‘Ooh they have a Christmas special. Dark chocolate with orange zest, lots of cream and nutmeg. What d’you think?’ Ruth asks.
Jo nods, ‘Well itisnearly Christmas.’
A shimmer of panic ripples through Malcolm. There are only twelve days to go! Then he reminds himself he has very little planned for Christmas – nothing that can’t be sorted by a bigger-than-usual supermarket shop. He can’t quite decide if he feels relieved or disappointed by this thought.
Rev. Ruth bustles away, calling over her shoulder, ‘Fancy a hot chocolate, Malcolm?’
Malcolm is still not comfortable calling out over an open café, so he just shakes his head and points at his coffee cup. Even though he thinks dark chocolate and orange might be rather nice.
Jo manoeuvres herself onto the seat opposite him, giving his hand a warm squeeze. ‘Lovely to see you, Malcolm.’
Even after all this time, Malcolm is surprised to find that she really sounds like she means it. Jo and Ruth normally meet every month for an open-water swim, but the cold weather and Ruth’s concerns for Jo’s swelling bump had led her to suggest meeting at this indoor pool, asking Malcolm if he would like to join them afterwards – ‘like old times.’
Relaxing with a big sigh, Jo looks about her, ‘They’ve done this place up since I was here last, and they seem to be doing more food.’
‘I believe the centre has given the contract to an RAF veteran who is very keen to source his ingredients from local suppliers.’
It really was amazing what you overheard in a bookshop. The bookshop where Malcolm now works part-time.
‘But enough of that,’ Malcolm continues. ‘Howareyou, Joanne?’ He leans forward, concentrating his gaze on his friend.
‘I’m really good, Malcolm. I’m finding I’m getting more tired with this pregnancy than with Eliot. And the baby moves around a lot more …’ She smiles, and Malcolm thinks how well she looks. ‘Especially when I’m swimming. Maybe she will be a real water baby. That would be nice.’ She laughs, ‘Eliot wants me to have a water birth. Some idiot at nursery told him about it. I don’t think he has any idea of the mechanics of it, just thinks a paddling pool inside would be great for his boats and dinosaurs.’
‘How is he?’
‘Good. He’s just gone up into pre-school with the other three-year-olds. You might see him later; Eric is coming to pick me up in a bit.’
‘Now that would be nice,’ Malcolm remarks, bowing his head slightly.
Ruth appears, carrying a tray with three mugs piled high with cream sprinkled with nutmeg, and a slice of glazed orange poking up through the dairy mountain. She shuffles in beside Malcolm, ‘Thought you might change your mind,’ she says, handing around the mugs and giving him a wink.
Oh, how well this woman knows him.
‘Ah, shortbread. Perfect,’ she exclaims, settling down.
Both women shrug off their coats and Ruth unwraps the towel from her head, giving her hair a final rub.
‘Now this is nice,’ Ruth and Malcolm declare in unison.
‘You two are like an old married couple,’ Jo laughs, spooning a dollop of chocolatey cream into her mouth.
‘Not much chance of that,’ Ruth nudges Malcolm’s shoulder. ‘Somehow I don’t think I’m Malcolm’s type.’
‘Nor me yours, dear lady,’ Malcolm returns politely.
‘Sweet Jeeesus,’ Jo murmurs softly, and the laughter ripples around the table.
‘Has Ruth still got you helping out at the church?’ Jo asks.
‘She most certainly has,’ Malcolm replies, with some asperity. ‘Tomorrow afternoon it is the school nativity practice, I believe.’
‘You could always say “no” to her,’ Jo tells him.
‘Have you ever tried that, Joanne?’ Malcolm enquires incredulously, and Jo grins her acknowledgment of a point made.
Ruth turns to Jo and explains, ‘The reception teacher, Miss Poole, cut her hand on a mandolin and can’t play the piano for the nativity run-through.’
Malcolm vaguely knows the primary school teacher, a woman in her thirties with a taste for colourful jumpers and bright red lipstick. He approves of Miss Poole but, now he thinks about it, he can’t imagine her strumming the mandolin. He mentions this to Ruth, who snorts with laughter.
