” Dave clapped Thomas on the back. “Still looking sharp, you old fox.” He winked at Emily. “Brought enough food to feed an army, eh? Never mind—hand it over, we’ll manage.”
Laden with bags, the three of them headed to the house. A barbecue grill stood ready in the clearing, charcoal stacked beside it. Under the apple tree, a wooden table with wicker chairs waited.
Charlotte appeared in the doorway with a young woman, both arms full of cushions and blankets.
“Oh! Tom, Em, hello!” Charlotte called.
The air filled with laughter and overlapping chatter.
“Right, ladies, you take over. We’re off fishing,” Dave announced.
“Oh, for—” Charlotte huffed.
“We won’t be long. Just a bit of man-time. You’ll manage—we’ve marinated the meat, set up the grill, done the hard bit. The rest is up to you.”
As the men left, Charlotte thumped a bottle of red wine onto the table.
“Girls, shall we toast to introductions?”
“Oof, I’d rather have white. Red gives me a headache,” said Lily, the newest and youngest of the group.
“Brought some just for you.” Charlotte vanished inside.
“You know her?” Emily nodded toward the house as she asked Lily.
“A bit. She’s visited us a couple of times.”
“Really?” Emily frowned. “How long have you been back in town?” From the car chat, she’d gathered they’d only just returned from their honeymoon.
“Two weeks,” Lily said.
“Ta-da!” Charlotte reappeared with a bottle of white.
They clinked glasses, then set to planning the meal. Charlotte took charge—too pointedly, Emily thought, as if marking territory. *I was here first. You’re the interloper.*
Emily bit her tongue. Easier to watch and learn what this Lily was made of.
Once the table was laid, salads prepared, they relaxed, waiting for the men. And what do three women talk about? Men, of course.
“Lily, keep your wits about you. Your husband’s a notorious flirt,” Charlotte sighed. “Lost count of the women he’s brought round. All men cheat.”
“Why scare her like that?” Emily cut in.
“Does *your* husband cheat?” Lily asked bluntly.
“Cheeky. You’ll see soon enough,” Charlotte shot back, glancing at Emily.
Lily gave her a long look but said nothing.
“If I found out Thomas cheated, I’d probably forgive him,” Emily mused, steering the conversation away. “Who knows what the next one would be like? We’ve grown together.”
“Not all men cheat,” Lily insisted.
“How would *you* know?” Charlotte scoffed. “You’ve barely been married. Wait till the honeymoon phase ends. You’ll tire of him, notice every flaw—”
“Cheaters are just insecure,” Lily said coolly.
“Listen to her, lecturing her elders!” Charlotte looked to Emily for backup.
“Girls, no squabbling,” Peter’s voice came from behind them.
All three jumped.
“Where’s the fish?” Charlotte demanded.
“Did we say there’d *be* fish? We said we were *going* fishing,” Dave grinned. The tension dissolved in laughter.
The evening blurred into wine, guitar songs, and swaying shadows. Dave’s rich baritone carried *Wonderwall* while the others joined in. Lily gazed at her husband, enraptured.
Emily noticed the glances Charlotte stole at Dave. *It’s not over for her,* she thought.
“This is perfect. Missed this,” slurred Peter as the song ended. “Love you all. Toast to friendship!”
But the bottles were empty.
“I’ll fetch more.” Charlotte darted inside.
“Don’t forget Lily’s white!” Emily called after her. “I’ll help.” She followed, intent on scolding Charlotte privately. No need for Lily to see those longing looks at Dave.
Emily crept onto the porch, unsure why she was tip-toeing. Inside, she turned right toward the kitchen nook—and froze. Charlotte, back turned, was uncorking the white wine. Then she pulled a small vial from her pocket and shook tablets into the bottle.
“What are you *doing*?” Emily gasped.
Charlotte startled. Pills scattered across the table. “Trying to *poison* her? Have you lost it?”
“Keep your voice down!” Charlotte peered out the window. “It’s just sleeping pills.”
“Only Lily drinks white. You’re *drugging* her? You still love Dave, don’t you?” Emily’s eyes widened. “You’re *still* seeing him.”
“So what if I am? He’s *mine*. Always has been.”
“Then why marry Peter?”
“I was stupid. Wanted revenge. I got pregnant—Dave didn’t want the baby. The abortion… went wrong. I can’t have children now.”
“God, Charlotte. I didn’t know.” Emily hugged her.
“Don’t tell anyone. I thought… if she slept, I’d have one night with him. Like before. But I can’t—” She shoved Emily away, scooping pills into the bottle.
“Are you *mad*? That dose could kill her!” Emily snatched the bottle.
“Good riddance.”
Lily walked in.
“The men want to know what’s taking so long.”
“Couldn’t get the cork out,” Charlotte lied, shoving a red bottle at Lily and herding her out.
*Covering her tracks.*
At dusk, the mosquitoes swarmed. They drank, sang, talked. Lily yawned repeatedly until Dave led her inside. The others drifted after.
Emily frowned. She’d seen Lily lift the glass—but never sip. *Acting? Why?* The spiked wine sat untouched.
Later, alone in their tiny upstairs room, Thomas snored. Emily lay awake, haunted by Charlotte’s words. Dawn crept in too soon.
A creak outside. Emily slipped to the door, easing it open. On the landing stood a figure in a pale nightshirt—Lily or Charlotte?
*Lily.*
She stepped closer, touching Lily’s shoulder. Lily stifled a yelp. A craft knife clattered to theAs the first light of dawn spilled across the room, Emily tucked the knife beneath the stairs and whispered, “Some friendships are worth fighting for, but not like this.”
