The Birthday Girl: The gripping new psychological thriller full of shocking twists and lies. Sue Fortin

       Chapter 3

      The further north we head, the more convinced I am of our destination. ‘I think we must be going to Scotland,’ I say.

      ‘Scotland? That’s where Joanne went on holiday last year,’ says Zoe. ‘Her, Tris and the kids went pot-holing, canoeing, all that sort of stuff.’

      ‘Some holiday that was,’ says Andrea.

      Both Zoe and I look at Andrea blankly. ‘I thought they had a great time,’ I say.

      ‘Yeah, I’m sure they did.’ The sarcasm in Andrea’s voice is apparent.

      ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I say.

      ‘Ignore me. I meant all that outward-bound stuff Joanne does, not my idea of a holiday.’ Andrea gives me a sideways glance. ‘What?’

      ‘You know as well as I do that’s not what you meant.’

      ‘You don’t like Tris at all, do you?’ says Zoe.

      Andrea looks as if she’s about to protest, but the defiant part of her nature surfaces, fuelled by the earlier alcohol no doubt. ‘It’s a personality clash, nothing more.’

      ‘Bullshit.’ I give a fake cough from behind my hand, to which Andrea gives her best and totally unconvincing innocent look.

      ‘Ditto to that,’ says Zoe. She shifts position in her seat. ‘Why is it you don’t like him?’

      ‘If you must know, he fancies himself a bit too much,’ says Andrea. ‘Thinks he’s God’s gift to women.’

      I laugh. ‘He’s always been like that. I swear he takes longer getting ready than Joanne does. You should see all his beauty products. Anti-wrinkle this, healthy-glow that. He must spend a fortune.’

      ‘I rest my case,’ says Andrea.

      ‘Just because a guy looks after himself, it can’t be grounds for not liking him. That’s a bit shallow, even for you.’ There’s a prickly tone in Zoe’s voice and I sense Andrea’s mood shift.

      ‘It’s nothing to do with me being shallow, thanks very much. I do actually have other reasons.’

      ‘Such as?’ Zoe clearly has no intention of letting the matter drop.

      ‘Such as …’ Andrea pauses. ‘OK, if you must know, he made a pass at me once.’

      ‘What?’ both Zoe and I say in unison.

      ‘A couple of Christmases ago. You know, at that Boxing Day party we went to.’

      I nod and remember that was the last Christmas Darren had been alive. There had been a funny atmosphere that night and it wasn’t solely down to the argument Darren and I had had before we’d arrived. Joanne had been on edge and Tris was quite drunk early in the evening. I have looked back at that night many times since then and realised that Joanne’s daughter, Ruby, had already dropped her bombshell and the fallout was happening right before me, but in such slow motion, I hadn’t noticed.

      ‘Tris made a pass at you? Really? Are you sure?’ Zoe’s voice brings me back from my thoughts.

      ‘Of course I’m bloody sure,’ says Andrea. ‘Waiting for someone to come out of the loo and then bundling them up against the coat rack while you simultaneously try to stick your tongue down their throat and your hand between their legs, is actually more than just a pass.’

      Zoe’s face is a mix of anger and disbelief. ‘He did that? Tris groped you?’

      ‘I think the legal term is he sexually assaulted me,’ says Andrea.

      ‘Jesus,’ I mutter, letting out a long breath. ‘What happened? Did you tell Colin or Joanne?’ I wonder if this was the turning point between Andrea and Joanne. If this was where their friendship began to fray at the edges.

      ‘No. I didn’t,’ replies Andrea. ‘We were all pretty drunk. I pushed Tris away and told him to fuck off. He apologised and we laughed it off.’

      ‘Except you don’t sound like you’ve really laughed it off,’ I say.

      ‘Not exactly. So, you can see why I’m not Tris’s biggest fan.’ Andrea looks at Zoe.

      ‘I can’t believe it. Not Tris,’ says Zoe, and then adds rapidly, ‘I mean, I do believe you, but I never thought Tris would do something like that. Why would he? No offence.’

      ‘None taken,’ says Andrea. ‘I know I’m hard to resist …’ She gives a smile and the tension in the air eases. ‘I’d like to say it was the alcohol, but Tris is all about strutting his stuff, he’s such a poser. I think he tries to make up for his lack of prowess in the bedroom.’

      I shake my head. Honestly, Andrea is terrible sometimes.

      ‘And what do you mean by that?’ demands Zoe. She must catch the surprised look my face involuntarily offers at the defensive tone in her voice because she quickly clarifies her question. ‘I mean, how do you know? Joanne’s never said anything to me about … bedroom stuff.’

      ‘It’s not for me to say.’ Andrea looks at us and I can tell that, despite that caveat, she is going to say. ‘But, you know how Joanne loves to oversee everything?’ We both nod and let Andrea continue. ‘Well, that extends to the bedroom. She once told me that she had no intention of letting Tris have the upper hand, that he may be the qualified psychologist, but she was far superior at the mind games.’

      ‘To be honest, that doesn’t surprise me,’ I say, contemplating our friend. ‘Joanne’s not very good at taking instruction from anyone.’

      ‘And I should know,’ says Andrea. ‘If she wasn’t my friend, I’m sure I would have sacked her by now, or at least put her on a disciplinary for the way she talks to me, especially in front of the other staff. Honestly, you’d think she was the bloody owner, not me!’

      Before the conversation can continue, the plane banks to the right and the pilot’s voice comes over the intercom, informing us that we should fasten our seatbelts to prepare for landing.

      As I tighten the belt across my lap, I look over at Andrea. Her latest revelations and insight into Joanne’s marriage only serve to confirm my own private thoughts; we may all be friends but there’s so much we don’t know about each other. We all have our secrets and I, for one, intend to keep it that way.

      ‘I think we’re landing in a bloody field,’ says Andrea, as she looks out of the window. Both Zoe and I do our best to see the ground below us. There’s no sign of a runway anywhere.

      A minute later the wheels of the aircraft touch down on to grass and we are bumped and jolted as we make our landing. Zoe gives a little screech at one point, but the pilot is obviously experienced and once all three wheels have made contact with the ground, the speed slows rapidly and the engine purrs in a gentle contented way as we taxi along.

      ‘We