‘Just tell us, darling,’ said Marlena encouragingly.
‘Madonna, Madonna, my loves, and I poured her sparkling water,’ announced Alfonso, waving his arms triumphantly in the air.
‘Wonderful, darling,’ said Marlena.
She turned to George.
‘And what have you been up to this week, sweetheart?’ she asked. ‘Still no sign of that beautiful girl of yours, I see. What a pity!’
‘I don’t believe this,’ said George. ‘Look, I’ll see if I can persuade her to join us, OK? But I do know she’s with her family.’
He took his phone from his pocket and touched one key on the screen.
‘Voicemail,’ he muttered in an aside. Then he spoke into the phone.
‘Hi, Carla darling, it’s me. I’m calling from Johnny’s — I’m with the gang, Sunday Club. Like I told you about. Don’t suppose you can join us, can you? I’d love to see you and so would the rest of the bunch. If you can bear it, do come. Love you, baby. Kiss kiss.’
‘I think I’m going to throw up,’ said Ari.
‘Behave,’ said Marlena. ‘One day some girl will be monumentally stupid enough to let you fall in love with her.’
‘And when she does, I promise not to make all my friends feel sick.’ Ari turned away from the table and pretended to retch.
‘Oh, stop it, you’re disgusting,’ said Karen.
‘No I’m not,’ said Ari. ‘I’m handsome, charming and sophisticated. My mother told me so this morning. And for the record, Marlena, there’s always a queue of girls at my door and—’
‘If there’s any truth at all in that then they’re obviously only after your money!’ interrupted Michelle.
Marlena put a hand on Ari’s arm. ‘Do remember, darling, today’s cock of the walk is tomorrow’s feather duster,’ she said.
Everyone laughed, including Ari. The friends were all very much at ease in each other’s company, and with the banter, sometimes quite edgy, which was inclined to dominate their time together.
Menus were passed around and studied even though they all knew the contents well. But there were always the Sunday specials of course. This week grilled salmon with garlic mash, chicken fricassee and roasted pumpkin risotto.
It took some time to sort out the food order for everyone, amid plenty more noisy banter. The waiters were patient and smiley. They gave every impression of enjoying the presence of this lively and high-spirited group.
The friends had great energy when they were together. They met at Johnny’s to have as much fun as possible. That was what Sunday Club was for, and why it had become a fixture in their lives.
Two
It was Karen, the group’s earth mother, who made the suggestion that was to ultimately have such devastating consequences. But she didn’t know that then, of course. And neither did any of the other nine men and women sitting round the table that Sunday night.
‘Why don’t we play The Game?’ Karen asked, after everyone had settled down a bit. ‘We never have with all of us together here. I can’t even remember if we’ve all actually been here together before. I suppose we must have, but...’
George, the actor, groaned theatrically, but the others recognized it as affectation and not a genuine reaction to the suggestion.
‘Oh let’s,’ said Michelle, who neither looked nor sounded much like a police officer when she was off duty.
‘If only you were more interesting, George, we wouldn’t need to play games,’ drawled the legendary Marlena.
Tiny and Billy, surely the ultimate gay men about town, concentrated on looking cool. As did Karen’s husband Greg. Young Ari, whom the group regarded as being thoroughly spoiled in spite of his protestations to the contrary, tried to look bored and rather too sophisticated for such a thing. But that was normal. In fact, by and large, the group all rather liked The Game, which involved one of them asking a question that everyone would answer in turn. It might be something playful and light, like what would they do if they won the lottery, or what had been the best holiday they’d ever had? Or it could sometimes be something that invited a more thoughtful response. What was their greatest regret? Or what would they want to be or do in life other than what they were or did?
It was Sunday Club’s version of the Truth Game, but the emphasis was on entertaining conversation rather than revelation. Regardless of the subject matter, all ten of them knew they were obligated by the very ethos of Sunday Club to attempt to be amusing or surprising or shocking — preferably all three — both in their answers and in their reactions to the answers of the others. That was the whole point of The Game, though on this particular evening several of the group would fail to fulfil that obligation. After all, most people have secrets of some sort in their lives. Anyway, this was Sunday Club: nobody was going to be forced to reveal anything they didn’t wish to.
Since Karen was the one who suggested The Game, custom had it that she got to choose the question. She ran her hands through her spiky red hair, screwed up her eyes, and made a big show of giving the matter serious thought.
‘Has there been one great life-changing moment in your past, and what was it?’ she asked eventually.
Greg answered first. Quickly. Mischievously. His pale eyes sparkling disingenuously beneath a tousled fringe of mostly blond hair which, although now flecked with grey, remained abundantly curly, and still contrived to help him retain a boyish appearance.
‘When I met you, Karen, of course,’ he said, grinning, pleased with himself.
‘Oh, don’t be so daft!’ said Karen. But she seemed pleased too, if just a tad puzzled. With one hand she fiddled with the little steel spikes on a shoulder of her chunky black leather waistcoat. Karen dressed retro punk, but for all that she was earth mother at heart.
‘No, I mean it,’ Greg persisted. ‘I was Jack the lad. Me and my mate Wiz were a right pair. We got up to a lotta no good, and Wiz paid the price...’ Greg’s voice trailed off, his face momentarily clouding over.
‘What happened to him?’ asked Ari.
‘Oh, there was an accident. He died. We were at St Michael’s — that school they closed down ’cos it was so bad. Nothing saintly about that place, I can tell you. We got into a bit of a gang, that sort of thing...’
Greg paused, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. ‘But that’s another story,’ he continued in a brighter tone. ‘Anyway, I never thought I’d want to settle down with someone. Until I met Karen. She saved my arse, really, and all I wanted was to be with her and for her to have my kids.’
‘Aw,’ said Alfonso.
‘What a great softy you are,’ said Marlena.
‘That’s me, darlin’,’ replied Greg.
It was too. Certainly as far as his family were concerned. But it was most unlike Greg to make such a public declaration. Plus he was one of those who felt almost honour-bound to play everything for laughs. It was in his DNA. He had his cockney laughing-boy image to protect, and it wasn’t often that Greg let the act drop. Not for a moment. But just that morning he’d heard from someone he’d hoped never to hear from again. Indirectly. And rather obtusely. However, Greg was in no doubt that he’d been given a message. He was still sorting out exactly what that message was and how he was going to deal with it. But it had dredged up long-buried memories of Wiz, and St Michael’s, and a period of his life he regarded as the bad old days. And he knew it was unlikely to turn into anything other than bad news. For him. And even, Heaven forbid, for his wife and children.
Greg emptied his glass in one. A dribble of red wine escaped and ran down his chin, forming rivulets in his designer stubble. He wiped it away with the back of a hand.
‘Soft as shit,’ he muttered.