Joy looked on as the new member of staff was being shown around the office. Beverley was the new operations manager. As soon as Joy met Beverley, she knew they were going to get along. There was something sophisticated about her. Joy was immediately intrigued. From the designer handbag she carried, to the silk scarf knotted around her neck, and her flawless styled hair. For the office, Joy wore her standard work attire, a blouse and dark trousers, with her hair tied into a pony-tail. Her new colleague seemed positively glamourous compared to the rest of her co-workers. 

Beverley looked like the type of person who was always well-turned out. Joy couldn’t imagine Beverley slobbing out on Sunday morning in her jogging bottoms, like she and her husband Paul did. Her new colleague had really created quite the impression. 

At lunch-time, a couple of days later, Joy spotted Beverley in the office canteen. She was eating salad from a plastic tub and sipping a water bottle. And, she was alone at the table. Joy hurried over. She pointed at the empty chair across from her and asked if anyone was sitting there. 

Beverley shook her head, knock yourself out, hun. Joy placed her pre-packed supermarket sandwich and bottle of cola down and took a seat.

‘How are you finding your first few days with us, Bev?’ Joy asked.

‘Oh, it’s going well. I’m really enjoying finding my feet. I’ve been in the industry for a few years, so it’s all good. And it’s Beverley, not Bev.’ 

‘Sorry, yes, of course.’ Joy said, feeling her cheeks redden.  

‘Tell me about you, Joy isn’t it?’ Bev said with a smile. 

Joy explained that there wasn’t really that much to say. She had been with the firm for just over five years, was married to Paul, and had a golden retriever called Lennon, called that as her husband was a massive Beatles fan. 

Beverley nodded with interest as Joy was speaking. When she had finished picking at her salad, Beverley got to her feet. She snapped her lunch-box shut before pointing a manicured fingernail at Joy.

‘We should get together, outside of this place. What do you say?’ she asked.

‘Yes, yes, absolutely.’ Joy gushed.

As Beverley headed back to her desk, Joy finished her sandwich, delighted that her new colleague seemed to reciprocate the friendship. Before heading back to work, Joy text her husband enthusing that the new colleague she had told him about, had suggested meeting up. This was big news. 

A few Saturday’s later, having swapped mobile phone numbers and after lots of messages back and forth, Joy and Paul called round to the home that Beverley shared with her husband. They lived in Charleston, a leafy suburb, across the river from the town of Barton, where Joy lived. 

As the taxi pulled into the sweeping driveway, Paul whistled at the size of the house. It was a mansion compared to their two-bedroom terraced house. Joy gave him a gentle pat on the arm, telling him he had to behave this evening, don’t go showing me up.

Beverley and her husband hovered on the doorstep, eager to welcome them.

‘Welcome, guys, welcome.’ Beverley said. ‘This is my husband, Richie.’

Richie was wearing a cricket jumper knotted over his shoulders, and red chino trousers. He shook Paul warmly by the hand and kissed Joy on both cheeks, bidding them both Enchanté. 

Beverley ushered them into the house. Joy tried to contain how impressed she was by the house. It wouldn’t do to act like they were not used to the more refined things in life. The trick was to act like you belonged, then people would accept you. They were shown into what Richie called the drawing room. 

‘You’ve got a room just for drawing in?’ Paul laughed.

Joy shook her head in disapproval, but Beverley chuckled.

‘Aren’t you a hoot?’ she said. 

When they were settled in the drawing room, on leather chesterfield settees, Richie asked if he could get them a drink.

‘I’ll have a beer.’ Paul said.

Joy wished she would have discussed more fully how they should conduct themselves before they arrived. She gave a polite smile, and asked what they were having to drink.

‘I was thinking a gin and tonic. GandT anyone?’ Beverley said.

‘GandT for me, please.’ Richie said, raising his hand, playfully. 

‘Me three, please.’ Joy said, putting her hand up.

‘Wonderful,’ Beverley said, turning to her husband. ‘didn’t I tell you, we were going to get on famously?’

Beverley returned with their drinks a few moments later. She handed Paul a cold can of lager. He took the can, cracked it open and took a long swig. It was then he noticed Beverley was offering a glass. Joy shot him a stern look. Paul thanked Beverley and took the glass, pouring the drink, rather than drinking from the can as he usually did. 

The evening went well, Joy had to rein Paul in a little, with a nod here or a glare there, and she kicked him under the table when he started telling his awful jokes, but the two couples did get on well. Joy was delighted that Beverley and Richie seemed to be enjoying their company too. 

On the taxi ride home, Joy explained to her husband how pleased she was with the evening. 

‘They’re a bit of class, them two. They are the type of people we should be mixing with, not your darts team and their wives.’ Joy said.

‘There’s nothing wrong with the darts lads, and you’ve always got on with them and the girls.’ Paul said.

‘Yes, but we can do better, we owe it to ourselves, love.’ Joy said. 

‘Do you not think they’re a bit up themselves?’ Paul asked.

‘It’s a different world, Paul, and one which, if we play our cards right we can be a part of.’ she said.

Joy felt as though she had been given a glimpse of another world. She couldn’t help feeling envious of her new friend. Beverley had it all, the nice house, the large garden. Beverley had joked at how she found herself cleaning up before the cleaner came over. Joy had laughed a long, not wanting to admit that they do not have someone who cleaned their house for them. Richie had added that there was no way he was mowing the lawn before the gardener came. 

A few days later, while they were both dining on salad in the work canteen, they discussed their plans for the weekend. Joy said she and Paul would possibly go over to their local pub, the Cross Keys, for a few drinks on Saturday night. 

‘They have karaoke on at nine o’clock.’ Joy added.

Beverley’s polite smile told Joy she had said the wrong thing. Joy swore to herself. Of course. There was no way a classy lady like Beverley would be in the Lion on the karaoke on a Saturday night.

‘And what about you, what are you upto at weekend?’ Joy asked.

Beverly detailed how Richie was playing in a golf competition at his club first thing, and in the afternoon, they would probably go to the gym for a work-out followed by a sauna and a steam-room.

‘Which gym do you go to?’ Joy asked. None of the gyms she had ever been to had anything more than cardio equipment and weights, certainly no saunas.

‘We are members at Lloyd Davies. It’s a lovely place, well worth the membership fees.’ Beverley said.

Joy nodded. She had heard of the swanky health club, and seen the advertisements. They aimed to be more of a health spa and country club, rather than somewhere you went to burn off calories and work up a sweat. The adverts boasted of tennis and squash courts and even a wine-bar and award winning restaurant. The gym Joy used to go to had a well-stocked vending machine in the entrance. 

Over the next few weeks, Joy and Beverley became close friends. They would meet every lunch-time and chat over their salads, and there were regular nights out. Beverley and Richie would often have them over for dinner. Even that was special. With their usual circle of friends, Joy and Paul would have a take-away, usually a curry, Chinese or pizza, but their new acquaintances would cook food, placing it in dishes in the middle of the table. Joy and Paul were more used to eating pizza straight from the box. Saves on washing up, Paul would always joke. 

For Joy’s birthday, Beverley and Richie took her and Paul to a city-centre restaurant. The Quantity Surveyor was on Manchester’s exclusive King Street. As they entered Joy couldn’t help gasping. The place was just so classy, so chic. The walls were trendy red-brick, the light bulbs were bare, and there was jazz music playing. The cool music mixed with the chatter. One word came to Joy’s mind, ambience. 

Paul jerked a thumb at the bare brick walls and joked that the place would be nice when it was finished. Joy simply rolled her eyes. 

With Beverley and Richie guiding them, Joy and Paul dined on wonderful food. Paul struggled to pronounce some of the dishes, and he’d always thought chateaubriand was a fancy French wine, rather than a steak dish. And while Paul stuck to drinking beer, Joy enjoyed sampling the selection of wines that their new friends ordered. 

When the waiter, a thin man in a waistcoat, brought the bill, Joy and Paul tried not to hide their shock at the amount they had spent. Joy knew exactly what Paul was thinking. They had just spent a fortune on a meal, on one night out. With that much money, they could put towards a holiday.

‘Of course, this is our treat.’ Richie said.

‘Oh yes, a birthday treat.’ Beverley added.

‘It’s fine. I’ll put it on my card.’ Paul said, reaching for his wallet.

‘We insist, don’t we, love?’ Beverley said.

‘Absolutely. It’s the least we can do, we’ve had such a lovely evening.’ 

Joy could sense her husband’s reluctance to let them pay, but also the relief that they didn’t have to fork out so much for a meal. Indeed, if they had known the prices, Joy and Paul would have politely declined the meal, and suggested a few drinks somewhere in the city instead. 

As they were finishing their drinks, Beverley rummaged in the plastic carrier bag at her feet. She handed Joy a birthday present, perfectly wrapped with ribbons and bows. Joy thanked them both, while saying they really shouldn’t have.

When she unwrapped the gift, Joy giggled in delight. It was a genuine Sara-Lou handbag. These things sold for hundreds, if not thousands of pounds. But, she knew she couldn’t take this gift.

‘I can’t accept this. It’s just too much. These bags cost a fortune.’ Joy said.

‘It is one of my old bags, but I thought you’d like it.’ Beverley said.

‘I love it. Thank you so much.’

‘I’m glad it’s going to a good home.’

Joy reached over the table and hugged her new friends, thanking them again.

‘And what did Paul get you for your birthday?’ Beverley asked.

Joy showed off the new watch she was wearing.

‘Very nice. What is it?’ Richie asked.

‘It’s a watch.’ Paul said.

‘No, I mean what make is it?’

‘Well, it isn’t any make really. I saw the watch and thought she’d like it.’ Paul said.

‘And I love it.’ Joy said, turning her wrist to study her new watch more closely.

Beverley and Richie exchanged a glance, aww. There was something patronising about the way they were looking at her. Joy shook her head, in an attempt to clear the negative thoughts, and suggested they stop for drinks on the way home. 

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Richie said, finishing the last of his wine. 

As the weeks turn to months, the two couples grow closer and closer. There were endless dinner parties, drinks in wine-bars, Richie had even invited Paul to come along as a visitor for a round of golf at the club. Paul had given a wide grin.

‘Yeah, I don’t see why not but I’ll have to borrow some golf bats.’ Paul said.

While Paul laughed at the hilarity of his joke, Beverley and Richie smiled. Joy wasn’t sure they weren’t laughing at rather than with her husband. When Joy said he’d have to stop the bad jokes, Paul had replied that that was the reason the jokes were funny, because they were so bad. 

One lunch-time, Beverley was discussing a new tapas restaurant in town they had been to recently. It was called El Perro Negro and the ablondigas was just divine. 

‘Excellent. It’s our wedding anniversary next week. I might see if Paul fancies going.’ Joy said

‘Darling, it’s booked up for months in advance. You’ll be lucky if you can get a reservation before Christmas.’ Beverley scoffed. 

While her husband was unconvinced, Joy was impressed with the life-style of her new friends. Why shouldn’t they want to live a better life? What was wrong with having nice things and being aspirational? Beverley and Richie were a lovely couple, and had class and a taste for the finer things in life. Why shouldn’t Joy want to be part of this new world?

One evening as they were flaked out on the sofa watching television, Joy broached the subject.

‘Do you think we could move?’ 

‘How do you mean?’ Paul replied, eyes still on the TV screen.

‘I was thinking we could move house. Beverley was saying there’s a two-bedroom house near them. I think if we tighten our belts we should be able to afford it.’ 

‘There’s nothing wrong with this house. It’s our home. Why would you want to move to a similar size house somewhere else?’ He asked.

‘It’s where it is. It’s a nicer area.’

‘What’s wrong with Barton?’

‘What is right with it? There’s graffiti and police helicopters going over every night. I bet Beverley doesn’t have the police flying over as she’s going to sleep.’ Joy said.

‘There we go. It’s about those two, isn’t it? You want to be like them. Why can’t you be happy with things as they are, with the way we are?’

‘Why can’t I have nice things?’ 

‘You were happy with everything before they came along. I’ve not changed.’ Paul said.

Joy said nothing, feeling tears in her eyes.

‘Why do you want to move? We could move to a posh area, but we’d hardly have a penny. You’d be living in a nice area but wouldn’t be able to afford to go out.’ He said. 

Joy remained silent, but had to admit he did have a point about that. 

‘Have the nice things, treat yourself. You can use the money we’d have spent on moving. How’s that? I could even do a bit of over-time, and you’ve got that bonus coming. You could buy a nice handbag and book a table in a nice restaurant.’ Paul said. 

Joy couldn’t help getting upset. She just wanted something nice for herself, for the two of them, for a change. She was fed up with being the poor relation all the time. What about her and Paul? As if reading her mind, Paul spoke.

‘We’re the only ones that matter. Let them have their fancy friends and golf club. We’re happy, so who cares about that lot?’

‘I know what you mean, love. And I am happy with you, with us, but it’s for the both of us. I just want us to have nice things, have a life-style we can enjoy.’ Joy said.

‘I hear you, love.’ Paul said softly, throwing an arm around her.

‘Can we look into joining the health club? Beverley says she could get us a discount.’

‘Yeah, go on. I’m not getting in a flippin’ hot tub, though. I’m not one for the water, you know me.’ Paul said.

A few days later, Joy met Beverley in a coffee shop one afternoon. As they sipped their coffee and ate sponge cakes with forks, Joy explained how she was feeling. Seeing how Beverley lived had given her a taste of the finer things. She was working on talking Paul round to her way of thinking. He was a tough nut to crack, but they were making progress. They were both trying to compromise.

‘Life’s all about compromise, especially married life.’ Beverley said.

‘Exactly. We’ll sort it out. I suppose I’m just jealous.’ Joy said.

‘Jealous of who?’ 

‘Of you, of your life. You’ve just got it all, and it made me look at my life and the way we live.’ Joy admitted.

‘You think I have it all? I’m not so sure about that.’ Beverley said.

‘Yes, of course. You and Richie have such the life-style. Paul and I just seem to be living rather than have the life you guys have.’ Joy said.

‘It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’ Beverley replied.

‘How’s that?’ Joy asked.

Beverley placed her coffee cup down with a sigh.

‘The cleaner who comes over every week, she is Richie’s mistress. It’s no secret. He’s been seeing her for years. He’s also carrying on with half the women at the health club. Most of them are young enough to be his daughter.’ Beverley said.

‘And you are happy with that?’ Joy asked, shocked. 

‘I’m not happy about it, but I’m not unhappy, if that makes sense.’ Beverley said sadly.

Beverley forced a smile on her face.

‘How about we head somewhere else?’ Beverley said brightly. ‘It’s time for cocktails.’ 

As Joy sipped the expensive cocktail in the swanky bar, she couldn’t help thinking the drink, and the life-style she had been envious of, suddenly had a sour taste to it. She went over everything in her mind. While her friend had the handbags, the flash car, the social life, her husband was unfaithful. She had seen Beverley as having so much more than she did, but when it came down to it, if her partner was a cheat, what did she actually have? 

Paul might be set in his ways, and be proudly, painfully, working-class, but at least he was hers, he was loyal. They could count on each other. They were a team. Suddenly she felt very rich indeed. Yes, maybe they would try to live a little bit nicer, have some lovely things, for the two of them. Maybe she would try that nice bottle of wine with a film next week. Maybe they could start going out more, just the two of them, rather than spending all their free time slouched in front of the TV.

When Joy arrived home, Paul was waiting for her. He handed her a large bunch of flowers.

‘These are for you, love. And I’ve booked us a table tonight at the Indian restaurant. I know it’s not quite the tapas place-

‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’ Joy said.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom