Page 27 of Such a Good Couple
‘Maggie’s a theatre person!’ Clara piped up.
‘Oh, I’m not,’ Maggie protested, looking awkward. ‘I did a few nothing bits back in the day. That’s all done, it was—’
‘Maggie!’ Annie hated hearing her friend demoting her work to a footnote. It also made her realise with deep sadness that she hadn’t heard Maggie talk about theatre in years. She turned to Geraldo. ‘Maggie was called “a powerful and beguiling new voice” byThe Guardian.’
‘Yeah in 2013 when I was thirty!’ Maggie scoffed. ‘Anyway, tell us about the dune shacks. I feel like I’m remembering something now … about a commune or something?’
‘So,’ Geraldo settled himself back in his chair, ‘the dune shacks are about two miles out of town, nestled in, you’ve guessed it, the dunes. There’re nineteen or so of them left at this stage though there were more when they were built by the Coast Guard to house rescue teams back in the late 1800s. It’s a wild place over there, there’s no electricity or running water. Some of the shacks have literally fallen into the sea since then, others have been bulldozed – a crime.’ He shook his head. ‘It should be a historic site. Jack Kerouac wrote part ofOn the Roadthere. Norman Mailer and Jackson Pollock and E.E. Cummings holed up there to do their work. To think they’ve boarded up some of them. The one positive is that artists can enter a lottery to spend weeks out there on kind-of residency things.’
‘Wow, that’s amazing. Though also nightmarish.’ Clara laughed. ‘I’d probably die without my phone. Too much time with my thoughts.’ She speared an asparagus. ‘So the dead celebrities loved it here. But who are the current celeb residents? We heard the Coen brothers had places …’
‘They do!’ Geraldo nodded. ‘They’re soooo nice, I’ve been over to Joel’s place for cookouts. Who else comes here? Let’s see …’He casually reeled off a veritable galaxy of stars. ‘You know what, though … it’s not the P-town vibe to totally lose it over these A-listers, yanno? We don’t fawn.’
‘Hmmm.’ Maggie was doing a committed impression of being engrossed in her crab salad but Annie sensed she wasn’t comfortable in this territory.
‘Like,’ Geraldo lowered his voice conspiratorially, ‘the more interesting ones are very low-key. Edwin Ensel – you know that director who’s supposed to be very eccentric – he’s apparently out in one of the dune shacks right now, working on some new film. Though without electricity, God knows how. He’s probably writing the thing with a quill! In his own blood! I hear he has some very odd little peccadilloes. A voyeur.’ Geraldo arched a brow. ‘Apparently when he’s auditioning actors he likes to observe them without their knowing. Then,’ Geraldo grinned, ‘you have the celebs who think they’re big shots. It’s very funny, they get annoyed when no one cares about them! Like I’ve heard that Finn Strong is coming this waytodayno less! My money’s on him doing a bit of this. These ones are like the nouveau riche only they’re the nouveau famous. He’ll come in all dick swinging then be furious when no one wants an autograph.’
Maggie’d completely frozen. Clara was holding her breath and Annie pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. Then Maggie snorted and set them all off.
‘What?’ Geraldo was looking from one to the other as they howled.
‘Nothing, nothing.’ Maggie wiped her eyes. Then immediately started laughing again.
‘It’s just the mental image: swinging dicks,’ Clara said helpfully, to redirect the conversation.
‘Well,’ Geraldo raised his glass, ‘our next stop is nothingbutswinging dicks! Eat up, girls, the tea dance starts in thirty minutes.’
There were about seven women and about seven hundred impossibly gorgeous, impossibly fit men at the Boat Slip, which was the club and hotel that hosted the enormous outdoor tea dance. There was a pool and bars and Geraldo had even booked them a private cabana from which to savour all the action. He left them there, disappearing off to find his friends. Music blared and muscles gleamed under the afternoon rays. Annie had finally succumbed to some booze and was feeling at a pleasant remove from her real life. Well, a tiny remove at least.
‘I have to send this to the family chat!’ Maggie was filming the melee. ‘They will die over this.’
‘The sheer beauty of this crowd.’ Clara was in her chair, in a neon orange bikini, legs crossed, scanning the heaving ocean of masculinity. ‘It’s so hard to look at them knowing that they’re all fundamentally repelled by me and my vagina.’
‘They may notallbe. Some could be pan or bi.’ Maggie was hunched over her phone captioning her video. Annie could see the strap of Maggie’s bikini tied in a knot at the back of her neck. When Annie and Clara stripped down to their togs, Maggie had said she’d forgotten to wear hers.
Annie felt the familiar pull of anxiety. Maggie being so preoccupied with how she looked was old territory. Bad territory. And there’d been the unmistakable smell from the restaurant toilet the night before. Though as the hours had passed since, Annie’d started to question her suspicion. It was a public toilet, after all. Maybe it wasn’t fair to assume it was Maggie’s doing. Maggie had been in recovery for nearly twenty years; if she seemed on edge, it was far more likely to be because she hadn’t seen Fionn since reading the stupid blind item.
‘I should shift one of these beautiful men.’ Clara had now pulled her sunglasses down to better assess the offerings at the tea dance. ‘The perfect fuck-you to Ollie “I had such a good time. The best yet” Delaney.’
‘Will they get a say?’ Maggie put the phone aside and sat back on her lounger, drawing her knees up. Without the strap of the halter bikini in sight, it was easier for Annie to gloss over her friend’s lie. Anyway, Maggie was a grown woman – if she didn’t want to be half naked in the afternoon with a pack of strangers, that was her prerogative.
‘I just want something to throw back in Ollie’s face when Idoconfront him, and this is what’s available currently.’ Clara stood, presumably to get a better view.
‘Would having an adult discussion not be the better option?’ Annie couldn’t think of anything worse than flirting with a gay man. Their standards were so high for beauty it was intimidating, but Clara did not lack confidence.
‘I would be throwing it in his face in thecourseof an adult conversation.’
‘Ah yes, the Revenge Shift, a cornerstone of every adult conversation,’ Maggie said wryly, her eyes closed.
‘You wouldn’t get it. I feel so humiliated …’ Clara trailed off, apparently belatedly realising what she’d just said and to whom. ‘Gah, fuck, I’m sorry, Maggie.’ She threw Annie a pleading ‘help me’ look.
Annie swooped in. ‘Clara means that … like … em …’ She trailed off as Maggie sat up and eyed them both, looking half-amused, half-exasperated.
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Your husband’s very possibly having an affair. Everyonethinksmine is. We’re probably even in the humiliation stakes. Youshouldgo catch a gay.’
‘You’re dead fucking right.’ Clara threw her shoulders back and stormed in the direction of the bar. ‘I’ll get drinks on my way back,’ she shouted over her shoulder.
‘You shouldn’t have encouraged that!’ Annie swung her legs off the lounger and faced Maggie.
