The Intimates by Guy Mankowski

to account for its actions.”
    “What you are trying to say then, is that you have invited Vincent's father and that he is on his way. Is that right?” Graham asks.
    “Francoise, you wouldn't do that to me. It would destroy our evening,” I say.
    “It wouldn't be so bad, would it?” Elise asks, and James and Graham shoot her a look. Barbara is dancing on the edge of the fountain with Franz, looking for her lost high heel.
    “Francoise,” James hisses. “If he comes here tonight Barbara will kill him. No arguments, no uncomfortable silences. Barbara will simply kill him.”
    Francoise smiles wanly, and continues to dance to music that seems only audible to her.
    “Did you hear what he said Francoise?” Graham asks. “Or are you still pretending to be decadent?”
    “No-one is going to get killed,” Francoise says. “All of us are such good friends . All of us are so Intimate .” She says the word as if it is now a curse, and then she starts to dance towards the fountain, leaving the rest of us to desperately read each other's expressions.
    “I hope she is going to warn Barbara,” James says. “I am not looking forward to at least one of us being reduced to rubble by that man.”
    Graham puts his hand on my shoulder. “If he comes, we keep him at arm's length. He is just one man, and his opinions are just that. We all seem to think that because he's quite successful his views are somehow gospel. They're not. He's an unhappy fellow, who uses other people as punch bags on a regular basis. But this is a party, and we won't let him, or her,” he says, looking over at Francoise, “ruin it.”
    “Why does Barbara hate your father so much?” Elise asks me.
    “Soon after they fell out, on that ridiculous childhood holiday,” Graham says, “Sean appeared on a primetime television chat show. The show featured another actor who had just starred in a film with Barbara, her last major film as it happened. Barbara's name was mentioned by the host and Sean just took her… to pieces. He was truculent even at the start of the interview, when he talked about how difficult it must be for her to act behind a plastic mask. At first the audience were tittering along. But when he called her a ‘wilting plastic flower' the audience stopped laughing. ‘But you and Barbara go back a long way,' the host said. ‘Surely you are just teasing her.' ‘No I'm not,' Sean replied. ‘Every day the film industry corrodes a little more because of talentless, vapid people like her who fill our screens with artless performances.' That's right, isn't it?” he says, looking over at me. I nod.
    “‘At the very least,' he continues, his gruff voice mimicking my father's, ‘there should be a union to stop women like her ever appearing on celluloid. At the most I would propose specimens like her are lined up against a wall and shot, to prevent them ever touting their withered wares on the world stage again.'”
    Elise exhales in shock. “I am surprised you don't know the story,” James says. “You must watch television rather sparingly.”
    “It was a few years ago,” I offer. “Few people even know who Barbara was.”
    “Still, it was a vicious and cruel thing to say, and I think it would be best if Barbara was not informed he might be coming tonight.”
    As if on cue, a wail goes up from the fountain, and Barbara throws her cocktail glass towards Francoise.
    “Has Francoise lost all semblance of tact in the last few minutes?” Graham asks. Through the half-light I see Barbara throwing her arms up, clasping them to her face and then flying into Franz's arms for comfort; a ridiculously emotive gesture.
    Francoise steps back from them, takes a sip of wine, and then makes her way over to us.
    “Bearing her response in mind, do you think it might be a good idea to call Sean and ask him to postpone his visit?” James asks her.
    “Barbara's had too much to drink, that's all,” Francoise says, picking at her dress.
    “Francoise,