‘Not at all,’ said Lorna hastily. ‘In fact, mind if I join you?’
They settled themselves at a table, Cooper taking up residence underneath, resting his head on his paws and falling asleep.
‘The food here’s amazing,’ said Lorna. ‘Ah, there’s the chef!’
Nancy looked up. A woman in chef whites, her blonde hair up in a bun, had just come out of the door that led to the kitchen.
‘Imogen!’ called out Lorna, waving.
Nancy could swear Imogen stiffened when she saw them, but she had no choice but to come over.
‘Nancy dragged me in here for a coffee,’ said Lorna.
It hadn’t been like that at all, but Nancy didn’t know how to correct her, and anyway, it shouldn’t matter, should it?
‘I needed a break from emptying boxes,’ she said. ‘You never realize how much stuff you can accumulate. And I only moved from a tiny two-bedroomed flat.’
‘Well, enjoy,’ said Imogen stiffly. ‘I’d better get back into the kitchen.’
‘She’s a fantastic chef,’ said Lorna, as Imogen turned away. ‘With friends in high places!’
When Nancy didn’t ask who, Lorna added in lowered tones: ‘Nigel Slater. They’ve even worked together.’
Nancy smiled politely.
‘So...’ said Lorna, once they’d placed their order with the waiter, ‘where in London have you moved from?’
Nancy didn’t remember telling Lorna that she’d come from London and wondered how she knew.
‘Lewisham.’
‘Oh right.’
‘You know it?’
‘No.’ Lorna paused. ‘Does it have posh parts?’
Nancy let out a bark of laughter. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I thought the whole of London was posh...or at least cost a fortune to live in. Don’t sheds go for a million quid or something?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘But property’s worth a lot more than here, right? I mean, your old flat, for example...it would be more expensive to buy down there than up here.’
Lorna looked at Nancy quizzically and Nancy suddenly realized that she was trying to work out how someone who came from non-posh London could afford a million-pound house on the edge of a reservoir.
‘My husband and I rented,’ said Nancy. ‘So I wouldn’t know.’
Lorna was floored and Nancy was saved from further interrogation by the arrival of the coffees.
‘Do you live in the village?’ asked Nancy.
‘In one of the lanes opposite the school,’ said Lorna. ‘There’s myself, my husband Simon, and Phoenix you met this morning. My youngest is Pepper. She’s six and currently mad about mermaids.’
‘Cute,’ said Nancy. ‘Lara went through a mermaid phase too. I had to get her a costume, which she insisted on wearing in the bath.’
‘Aww,’ said Lorna. ‘Pepper would love that. Do you work?’
