Beautiful Malice by Rebecca James Page A

a ghost.”
    I pull myself upright and glare down at her, and then I look at Ben, who at least has the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I say as coldly and as calmly as I can. “To see if Philippa is okay.”
    Alice lifts her shoulders dismissively, and I turn and walk away. I wonder if Robbie will return to the table and see what I’ve just seen, or if he doesn’t see it, at least sense that something very odd is going on. I don’t particularly want Robbie to see Alice’s hand between Ben’s legs; it pains me to imagine his hurt and humiliation, and I don’t want the evening to end in drama and tears and painful recriminations. But Alice is humiliating Robbie and he deserves better, and there’s a definite part of me that wants Alice to be punished for it, a part of me that wants to see Robbie slap her face and dump her for good. And yet I still have a small and ridiculous (but persistent) hope that everything will miraculously turn out all right—that Alice will stop acting so crazy, apologize, so the three of us will be able to go home happy and laughing, return to normal.
    But even if Robbie does see Alice touching Ben, it may not be the end of their relationship. After all, I’ve just learned that Alice had sex with someone else while they were on vacation and Robbie still wants to be with her. I’ve really no idea how much Robbie would put up with from Alice, but I’m concerned and quite sad to think that my friendship with Alice may have just changed irrevocably. She has been so unkind tonight, so deliberately cruel to both me and Robbie—and to Philippa—that I don’t think I’ll be able to trust her again. At least not so blindly. Right now, I’m not even sure that I like her anymore.
    In the bathroom one cubicle door is closed, and I assume that Philippa is hiding inside.
    “Philippa?” I tap gently on the door.
    There’s no answer, but I sense her become stiller, quieter.
    “Philippa. It’s me, Katherine. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
    “Katherine?” I see her shadow move beneath the door and then she unlatches and opens it. “Thank goodness it’s you,” she says. “I thought you might be Alice.”
    Her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks have bright red stains of color on them. She looks as though she’s been crying.
    “Are you all right?” I say.
    “Yes.” She puts her hand over her mouth and looks down. When she has composed herself, she looks up again and smiles. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
    She goes to the sink and washes her hands, catches my eye in the mirror.
    “So what are they doing out there?” she asks.
    “Oh.” I look away from her reflection. “Just talking, waiting for the food, you know.” I’m not sure what she’s seen, don’t know how upset she is.
    “So Alice and Ben aren’t screwing on the table yet?”
    “What?” I say.
    She laughs curtly, checks her face in the mirror, touches her hair. “I don’t care if they are, you know. I couldn’t care less. Ben’s a creep. I hardly know him. This is only the second time we’ve been out together.”
    “Really?” I stare at her. “So he’s not your boyfriend?”
    “No way.” She shakes her head. “God, no. Give me a little more credit than that.”
    I am smiling now, with relief and amusement.
    She grins back at me and then tips her head and laughs delightedly at the ceiling. She laughs loudly and happily, as if she’s been holding it in, and I realize that she hasn’t been in the stall crying at all. “Alice had her hand on Ben’s thigh. He thought I couldn’t see. She knew I could. I can’t tell you how truly embarrassing it was sitting there like that, playing her weird, psycho little game. Completely surreal … I wish I’d said something. But I’m never quick enough, I can never think of something witty or intelligent to say when I’m in a situation like that.” She pauses for a moment, then looks at me more seriously. “What is it with her?