The engine hummed soothingly, filling the car with the scent of leather and air freshener. Grey tarmac streaked with white lines rushed toward them before vanishing beneath the wheels. The sun was just rising, promising a warm summer day. Lydia leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
“Get some rest. We’ve still got twenty minutes,” said Robert to his wife.
“I’d rather sleep at home in a warm bed. It’s our day off, after all. You could’ve gone alone—it’s your friends anyway,” Lydia replied without opening her eyes.
“What would I do there without you? Everyone’s bringing their wives. I thought you and Ingrid got along. Besides, nothing beats the outdoors—sleep can wait.” Robert fell silent for a moment. “We haven’t all met up in ages. Remember how it used to be? Oh—John’s bringing his new wife. Did I tell you? No? Guess someone finally tamed him. Must be something special to make him give up his freedom.”
Lydia considered the news, sat up straighter, and opened her eyes.
“Have you seen him yet?”
“Briefly, no time to catch up properly. Would’ve been nice, though—chatting like old times, guitars by the fire. Ah, those were the days.” Robert sighed.
“Now you’ll be doing it every weekend,” Lydia muttered.
“Oh, come on. What’s wrong with that? We’ve been mates since uni. Known each other forever. When your mum needed that surgery, John didn’t hesitate to lend us the money.”
Lydia leaned back again.
“True. John’s a good man. But Ian and Ingrid…”
“What’s wrong with them?” Robert frowned.
“Like they’re playing house rather than actually being married. They just seem… off.”
“Never noticed. Seems fine to me. You know Ingrid and John used to date, right? Everyone thought they’d marry after first year. Then it fell apart. She married Ian instead.”
“You never mentioned that.” Lydia turned to him.
“Ancient history. Water under the bridge.” Robert went quiet.
The engine droned on, and Lydia closed her eyes again. She opened them when the car jolted onto a dirt road. Pine trees lined the path like a wall, blocking the sunlight.
“I’d forgotten how lovely it is here,” Lydia gasped.
“Told you.” Robert sounded almost proud, as if he’d had a hand in the scenery.
The gate to the property stood open—they were expected. Robert parked beside two other cars by the fence. Everyone was already here. John hurried toward them, arms wide as if he meant to hug the whole car.
“Finally! We nearly left without you.” John clapped Robert on the back. “Still looking sharp, mate. And you—glowing as ever,” he added, complimenting Lydia. “Why’d you bring so much food? We’ve got enough to last a week! Ah well, hand it over—can’t hurt to have extra.”
Laden with bags, the three walked to the house. A barbecue grill stood ready near a sack of charcoal. Under an apple tree, a wooden table was set with wicker chairs.
Ingrid appeared in the doorway with a young woman, arms full of cushions and blankets.
“Oh! Robert, Lydia, hello!” Ingrid called out.
The air buzzed with laughter and overlapping chatter.
“Right then, ladies. You handle things here—we’re off fishing,” John announced.
“Oh, come on…” Ingrid sighed.
“Won’t be long. Just a bit of male bonding. You won’t miss us. We’ve done our part—marinated the meat, set up the grill, stocked the fridge. Now it’s your turn.”
“So, girls, a toast to new friends?” Ingrid placed a bottle of red wine on the table as the men left.
“Actually, I’d prefer white. Red gives me a headache,” said Alice, the youngest and newest in their circle.
“Got just the thing.” Ingrid smiled. “Be right back.”
“Do you know her well?” Lydia asked Alice, nodding toward the house where Ingrid had gone.
“A bit. She’s visited us a couple of times.”
“Really?” Lydia blinked. “I thought you’d just got back from your honeymoon.”
“Two weeks ago,” Alice confirmed.
“Ta-da!” Ingrid reappeared with a bottle of white wine.
The women sipped their drinks and discussed the meal. Ingrid took charge—Lydia noticed she made a show of it, as if asserting her place. Alice was treated like an outsider, which rankled Lydia, but she stayed quiet. Easier to observe.
Once the table was set, they relaxed, waiting for the men. Naturally, conversation turned to husbands.
“Alice, watch your step. Your man’s a notorious charmer. Lost count of how many women he’s brought around. All men cheat—just the way it is,” Ingrid said with a sigh.
“Why scare her like that?” Lydia defended.
“Does your husband cheat?” Alice asked bluntly.
“Cheeky! You’ll see for yourself,” Ingrid shot back, glancing at Lydia.
Alice gave her a strange look but said nothing.
“If Robert cheated, I’d probably forgive him. Who knows?” Lydia redirected.
“Robert wouldn’t dare. Men like him don’t stray,” Ingrid said amiably.
“If all men cheat, why bother divorcing? One heartbreak’s much like another. At least I know Robert. Some new bloke might be worse.”
“Not all men cheat,” Alice insisted.
“How would you know?” Ingrid scoffed. “You’ve barely been married. Wait till the spark fades, the flaws show, and you’re sick of the sight of him—you’ll sing a different tune.”
“Only weak men cheat—those who need to prove something,” Alice held firm.
“Listen to her—just out of nappies and schooling her elders!” Ingrid glared, seeking backup from Lydia.
“Ladies, no squabbling,” Ian’s voice cut in behind them.
All three jumped and turned.
“Where’s the fish?” Ingrid demanded.
“Did we promise fish? Said we were going fishing—never mentioned catching any.” John winked, and laughter followed.
The mood lightened. The men took over the grill while the women brought out salads and snacks.
As the sun dipped behind the pines, wine-loosened voices rose in song. John’s rich baritone led the chorus of *”You’re the One…”*, the others joining in. Alice watched him adoringly, oblivious to all else.
Lydia, however, noticed Ingrid’s lingering glances. *Still not over him,* she thought.
“This is brilliant. Missed this so much. Love you lot—to friendship!” Ian shouted when the song ended.
But the bottles were empty.
“I’ll fetch more,” Ingrid jumped up and dashed inside.
“Don’t forget Alice’s white!” Lydia called after her. “I’ll help.” She followed, intending to scold Ingrid privately. No need for Alice to see those longing looks.
Lydia stepped softly onto the porch, unsure why. Inside, she turned toward the kitchen and froze in the doorway. Ingrid was emptying a small vial of pills into the white wine.
“What are you doing?” Lydia gasped.
Ingrid startled, spilling pills across the table. “Trying to poison Alice? Have you lost it?”
“Shh!” Ingrid peered out the window. “Just sleeping pills.”
“Alice is the only one drinking white. You’re still in love with John, aren’t you? Do you still meet?”
“Say it. Go on. He’s *mine*. Always has been.”
“Then why marry Ian?”
“Stupid revenge. I got pregnant—he didn’t want the baby. The abortion… I can’t have children now.”
“My God, Ingrid. I didn’t know.” Lydia hugged her.
“Don’t tell anyone. I just wanted one night with him. Thought I could move on, but I can’t.” She shoved Lydia away, scrabbling for the pills.
“You’ll kill her with that dose! Stop!” Lydia snatched the bottle.
“Good riddance,” Ingrid hissed.
Alice walked in. “The men sent me to check on you.”
“Couldn’t get the bottle open,” Ingrid bluffed, shoving a red wine bottle into Alice’s hands and herding her out.
*Covering her tracks,* Lydia realized.
They rejoined the group. As dusk fell, mosquitoes buzzed. More wine, more songs. Alice yawned repeatedly until John led her inside. The others followed.
Lydia frowned. Alice had lifted her glass but never drank. *Pretending? Why?* The drugged wine sat untouched.
Later, helping Ingrid clear up, Lydia poured the tainted wine into the bushes while Ingrid rambled about how wonderful the day had been.
“Lock up. I’m dead on my feet,” Ingrid yawned theatrically.
Upstairs, Robert was already snoring. Lydia lay beside him, thoughts racing. Near dawn, sheThe years passed with shared Christmases, summer barbecues, and children’s laughter weaving their lives together, proving that time and honesty had mended what jealousy once nearly broke.
