Читать книгу The Dinner Party - R. J. Parker - Страница 10

‘You didn’t have to think long either,’ Kathryn remarked icily and flattened her Mallen Streak to her forehead.

Rhys had his fingers cupped around the piece of paper he was scribbling on, his tongue protruding through his beard in concentration. ‘Ouch.’ He shook his aching hand. ‘Can’t remember the last time I had to write anything more than my signature.’ But still he hadn’t finished.

‘You’re going to run out of space in a minute.’ A sly smile tugged at the corner of Connor’s mouth.

Nobody else was joining in. Ted regarded the blank pastel notepaper and empty envelopes that Juliette had placed in front of everyone.

‘Well … I’m not doing this on my own.’ Rhys looked around guardedly at the others.

Nobody put a hand to the pile of pens in the middle of the table. Jakob had his arms folded defensively.

Connor turned to Evie. ‘And this worked for your colleague?’

Evie nodded.

‘How?’ Ted asked.

‘Well, she’s no longer divorcing her husband.’ Evie pursed her lips.

‘Maybe you can invite her along to our next evening so we can compare notes,’ Connor retorted dryly.

‘Yes, it would be good to meet her at last.’ Jakob straightened in his seat but didn’t uncross his arms. ‘What about you, Evie? You started this.’ He raised one fair eyebrow at her.

Evie put down her wine glass.

‘Well, I suppose as my husband is so eager.’ Kathryn eyed the pens.

‘It’s my suggestion. Jakob’s right.’ Evie plucked a pen and started to write on her paper.

‘No thinking time for you either?’ Jakob emptied the remains of the decanter into his glass.

Evie ignored him, finished and folded her piece of paper in half.

‘I’ll get us some more wine.’ Juliette scraped her chair out.

‘Is that a good idea?’ Ted had already counted four bottles opened between them. Another one wasn’t exactly going to improve the atmosphere.

‘Don’t look so worried.’ Juliette began to rise.

‘Hang on.’ Rhys held out his hand to her. ‘You don’t get out of it that easily.’ He folded his piece of paper. ‘I’m done. I’ll get the wine.’ He slid it inside its powder blue envelope and fixed his gaze on Evie. ‘Do we seal them?’

‘I suppose so.’ She slipped hers into her peach envelope.

Juliette settled back in her chair.

‘OK.’ Rhys made a show of licking the edge obscenely while he looked at Kathryn. Then he placed it delicately on the table and thumped it a couple of times with his fist.

As if in retaliation, Kathryn reached past him and snatched up a pen.

‘Shall I select something from the rack?’ Rhys headed to where it was mounted on the wall.

‘Whatever you fancy.’ Ted was watching the glances Orla was throwing Connor.

‘Crack on then.’ Orla nodded at the pens.

‘Then we can change the subject and have some cheese and port?’ Connor seized one.

‘Yes.’ Orla followed suit. ‘God forbid we should talk about anything meaningful.’ Her hand moved across the paper.

Ted suspected it was too late to prevent what Evie had instigated but tried regardless. ‘Maybe we should do this another time. It is getting late.’

Juliette picked up a pen. ‘Come on. We don’t want to be the last.’

‘Very suspicious,’ Rhys chuckled. ‘I wonder what a therapist would read into that?’

When Juliette started writing, Ted began to feel uneasy.

Jakob caught his eye. ‘What if we can’t think of anything?’

Evie bit her lip. ‘You’ll think of something.’

Jakob shook his head. ‘So, there’s obviously something you think I should write.’

‘Whatever you feel guilty about. Could be a small thing, could be a very big thing.’ She let that hang between them for a few seconds. ‘You’ll think of something.’ Evie nodded at the pens.

Jakob sighed, reluctantly grabbed one and started scratching at his paper.

‘We’ve got to have a talk about your wine cellar.’ Rhys peered at the bottle he’d withdrawn from the bottom of the rack.

Ted knew it was a Rhys leftover. ‘Better ones at the top.’

Rhys squinted at them through his specs. ‘If you say so.’

But suddenly Ted realized he was the only person who hadn’t written anything. He looked at the top of Juliette’s silver-grey bob as she concentrated. What could he commit to paper? Not that. He couldn’t put that moment into words, couldn’t physically register what he didn’t even want to think about. Not for the sake of Evie’s stupid party game.

But Juliette had to forgive him for whatever was in the envelope, burn it to release him from guilt. Was he tempted enough to risk giving the secret a physical presence before it was willingly destroyed? No. Think of something else. This was just a silly stunt. He’d drunk too much wine. If they were all sober, they’d all recognize how foolish this was.

Juliette’s pen moved across the paper. What exactly was she writing?