Page 34 of A Midlife Gamble

But Kay didn’t answer.

Helen looked at her. The whole time they had been waiting, Kay, she'd noticed, had watched almost mesmerised as the slot had rolled around and around. 'You ok?' she said now.

Kay startled. 'Yes,' she said. 'Fine.'

'They are addictive,' Helen said. 'Even just watching them. I'm glad I'm not a gambler.'

And once again, Kay didn't answer.

15

Two days of hectic sightseeing passed, Tony as an occasional guide. They’d ridden the Deuce bus up and down the strip, seen the Sphinx, had their photo taken with Big Elvis. They’d watched the Bellagio fountains pop and jerk to Billie Jean, gazed at flamingos cruising a cement-lined pool, tasted Coke flavours from around the world and tried as many different colours of M&Ms, from the M&M shop, as were made. Helen still couldn’t get over this. A shop that sold nothing elsebutM&Ms? Having decided they should all choose at least one thing, she had opted for the CSI experience. She was even wearing her t-shirt today:People lie, evidence doesn’t.She’d bought one in extra-large as well. For Lawrence. A little reminder of the secret second mortgage he'd taken out to fund his Everest trip.

They’d taken another walk along the strip, this time in sneakers, and this time at night. But it had been just as hot, and every few minutes they’d had to loiter in the doorways of various restaurants, where misting fans blew preciously cool air. It was always older women, Helen had noticed, taking refuge alongside them, yanking open t-shirts as they turned their faces to the welcome mist. They’d passed men bearing sandwich boards:Ride Over the Grand Canyon, andguys sporting fraternity letters. Micky and Mini Mouse, who were clearly going through some marital strife, and Darth Vader, rasping like a man in need of a pair of resuscitation paddles. Water grottoes and waterfalls, indoor rainstorms and colour changing fog. A grove of olive trees, a gangplank of pirates, a lone leprechaun. Donny Osmond's face, twenty storeys high, and too-many-to-count, three-feet-long plastic tubes filled with brightly coloured liquids… greens, oranges, pinks.

What is that?Helen had called at a man slurping from a green tube.A three-foot daiquiri,he’d laughed. Of course it was! And of course she’d bought one, the words of that thong-wearing angel ringing in her ear:You haven’t lived, girl!Marianne had chosen orange, Kay pink. Only Caro had declined, and as they’d walked along, slurping and staring at the extraordinary sights, Helen had had to concede, the angel was right. She really hadn’t lived. What was she doing, putting dinner-parties on a list of things she really, really wanted to do, when all this world was out here waiting to be experienced? For the first time since Cyprus, she felt alive! One hundred and a thousand percent alive! Anything felt possible. She was after all, younger today than she ever would be again. Which meant she was at her youngest! She did not feel like a grandmother. She was not thinking of the house and how to proceed with a divorce and, for the first time since she’d heard them, she’d even forgotten those wordsIt was a mistake. Vegas was a city for starting over and starting again. A city where anything went. And its freewheeling, can-do, live and let live spirit (along with the rum from the daiquiri) rushed her veins like a drug.

Caro’s choice of tourist activity had been the Bellagio Conservatory and Botanical Gardens, which, despite the fake orange trees and pumped-in floral fragrance that had Caro sneezing the entire time, had turned out to be an oasis of calm, the yin to the yang that made Vegas, as far as Helen was concerned, such an extraordinary experience.

That was yesterday; today it was Marianne’s turn to decide and she had chosen Madame Tussauds. After which, Tony had pulled an ace from his pocket and invited them all to an afternoon at his ranch, followed by a barbecue under the stars. It sounded wonderful and Helen was as excited as any kid in any sweet shop. Kay too was glowing. She was, Helen could see, thoroughly enjoying herself and it was a joy to witness.

But first came breakfast. Again. Which didn't seem possible. It felt to Helen like she'd only finished eating five minutes ago.

‘I’m not even hungry,’ Kay sighed, as they stood clutching plates to their stomachs like a row of orphans.

Helen looked behind her. The queue for breakfast seemed even longer today than it had been the day before. Behind them stood an elderly couple, and behind them a group of men trailing suitcases, their crumpled clothing and exhausted faces testament to the journey that had brought them here. Beyond them, two young women, still dressed from the night before, heels and handbags and slinky dresses and glitter eyeshadow.

‘Have they been out all night?’ Caro whispered.

Helen turned. ‘I hope they had a better time than I did.’

‘How do you feel now?’ Kay asked.

‘I’m still full from dinner,’ Helen groaned. Dinner had been another enormous buffet. Foot-long steamed crab legs, Cajun dirty rice, gumbo and sushi, all piled onto one plate. More in one meal than she usually consumed in a week. All prepped, cooked and served. How on earth were you meant to refuse? Perhaps, she considered now, by remembering the after effects. She’d been in and out of the bathroom at least three times during the night.

‘You know,’ Kay said, ‘the waiter yesterday told me that the amount of seafood consumed in Vegas is more than the rest of the United States combined.’

‘Well, no one can say I didn’t do my part,’ Helen muttered. ‘I consumed enough for California. Why do I always overeat?’ She put a hand on her belly and grabbed a fistful of flesh. ‘Ugh.’

‘We could always skip breakfast,’ Caro said.

‘I need to sit down,’ Kay sighed. ‘I need a coffee before I can face another Elvis.'

‘That’s it,’Helen gasped, half an hour later. She pushed her plate away. ‘Now I really am stuffed.’ Leaning back in her chair, she undid the button and then the zipper on her shorts. ‘Why did I eat all that? Hash browns? Bacon and sausage? I don’t even know what breakfast ham is, but it doesn’t stop me eating it!’

Kay laughed.

And beside Kay, Caro smiled. Having spent a considerable amount of time in luxury hotels serving luxury breakfasts, she had built up a resistance to laden buffet tables. She was practised in restraint. ‘Does anyone know what time we’re leaving for the ranch?’ she said.

Opposite, and barely meeting her eye, Helen gave a quick shake of the head before picking up her phone.

‘Not sure,’ Kay said lightly.

Caro nodded.

Helen’s reluctance to engage with her remained painfully obvious, and short of confronting her, Caro didn’t know what to do. It was true they hadn’t seen much of each other since Kay's operation. But the few times they had met, Caro had gone away feeling reassured that their friendship had been sufficiently repaired. Last August had been receding, a kink that the perpetual pull of time, she’d thought, would eventually straighten out and maybe flatten altogether. It was this feeling that had propelled her into booking the trip, intodoing something spontaneous.And Helen, she'd presumed, had felt the same. Otherwise, why would she have thrown that Christmas dinner party? It wasn’t just for Kay, Caro was sure of that. And it had been such fun. Almost like old times, only better for Caro actually, because the happiness she'd felt with Shook had been such a different sort of happiness than she’d ever experienced in her younger years. She’d been excited to introduce him properly to Helen, keen to gauge her reaction and… Coffee cup at her lips, Caro’s face froze, her eyes wide as she stared across the restaurant. She’d also been keen to let Lawrence see, once and for all, that there would be no more room for his sly flirting… But he’d slobbered in her ear and stuck his hand up her skirt. The heat of memory struck, her cheeks warmed and all around a thousand pieces of crockery fell silent. The restaurant blurred, as something new came into an uncomfortably sharp focus… The fleeting, barely there, reflection that had moved across the window of Helen’s living room and then vanished. A movement that hadn’t lasted more than a second, that Caro had, with the nerves of presenting the tickets, forgotten about almost immediately. Shook had come back into the room and stood close to her and any fear she might have harboured that the shadow had been him had melted away with his reassuring smile, dissipated in the deep waters of unconsciousness, as she’d turned the light of her mind to the moment and concentrated on Kay. Yes, Kay’s delight, her genuine surprise and the sure knowledge that she had gotten it right. She had, perhaps for the first time in her life, pulled off something spontaneous and gotten it right. She hadn’t, not even for a moment, given any further thought to the shadow. So now, as the realisation arrived for the very first time, it was so cold and so bright it made her wince, and sent a ripple of goosebumps along her arm. Helen had seen. Helen had seen Lawrence’s hand up her skirt, his face so close to her own. It was the last brick removed in the dam of misunderstanding between them. It had to be, because everything flowed now. Everything made sense.

‘I think we should get it sorted,’ Kay was saying.

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