From Jackie Penticost: George, Muriel and Dahlia

Champagne raised aloft, George leans in to kiss Muriel’s powdered cheek. 

‘Don’t slobber, this is silk’, she hisses, smiling tightly.

George turned cheerily to the waiting crowd.   ‘She’s given me the best twenty-five years of my life.  Pity it’s our Golden wedding’ 

Muriel’s laugh tinkles like  shattered glass.  The crowd murmurs, and a couple of well-wishers slap George on the back.  Muriel’s friends gather like the ladies of the court around a doomed queen. ‘Well he is a one’. ‘I always said his eyes were too close’.

The happy couple circulate apart, picking a canapé here, a sausage roll there, choreographed like the spheres in the heavens.  They collide by the ice sculpture.  

George is jovial and puzzled with drink. ‘Who are all these people?  I don’t know the names of half these hangers on’

‘Well, you don’t have any friends, darling, so I had to think outside the box.  I sent out a blanket invite to your friends on Facebook.   I imagine these were the hungriest.’

George raises an eyebrow. ‘ I’d have ordered cheaper champagne if I’d known’.

Muriel shrugs. ‘Well it’s your pension. And we needed a crowd to pretend that we are popular’.

At the other side of the room, there is a commotion.  A tsunami of Chanel hits the crowd, which parts.  A large redhead launches herself across the space and sails towards George like the figurehead on a galleon.

Muriel, bracing for the onslaught, says  ‘She looks like over-risen dough in that dress’. She turns to George, and is unprepared for his expression, which is of utter panic. ‘Hit the spot, have I?’

George glares at her. ‘You have no idea’.

‘Georgy, Darling, too too long. And thanks for the invite.’  The redhead turns to Muriel.  ‘I’m Dahlia, George’s first love.  And you must be Muriel. I’ve heard so much about you’

Muriel stares into a generous décolletage.  ‘We must catch up then, because I haven’t heard a lot about you’.

Dahlia drapes an arm around  George’s neck, and he feels his oxygen levels drop as the Chanel overwhelms him.  ‘Oh, we go way back.   I was just a slip of a girl when George and I met, and there’s nothing like first love, is there?

‘Nothing’ seethes Muriel. 

‘When social media was invented, George was the first person I looked up.  We had so many memories together’

George, trapped in a meaty armpit, looks desperate. Dahlia drags him like an anchor towards the jellied salmon. 

‘George darling, your current wife is just delicious.’ she says, sizing up the spread.

‘Don’t cause trouble, Dahlia, please’.  

‘Oh no darling, I’m here to do you a favour.  I’ve had three husbands, and there’s nothing like a bi of jealousy to liven up a marriage.  Look round, we’re being shadowed’

The ladies of the court, Muriel’s inner circle, are standing close by, studying the salmon and craning to hear every last word. 

Dahlia drops her voice.    ‘Watch and learn, my sweet.  I’m about to give you the best Golden Wedding present a girl can bestow’

She raises her voice.   ‘You were the best I’ve ever had, George’  A large wink follows, and she grabs George by the shoulders.  Muriel’s gaze could bore holes in steel.

Dahlia drops a large Dior Red lipstick smacker full  on George’s lips, and stifling a sob, or possibly a chortle, she shoves off and flows out of the room.

Muriel and George are face to face, and there is a silent reckoning. They both smile at the same time.  ‘Ridiculous woman’ says George.  ‘Yes, ridiculous’ says Muriel, looking at George appraisingly.