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drapes of the tablecloth.
    ‘Don’t mind me!’ chirped a wavy-haired brunette with a Sandra-Bullock smile.
    Initially I was too taken aback to speak.
    ‘I didn’t mean to be eavesdropping but I sneaked under here for a covert piece of wedding cake and then you two came over and I didn’t like to crawl out mid-argument so… ’
    ‘I’m sorry you had to hear all that nonsense.’ I cringed.
    ‘I’m sorry your toe got assaulted. That’s a pretty messy situation.’
    And she would know – being right at eye level with it.
    ‘Could you pass me a glass of water?’
    I reached over to the tabletop and passed one to her.
    ‘And a napkin.’
    ‘There’s another slice of cake here, hasn’t been touched—’
    ‘No, no, I’m fine.’
    She then dipped the napkin in the water and started to dab away the excess blood. I flinched a couple of times so she held an ice cube in place to numb it. Then she tore at the napkin with her teeth.
    ‘Careful!’ I exclaimed.
    ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got fangs like a Rottweiler.’
    She took the narrower strip and bound my toe and then asked me to hand her one of the cocktail sticks to secure it.
    ‘Looks like one of those pigs-in-a-blanket hors d’oeuvres!’ I giggled.
    At which point she emerged fully from the table and rather surprised me with a perfectly normal figure. I suppose I thought from the secret cake-eating she might be rather voluptuous, but not at all.
    ‘If you don’t mind me asking – do you have some kind of eating disorder?’
    ‘Yes I do,’ she nodded gravely. ‘His name is Eric.’
    ‘Eric?’
    ‘My boyfriend. Soon to be ex. But it’s not always as easy to get out of a relationship as it is to get into them, is it? I keep hoping he’ll give me an ultimatum – “It’s me or the cake!” and then I’d choose the cake, obviously, and lead a very happy cream-frosted life.’
    I gave a little chuckle.
    And then she sighed and reached for what was formerly my wine glass. ‘They’re always so nice in the beginning, aren’t they? Back when they loved you just the way you are.’
    ‘Or the way they think you are.’
    She gave me a sideways glance. ‘Do you know what helps me get through Eric’s rants?’
    ‘What?’ I was keen to know.
    ‘Buddha.’
    I felt a smidgeon of concern as she twisted her mint chiffon frock around to face me., praying - somewhat ironically I realise now - please don’t let her be a religious nut!
    ‘So this guy comes up to Buddha and he’s full of vitriol,’ she began, ‘nothing nice to say, going on and on at Buddha, complaining about everything he does wrong, everything that irritates him, really letting him have it. And so Buddha, who is completely unfazed, by the way, says, “Let me ask you a question – if you bought a gift and gave it to someone and they didn’t accept it, who would the gift belong to?”
    ‘“Well, to me I suppose,” he replied. “Since I paid for it.”
    ‘And so Buddha said, “I don’t accept the insults you bring to me. I am returning them to you. The gift now belongs to you. Every bit of it.”’
    My jaw dropped. ‘I love it! That’s brilliant!’
    ‘Isn’t it?’
    ‘Brilliant!’ I raved.
    ‘What’s brilliant?’ I looked up to find Andrew glaring impatiently.
    ‘Just this funny story that … ’ I stop. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.’
    ‘Laurie,’ she said, reaching for my hand.
    ‘Krista,’ I said, shaking hers. ‘This is Andrew.’
    ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said, getting to her feet.
    ‘Yowwwww!’ Andrew squealed like a pig, jumping back from her.
    ‘Oh I’m sorry! Did I tread on your foot?’ She hoiked up her hem to reveal the deadliest of spikes. ‘Good thing you’re wearing proper shoes or that would’ve really hurt!’
    And with a covert wink at me, she left.
    I still have what was left of that napkin – first I offered it to Andrew to dab away his tears and then, on the way home in the car, I used it to hide my immovable