‘Oh, you’ve built a house?’ Shelley interjects. Distraction technique again.
‘Can we have a fondue tomorrow?’ Theo pipes up. ‘Like at Grandma’s?’
Roger chuckles and ruffles his blond head. ‘Grandma always does a fondue.’
‘How lovely,’ Shelley enthuses. ‘But I’m not sure we have the equipment for?—’
‘Ourhouse, Roger,’ Frida says snappily. ‘She asked about our house.’
‘Ah, yes.’ He looks flustered and turns back to Pearl. ‘We’ve just built this place in Northumberland, near the coast. Really, it’s been our life’s dream?—’
‘I designed it,’ Frida announces, already flushed from her wine.
‘Oh, are you an architect?’ Lena asks.
‘No, I’m a coach. An executive coach. But I knew what I wanted and it’s such a joy, being able to create your perfect home…’
‘So, shall I look at the Aga after dinner?’ Roger cuts in.
‘Oh, no need for that.’ Shelley dismisses his offer of help with a wave of her hand. ‘We can do that. So, what do you do, Roger?’
In explaining that he owns many properties, he seems to temporarily forget about the malfunctioning appliance. ‘It’s so much harder these days,’ Frida announces, ‘to run a business like Roger’s.’
‘Oh, why’s that?’ Lena asks with genuine interest.
‘Well, tenants havesomany rights these days.’
‘Do they?’ Pearl asks pleasantly, thinking of Brandon and Abi who, she fears, will be unable to afford to rent a place of their own until at least 2035.
‘Oh yes,’ she asserts. ‘So many regulations now. You have to have the gas checked, the electrics. Smoke alarms and fire extinguishers in multi-occupancy houses…’
Pearl and Niall seem to exchange a silent message. Rather than risk your tenants being fried in their beds?
With dinner over, wine glasses are topped up, and then there’s coffee for Roger and chamomile tea for Frida, and in the absence of a proper pudding, Lena locates bars of quality chocolate and a bought ginger cake in the pantry.
‘It’s been a lovely evening,’ Niall announces finally, ‘but I think I’ll turn in early, if you don’t mind.’
Feeling the pace now after the day’s events, Pearl would very much love to turn in early too. Are B&B hosts allowed to do that? Or might the unsupervised Theo terrorise Stan? ‘No problem,’ she says. ‘What time would you like breakfast?’
‘Erm, how about everyone else?’ He looks around the table.
‘Eight-thirty?’ Frida suggests, and if anyone would prefer a different time, they daren’t say.
‘Great.’ Pearl smiles. ‘Eight-thirty it is. Sleep well, Niall.’ Then to the Sampsons: ‘Would you mind moving through to the lounge while we clear things here?’ Off they all drift, with a clearly tipsy Frida clutching at Roger’s arm.
‘Mmm, wasn’t that delicious?’ She chuckles. ‘Those funny pasta pies! Wonder what we’re getting tomorrow night?’
Alone now in the kitchen, the three friends load the dishwasher and perform a final thorough clean of the kitchen. ‘We did it,’ Lena breathes, looking happily at her friends. ‘Well done, girls.’
Pearl and Shelley beam at her, and they hug tightly. ‘Well done us!’ Lena murmurs.
‘I’m done in, though, aren’t you?’ Shelley adds. Then a whispered, ‘When d’you think they’ll all go to bed?’
Conscious of Frida chattering away now in the lounge, and Theo becoming whiney through tiredness, the women settle at the table. Does time operate differently up here in Scotland? Lena wonders. Before they booked the trip she’d panicked that Christmas was thundering towards her, with the spectre of Tommy’s parents on the horizon, primed to belittle her pigs in blankets and peer around her little ramshackle flat in distaste. But now, with the prospect of looking after Michael’s guests until Monday, it feels like an age away. With a pang of missing Tommy, she stands up.
‘You two go through to bed,’ she says. ‘I’ll stay up until the Sampsons turn in.’
Pearl frowns. It’s only eleven-fifteen but feels later. ‘We’re not leaving you to deal with everything.’
