Free 32aa by Michelle Cunnah Page A

Sylvester. Adam’s a bastard ionic bonder.”
    He’s obviously been talking to Rachel.
    I drift across the room in search of another drink, leaving David and Sylvester to argue about Adam’s masculine charms, and by now I am feeling quite warm and fuzzy. I know it is the effect of all the food and alcohol I have consumed, and I search for a nice, quiet place to have a little sit-down by myself.
    “Emma.” Tish grabs me before I can reach the sofa in the corner. “Why didn’t you warn me Rufus would be here? If I’d known, I’d have worn something nicer. I should have gone home straight from work and changed,” she frets, twirling a strand of hair compulsively around her finger.
    “You look lovely,” I tell her.
    And she does. The blue silk dress hugs her curves and brings out the glossy brown of her hair. Wish I had those curves and that glossy brown hair.
    “He’s barely looked at me all night.”
    “Yes,” I explain to her patiently. “But you never get near enough for him to get a really good look at you, and he’s nearsighted.”
    “Is he?”
    She thinks about this for a moment.
    “So how come you know this and I don’t? How come he makes you birthday cakes, and gives you personally signed cookbooks? How come he’s cozying up in the corner with Rachel instead of me?”
    She’s right. I had noticed, actually, that Rachel and Rufus are getting on like a house on fire. They are very close, poring over the recipes in Rufus’s book. Rachel laughs, and Rufus smiles at her. And although Rachel is undoubtedly the Brain of Biochemistry, she also qualifies in the Miss USA category. Tall, with long blonde hair, svelte and sexy. How can Rufus resist such temptation?
    Oh God, Rachel cannot do this to Tish. Rachel is one of the most decent people I know. She has Principles.
    “Go over there and find out what they’re talking about,” Tish orders me, giving me a push toward them.
    “This is silly.” I gently disengage my arm. “Why don’t you just go across and talk to him?”
    “But what would I talk about? ”
    “Have another glass of wine, then you won’t care.”
    “Look. Rachel’s gone to the bathroom. Go and talk to him for me.”
    “But I don’t want to date him,” I explain. “Just go over there and ask him about his book. That should get him talking.”
    She thinks about this for a moment, then gulps down half a glass of Chardonnay.
    “Okay, I will.”
    Atta girl!
    “But only if you come with me. Pleeeese, Emma?”
    Greater love hath no woman than me for my friends.
    So I do go with her. And, after I get Rufus chatting about organic muffins, and after I tell him about Tish’s latest interior design conquest, they start to actually exchange words with each other. I think Rufus has drunk quite a lot of Guinness, so he’s more forthcoming than usual. And then I see Rachel coming back from the bathroom so I leave them to it, to head her off at the pass.
    “Thank fuck for that,” Rachel tells me as she glances across at Rufus and Tish. “I’ve just spent the last hour bored to death, listening to Rufus blathering on about Tish and his recipes. But mainly about Tish. I thought she’d never take the hint and come over. The things one does for friendship.”
    I sigh with relief. Rachel is not a boyfriend-stealing bitch like Stella Burgoyne after all.
    I love my friends. They’re so nice.
    And then Rachel touches my arm and leans toward me, genuine concern written on her face.
    “So how are you doing, kiddo?”
    And ka-bam, I remember Adam. In the midst of Tish’s Rufus crisis, I’d kind of forgotten about him. Kind of. And Rachel realizes her mistake for reminding me, and tells me again what a worthless shit Adam is, and then promptly changes the subject to the pros and cons of genetic screening. I relax with this. Even though I don’t understand much of what she says, Rachel’s uncharacteristic display of concern was almost my undoing again.
    Not that Rachel isn’t kind, because