‘I’m glad to hear that.’ He smiled then and Pearl noticed how it lit up his face briefly, and his demeanour relaxed. He was a good-looking man, she decided, and could be anything from late-forties to mid-fifties. She has never been any good at guessing ages. On her first date with Elias she’d been momentarily taken aback to see the startlingly youthful man waiting for her at the bar. But it turned out that he was five years older than she was. Combined with good genes, his lifestyle had seemingly taken little toll on his looks. And whereas Elias was slick and groomed and wore labels that Pearl had never even heard of, Niall was stubbly and wearing the kind of top you only find in those outdoorsy shops that she never frequents. She wondered briefly if he was in the habit of taking solo trips. He certainly seemed to be pretty self-contained and wasn’t up for any more pleasantries in the kitchen. Perhaps the welcoming committee of three was a little too much. So Pearl showed him to his room and he has remained there ever since.
‘So what are we going to do?’ she asks now. The three friends have gathered around the kitchen table. An emergency summit meeting is happening to decide what to do for dinner tonight as, despite a second message from Pearl, Michael still hasn’t replied.
‘Wouldyoube checking your phone if you’d just got together with someone you’re crazy about?’ Shelley asks.
‘I still think we should try him again,’ Lena says firmly. ‘It can’t do any harm and he’d rather know, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t want us blundering through the weekend, destroying his reputation?—’
‘We’re not going to destroy his reputation,’ Shelley insists. ‘We’re all competent women. We can handle this.’She gets up to fetch matches and lights one of the creamy candles set in the centre of the holly garland on the table. All three watch it flicker, as if awaiting divine inspiration.
‘Could we do something with chickpeas?’ Pearl grimaces. ‘Or divide that little quiche between seven? Shell, you’re the queen of meal-stretching?—’
‘We could add lots of rice and pasta,’ she offers. ‘And aren’t there potatoes?’
‘Or we could do a giant vegetable curry?’ Lena suggests, aware that she would have to delegate this task. When Tommy first moved in, she tried, gamely, to wow him with stir fries liberally doused in soy sauce. Ridiculously, she was ashamed of the fact that, since her divorce, she had become reliant on ready meals and things on toast. But Tommy hadn’t moved in to enjoy a meal service, and pretty soon he assumed the role of cheerful home cook.
‘There’s oven chips,’ Pearl remembers, ‘and tonnes of breakfast stuff. We could do a bit of everything. A huge, terrible, mismatched buffet…’ An image flashes in her mind of one of Brandon’s many birthday parties, when Dean was still with them. Together they would lay on a fabulous feast virtually shimmering with artificial colourings. She fears that this version would be less fun. ‘Bacon and chips and scrambled eggs,’ she suggests. ‘Spaghetti and butter as if they’re all six years old. And could we concoct a dessert from frozen berries, choc ices and cornflakes?’
Lena pulls a nauseous face and Pearl bows her head, sensing the weight of responsibility pressing down on her now. It was her idea to come here. A mad idea conceived on a boozy Christmas night out – because she was feeling desolate. Not simply because Elias had tried to entice her to a garden shedin Weston-super-Mare, but because, after more than a decade alone, she had finally let down her defences and allowed a man into her life. And somehow that crazy idea to run away with her best friends has spiralled into this.
Why had she agreed that it was a great idea for Michael to go to London? She was swept along with it, a yes person to her very core. Like the way she’d agreed that of course Abi could move into their tiny flat. No, Pearl didn’t mind that their houseguest needed the heating on full-bast all day long. It wasfine, living in a permanent menopausal sweat! And no problem whatsoever to stop off on her way home from an all-day make-up job to pick up Abi’s favourite yuzu-flavoured kombuchas that cost a zillion quid a can. As if this perfectly able twenty-one-year-old was incapable of self-propelled forward motion. What evenwasyuzu? ‘A citrus fruit,’ Abi had replied, as if it was obvious. Pearl has been messaging Brandon, to just keep in touch, as is her way. And now, despite his girlfriend’s overbearing presence, she is overcome by an urge to spirit herself home.
‘I have a better idea,’ Lena says suddenly.
Pearl and Shelley stare at her. ‘What?’ Pearl asks.
‘How about the pub?’
Shelley frowns. ‘What pub?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lena says impatiently. ‘Anypub! There’s got to be one around here, hasn’t there?’
‘I’ve no idea!’ Pearl exclaims.
‘There must be,’ Lena insists. ‘Why don’t we check that folder? The one with all the information?’
‘But they’re expecting home cooking,’ Pearl cuts in. ‘Not to be taken out to the pub…’
‘No,’ Lena says emphatically. ‘I mean, we could get them to do mealsto go.Portions of whatever they have on their menu?—’
‘Who’s “they”?’ Pearl splutters.
‘The pub! Thepub people.Wecould drive over and collect it and smuggle it in, and stick it in whichever oven we’re meant to use…’
‘The warming oven?’ Shelley brightens. ‘My God, we could do that. You’re a genius, Leen.’
Pearl grimaces. She isn’t a fan of subterfuge. ‘They’re bound to guess we didn’t make it. Remember that time you heated up an M&S lamb curry, Lena? And you presented it to Tommy as your own work? He teased you for weeks over that?—’
‘Yes, but that was different,’ Lena insists. ‘That came out of a box and it had that boxed feeling…’
‘And this won’t?’ Pearl crooks a brow.
‘No, because it’ll have been made in a little pub kitchen by a friendly lady in an apron.’ Lena beams. ‘Pub kitchen, this kitchen. What’s the difference?’
Pearl breathes out slowly. ‘But we don’t know what they’ve ordered, do we? All that stuff aboutmoussandcrumon the board.’ She bites her lip, checking her phone. Still no message from Michael. ‘Shall we just see what the pub does, and hope for the best?—’
‘Ah, sorry!’ Niall has appeared in the kitchen doorway and looks around apologetically. ‘Don’t want to interrupt, but?—’
‘No, come in,’ Lena says quickly. ‘Come and sit down. We’re just doing some, uh…’
