Page 3 of The Invitation

I open the door and get out on a grimace, pulling the lever of the seat to release it before climbing into the back, leaving the front seat for Charley. I smile at the Tesco shopping trolley that’s still in their front garden.

Abbie starts hitting her horn again as Charley dances around the car and chucks her bag into the footwell. She falls into the seat and brushes her curly strawberry-blond hair back while blowing out the side of her mouth. “Finally.”

Abbie ignores her light dig. “We remembered where the trolley came from.”

“Oh, where?”

“I pushed you home in it.”

Charley stills in her seat, thinking, as more flashbacks come to me, the three of us cackling like witches as we bumped Charley across the pavement. “That explains my bruised coccyx. I thought I’d slipped down the stairs.” She starts hitting the dash. “Go, go, go.”

We laugh as Abbie zips out of the space and zooms off down the road, Charley turning in her seat to look past me out the back window.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Feeling needy.”

“Do you want to stay?”

She snorts. “No, not a chance in hell. I just hate how he gets on with it. No signs of a fried brain or a knackered body. Nothing.” She throws herself back around in her seat. “Looking as perfect as he always does, and here’s me with slobber on my boobs and baby puke in my hair.”

“Ewww,” Abbie grumbles, moving away.

“Hey.” Charley turns again, looking me up and down. “Why the hell are you dressed for work?”

Abbie finds me in the mirror. “Because she’sbeento work,” she muses.

“Snitch.”

“Amelia!” Charley reaches back and smacks my bare knee. “I mean, I know you’re on the breakup diet of wine and work, but this is your thirtieth, for Christ’s sake. Even Lloyd’s taken the day off for it.”

“To look afteryourkids,” I point out. “So you can come and enjoy this spa day with your two oldest friends.” How have we known each other for twenty-three years? It’s crazy.

“A spa day!” Charley cries, clapping her hands. “I want all the fizz, fuss, and fantasies.”

“Fantasies?” Abbie asks. “We’re going to a spa retreat, not a sex club.”

“You know what I mean,” she mutters. “Fizz and fuss don’t feature in my life, therefore it’s fantastical.”

“Lloyd fusses over you all the time,” I reply tiredly. “Don’t pretend you’re not treated like a princess.” The man adores her. Even more so since she birthed his two offspring and now constantly sports puke in her hair. They were married in 2020, fell pregnant soon after, had Elijah in 2021, and fell with Ena when Elijah was one. It’s been full-on for the newlyweds, and we all know they’re loving their young family.

“You’re a fraud, Charley Chaytor,” I say on a smile.

“Maybe, but a little pamper day never hurt anyone.” She gives me her wide, toothy smile. “Happy birthday, chick.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly, smiling, my eyes falling to my silent phone. Because it’s off.

“Hey, anyone been charged yet for our night out last weekend?” Charley asks, looking between us.

“No, we were just talking about that,” Abbie says.

“But they said we paid, right? Because I’ll die if I can never go to my favourite restaurant again.”

“They said we paid,” I confirm.

She nods, frowning, returning her body forward. “So weird.”

Chapter 2

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