“God, I hate my job so much,” wailed Plum into her third raspberry champagne cocktail. “When I grew up I never thought this is what it would come to.”

“What – the company car, the blackberry, the laptop, the bonus, pension, client lunches and salary?” Liberty said, flicking her dark mane back sceptically with a perfectly manicured hand. Everything about Liberty was perfectly manicured.
 
Plum bit back. “The grovelling, the arguing, the politics, the commute for on an hour on a smelly delayed tube, stuck under someone’s armpit doing their bit for the environment by not wearing deodorant. How the hell did I end up account managing financial products. I should be making my own organic olive oil in Provence or crushing grapes with my feet in my own vineyard…” she tailed off as Liberty slid off the sofa in hysterics. Plum’s blue burmese cat Pandora stretched languidly and walked off in disgust.

They were interrupted by the sing-song of the doorbell. Claris dashed in, blonde tresses in disarray, face flushed and trailing excuses.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Alexander held up at work again. Last min search for babysitter. Lily left with neighbours’ au pair who appears to have even more face metal than last time. I can’t imagine what she does to airport security. Sorry sorry sorry. I know this is our last Officially Single Plum Cocktail Evening. Sorry sorry sorry.” She continued without breathing, “Can I please have one of those, please please please.” She stared at their pink bubbles with a longing verging on lust.

Claris was right. This was the last official gathering of the coven. Now Plum and Nick were engaged and Nick was moving in with Plum next week. Monthly cocktail evenings would still go on but it wouldn’t be quite the same. And it was obvious that Plum had gone all out this evening.

“Pink, fizzy and alcoholic,” Claris said appreciatively. “Can’t go far wrong.” She took a large, and definitively unlady-like slug. “Lord, these are heaven. What have you put in them this time, Plum?”

Plum smiled smugly. “Taste good, don’t they?” she added knowingly. “Utterly lethal though. Laurent Perrier Rose mixed with my own home flavoured raspberry vodka, a dollop of cranberry and raspberry juice all poured over crushed mint-flavoured ice and topped with some squished fresh raspberries. Two large glasses are guaranteed to make you stagger in your stilettos!”

Liberty stretched her long legs out as languidly as Plum’s cat had earlier, wriggled her toes and leaned back into the huge squishy sofa.

“Good thing we’ve kicked our heels off then,” she giggled, looking down at her adoringly at her strappy  vertigo-inducing Jimmy Choos laying on the floor. 

Claris glanced down ruefully at her pink flip-flops, her toes somehow smudged orange with the remains of this afternoon’s face painting. Children and stiletto heels were not a practical mix. That said Claris and stiletto heels had never been a practical mix, long before Lily had ever been born.

“So where were you two?” asked Claris, “before I so rudely interrupted.”

“Darling you interrupted nothing” answered Liberty brusquely. “Plum was bewailing her life as a City Slave, poor thing. Complaining about golden handcuffs. Life can be so hard. She wants to give it all up and bond with olives…and I am not talking Martinis.”

“Golden Handcuffs? Sounds a bit kinky for Financial Services.” Said Claris

“Golden Handcuffs. The benefits they tie you in with, make you think you can’t live without – the salary, the health insurance, the pension…” explained Plum

“The Friday 5pm bottles of champagne…”interrupted Liberty.

“No seriously.” Plum continued “You get to our age and you get used to your nice flat in your nice area and your car and your cleaner. I never thought I’d grow up to be an account manager – hardly stuff dreams are made of… ‘Mummy, when I grow up I want to make rich people even richer…’ But what are the choices? You need to earn a salary or else a have a trust fund or find a rich hubbie,” she shot a meaningful look at Claris and Liberty.

Claris and Liberty avoided each other’s eyes. For and moment the carpet became a work of art.

Plum got up and bustled around the kitchen pulling out the canapés.

“And you end up trapped in this career that you hate, doing long hours as a corporate creature.” Plum’s rant continued. We don’t all get jobs swanning around restaurant openings and being glam like Liberty. And she doesn’t even need to work! I mean, what else can you do? What else could I do?”

She laid out the canapés for the evening on the low Balinese teak table. Tiny rolled smoked salmon stuffed crepes, topped with sour cream and bright green chives, gleaming against the Japanese square black serving plate. Skewers of seared scallops and Honduran tiger prawns with sweet chilli and corriander salsa. Stuffed baby santa tomatoes, oozing cream cheese spiked with lemon, pepper and mint. Olive oil and garlic rubbed bruscetta topped with still sizzling griddled hallumi and juicy slabs of beef tomatoes. Huge summer strawberries, double dipped in organic dark chocolate and rolled in milk chocolate flakes.

Liberty and Claris exchanged amused looks as they tucked into this evening’s eats. They had heard this lament over many, many an evening of cocktails and canapés.

Mid-bite into the lush smoked smoked salmon Claris widened her eyes in amazement.

“I have had a revelation! No more than that, an epiphany” she announced, as she licked the soured cream off her fingers. “It’s so blindingly obvious, I’m not sure I we haven’t thought of it before. Why don’t you do this?”

“Do what? Sitting around with my best friends drinking cocktails, eating and gossiping. We can’t all be yummy mummies you know.” Said Plum

“Don’t be facetious Plum.” Replied Claris in a sharp schoolteacher tone. “Anyway I am not a yummy mummy. I do not have gym membership, a personal trainer or clean white linen trousers.”

“Really,” said Liberty, genuinely disappointed.

“I hate to admit it Plum, but Claris has a point. You could do this,” agreed Liberty reluctantly.

Liberty hated agreeing with anything that wasn’t her idea in the first place.

“What on earth are you both rattling on about? I knew I should have added more cranberry juice to the fizz.” Retorted Plum.

“This.” Said Claris. “This posh nosh. I’d pay for someone to do this for me. Imagine the absolute heaven of never having to cook for one of Alexander’s business dinners again!”

“Again,” snorted Plum, “When have you ever done it?”

“Exactly,I don’t’ think I got away with the Chinese takeaway last time round” said Claris. “People would pay you to do this. They could even claim they had done it themselves. I would certainly pay you to do this. I’d be able to pretend to be a proper corporate wife. I could give my full attention to their tedious anecdotes and make them feel they were actually interesting.”

“And not just that” added Liberty. “We have great restaurants around here but you try ordering in any food for an office do. If you are not after sausage rolls and sarnies or takeaway pizza you are stuffed. You could do this. Exactly this. You are always cooking, just do it for other people who can’t! And you have a perfect company name. It is in the way you speak.”

Claris and Liberty burst out laughing. Plum looked perplexed.

“Listen to yourself,” explained Liberty, “Joanna Lumley crossed with Rupert Everett.”

Plum cringed at the accuracy of the description.

 “It could only be one option. ‘Plum in your mouth’.” Liberty sat back into the sofa satisfied with her contribution.

“Well that’s settled. You can do our ten-year anniversary party next month. Save me having to do anything.” said Claris decisively, in her best adult voice.

Plum sat there open mouthed and wide eyed. It occurred to her that this actually could work. She might be able to pull this off!

“Well, well, well, who would have thought it darling, from City Slave to Kitchen Queen just one evening. Time to celebrate methinks. Another drink is called for.” Liberty proffered her glass for a refill. Plum obliged.

Pandora the cat gazed up at Plum and for a moment Plum could has sworn she saw her smile.

Raspberry Fizz Recipe

Baby Smoked Salmon Crepes