Page 45 of Seven Reasons to Murder Your Dinner Guests
“Work parties or training days.”
“If your number’s coming, if we can’t stop this person in time,you don’t want to leave so much hurt behind. What Tristan says is true: Sometimes not acting can cause the most harm,” she says.
“Is he OK? Tristan, I mean. He seemed pretty unhappy today,” Melvin asks.
“He’s going through his own things,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s why I haven’t told him about this seven deadly sins theory. Plus, he’d think I’d well and truly lost the plot.”
Melvin sighs. “Maybe we all have.”
“Why don’t you open your envelope with me right now?” Vivienne suddenly suggests.
Melvin looks over at her, vivid blue eyes staring intently into his. He shrugs and pulls the envelope from his pocket.
“Looks like Gordon had a little look before handing it over,” he says. The envelope seal had clearly been pulled back and resealed.
“No surprises there,” says Vivienne.
“You do it,” Melvin tells her.
Vivienne takes it from him. She turns it over and starts to peel open the envelope.
“Ready?”
He nods.
You will die aged sixty-one.
“I’m nearly sixty,” he says.
Melvin stares at the number: sixty-one. Two years away, maximum, and actually, right now, the thought of two more years on this planet seems like two years too long. Melvin can’t see how hecan continue like this but also can’t see a way out.
“Do you mind if I keep this?” Vivienne asks, holding up the envelope.
“A clue?”
“Perhaps,” she says, pushing the envelope into her bag.
Vivienne excuses herself to “use the facilities,” so Melvin takes the opportunity to switch his phone back on. He has two more missed calls from Christian, a message from Mary listing out the options for starters at the restaurant. And there’s a message from an unsaved number:
Last night was fun. Let’s do it again soon N x
Melvin draws in a quick breath and pictures hefty, freckled shoulders, an endearing beer belly. N? Was it Nathan, or maybe Noel? What Melvin hasn’t told Vivienne is that he wasn’t with Christian last night. Christian was working late and Mary was visiting friends, so Melvin headed out into the night on his own. At one of the more low-key gay bars, he got to chatting with Nathan-or-Noel about rugby (not something that interests Christian). From beers, they moved to Jägermeister and Red Bull and ended up at a lock-in at an Irish pub where his new friend knew the landlord, who passed out some cocaine. Before Melvin knew it, he was waking up the next morning in a strange house somewhere near Finchley, shame seeping from every pore. Leaving the man sleeping, Melvin gathered his clothes and flagged down a taxi to take him straight to Janet’s wake. As he sees Vivienne make her way back to the table, he deletes the new message. Maybe he should be giving his number more thought. But right now, the tangled messof his personal life is more than enough for Melvin to worry about.
“Another wine, Vivienne?” he asks.
The Lecture
May 2017
Eight months later
Vivienne
The man blows his nose into a billowing white handkerchief and peers through wireless glasses at the menu.
“What to pick, what to pick,” he says, then sniffs twice.
“I think I’ll go for the sea bass,” Vivienne decides, pushing a strand of glossy hair behind her ear. That morning, Cat insisted on taking her to her own hairdresser, where she endured three long hours of highlighting, a dramatic cut, and various “treatments,” which, admittedly, did the impossible and tamed her frizzy hair. Vivienne isn’t convinced it will last one wash, but at the moment, she can’t stop touching it. Glancing over at her date, she tries to ignore the little voice in her head saying that her makeover is wasted on him. But she had promised Cat she’d give this one a chance.
