Vodka Espresso

5. dinner

June, 2017

Ingrid picked out a sleeveless wine-red jumpsuit, loose on her legs and snug on her torso, with a deep but decent cleavage and a black belt accentuating her waist. She let her dark, shoulder-length hair hang free and stepped into a pair of tall, black sandals.

She stopped to knock on Edgar's door before she left because he hadn't given her the house keys, after all.

"Sorry to bother you, I just wanted the keys."

He scanned her from head to toe and couldn't do much to hide the quiet admiration in his eyes. She smiled, flattered.

"Right, sorry. Hold on a bit."

He left his door ajar, walked back into the room and rummaged around. He came back with a single key.

"Front door only, for now. Call me any time if something's the matter."

She tucked the key into a secluded pocket of her purse. "Will do, thanks...Ian." That name didn't come easy to her, but if she called him Edgar out loud, she knew they'd both lose it. "Good night."

"Have fun," he smiled back at her.

Ingrid walked to the nearest underground station and checked her wristwatch on the platform. The relatively central location of the Brennan house put her within ten, maximum twenty minutes of the restaurant she had to reach. It wasn't as expensive a place as it looked, but they still used to have to save up for it when they were students. Eating there now would be a treat.

Ingrid arrived first and claimed a seat at their reserved table, from which she could see both the exit and across the street through the glass walls of the restaurant. She was a couple of minutes early and guessed everyone else would be several minutes late. The waiters started her off with a complimentary glass of rosé, but she declined the hors d'oeuvre.

Agata arrived second and the two women had only just finished their hug when Rose and Liz waltzed in, holding hands. Freddie soon followed, demanding the hors d'oeuvre, and they were all out of bruschetta by the time Sienna also graced them with her presence.

Up until she made her grand entrance, a general state of merriment had dominated the women's table. However, as soon as Agata spotted the sleek black Mercedes which Sienna stepped out of, a strange tension silenced the gathering.

"Get ready, everybody," Agata called out, "here she comes."

There were a couple eye-rolls and straight faces cracking under the pressure of a snort of laughter. Rose sighed at the change in atmosphere.

"Sienna's been different to us since she got married," she explained to Ingrid. "And it got worse after she had her baby." The woman in question was approaching, so Rose leaned closer to Ingrid. "I pity her, really. I don't think she's happy."

Ingrid could see what the fuss was all about the moment Sienna came into view. She out-dressed every single one of them and had a necklace which, from her own experience as the spoiled wife of a rich man, Ingrid could tell was made of authentic gemstones. Ingrid got up and welcomed the emotional embrace with open arms.

"Oh, my goodness!" Sienna nearly cried, holding her tight. "It really is you! I can hardly believe my eyes!" She grabbed Ingrid's hand and did not seem like she was about to let go any time soon.

They'd saved her a seat next to the guest of honour and Sienna accepted it while still holding onto Ingrid's hand. Agata sat on the other side of her former roommate, Freddie next to her, then Lisette, and Rose completed the circle by Sienna's side.

They ordered more wine and a full-course dinner, although Sienna had to leave before dessert. Up until her departure, she steered the conversation either toward Ingrid or her own baby and her newfound struggle with maternity. Her every third or fourth word was either 'husband' or 'Patrick' and every time she asked Ingrid about her life since they'd last met, she inevitably slipped back to her own issues after Ingrid had uttered two or three sentences.