‘Yeah. It was weird.’
They scooted to one side to avoid a cyclist.
‘Perhaps she’s lonely? She doesn’t seem to have any friends, does she?’
Kate shrugged.
‘She’s got us.’
‘True.’
They took the Victoria Line tube to Green Park, where they walked the short distance to The Wolseley. They were the first to get there, and the maître d’ showed them to their table in the central horseshoe where they sat next to each other on the banquette to people-watch. He offered them a newspaper to read and they said no. He left, returning with a jug of water and Jake asked him for a Bloody Mary.
‘Better make that two,’ Kate said. ‘Extra spicy.’
Increasingly, these days, she found herself craving the carefully timed narcotic release of alcohol. She needed it to relax, she told herself, and after all those months of not drinking through fertility treatment, she felt she was owed it.
She examined the table. The menus were thick to the touch and the salt and pepper shakers were silver. There was a curtain around the door to prevent draughts from reaching the clientele, which Kate thought was always the mark of true class.
Jake’s parents arrived fifteen minutes late, with Annabelle rushing towards the table looking harried. She was a billowing torrent of cerulean silk and apologies about the trains. Chris appeared a few seconds later, having checked their coats in, sporting a tweed jacket and a vague smile.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Annabelle said, as Jake stood to let her slide into the banquette beside Kate. ‘The train was delayed by a trespasser on the line. It was awful! Every seat taken. People standing. Even in first.’ She paused. ‘I did text.’
‘Oh, sorry Mum, I wasn’t checking my phone. Anyway, don’t worry, you’re here now. We’ve been having a lovely time.’
‘I can see that,’ she said, casting a glance at the empty Bloody Mary glasses.
‘I’ll have one of those,’ Chris said, summoning a waiter over. ‘Anyone else?’
Kate nodded gratefully.
‘I’ll have a glass of champagne, darling,’ Annabelle said, ‘given that itismy birthday celebration.’
‘Of course! We must order a bottle,’ Jake told the waiter.
Annabelle squeezed his arm. ‘Thank you, sweetheart. Treating your mother. Such a good boy.’
Kate tried not to roll her eyes.
‘And how are you, Kate?’ Annabelle turned to her. ‘Sorry, I’ve barely said hello what with all the rush!’ She gave a sprinkling little laugh. She was wearing dangling sapphires from each earlobe and a discreet diamond on a chain around her neck. She seemed tense, and every time her head moved, the earrings wobbled with her.
‘I’m good, thank you. It’s nice to—’
‘Darling, will you pass me my pashmina?’ Annabelle gestured at Chris, who took out a pale blue scarf from a tote bag embossed with the National Trust insignia. She draped it around her shoulders, shivering and huddling as she did so.
‘I’m freezing, aren’t you?’ She clutched Kate’s hand. ‘Feel how cold I am!’
‘Oh dear,’ Kate replied. ‘I’m sure you’ll warm up soon. Do you want me to get your coat?’
‘No, no, no, it’ll take far too long.’ Annabelle removed her hand, annoyed. ‘Let’s order, shall we? I’m starving; aren’t you, Jakey?’
When the food arrived, Annabelle added salt to her chicken salad, shaking it over the leaves for several seconds, claiming that the dish was‘a touch on the bland side’. She ate half the bowl, then left the remainder untouched. The conversation revolved around Annabelle’s concern for Toad, who had recently been involved in some dispute with a student at the university she taught at in Dublin. The student in question had complained that Toad had made a transphobic comment in a lecture and now Toad was suspended from her job while the university authorities investigated.
‘I mean, people are sosensitivethese days. You can’t say anything for fear of being lynched.’
Kate groaned, pressing a napkin to her mouth to disguise it as a cough.
‘With respect, Annabelle, that’s not the best metaphor.’
