“Oh, you should,” Mia enthused. “As a vet, I’m not supposed to have favorites when it comes to animals, but dogs really are in a different league—and you go off on hikes a lot, don’t you? A dog would be great company.”
“Who says I want company?” Victoria said mildly. “Hiking is when I do my thinking—it’s my time-out from reality.”
Skye took three red peppers from the fridge and cast around for a chopping board.
“I’m terrible at spending time by myself,” Mia went on. “Dusty’s always been a bit of a loner, and Louisa goes along with what everyone else wants, but I prefer company. Human or animal, it doesn’t much matter. Shall I go and see if Theo and George want to join us?”
“Good idea,” Joy said, shooing her from the room before turning back to the others. “She reminds me of a bee, that one. Always buzzing from place to place, person to person.”
Victoria mopped her eyes.
“Jeez,” she said, “these onions are savage.”
“I can do them,” Skye offered. “You take over the peppers.”
They switched places, Victoria almost sending a bowl of lemons flying as she squeezed past the table.
“I’m starting to think Andreas might have a point about doing an extension,” Joy mused as she reached around them to open a drawer. “If I let the builders in, though, I’ll never get any bloody peace and quiet.”
Skye swept the chopped onion on top of the pepper, then tore open a slab of feta. The cheese was slick with moisture, its aroma ripe and salty.
“Do you have any oregano for these tomatoes?” Victoria asked.Joy went outside, returning with a fresh sprig just as Mia burst back into the kitchen, followed by Adam and Andreas. Both were weighed down with an assortment of meats, beers, and bags of chips.
“If you can allow me a space,” Andreas said, extracting a pot of yogurt from one of the bags, “then I will prepare my special tzatziki.”
Joy, who’d just pried open a bottle of Mythos on the edge of the sink, moved aside only to trip over a still-slumbering Bruno.
“Bloody hell,” she cried as beer sprayed up the wall.
Skye caught Andreas’s eye.
“No Theo?” Victoria said as Mia began to spear chunks of raw chicken breast onto a skewer.
“Sadly not,” she said. “He can’t leave George on his own but sent his apologies.”
“Once the smell from the grill drifts over the wall, I bet they’ll change their minds,” Adam said. He’d swapped his shirt and tie for a plain tee and seemed far more relaxed. Victoria, by contrast, had grown quieter, more reserved. Her earlier remark about not wanting company had stuck with Skye, though the reasons behind it remained unclear. It didn’t seem to be about Adam, whose arms were wrapped around his wife, his voice low in her ear, but something else lingered beneath the surface. Skye wondered if the comment had been a subtle invitation to talk. Had her own guardedness caused her to miss an opening? She attempted to catch the other woman’s eye, but Victoria’s attention was solely on her husband.
“Finally,” Mia chorused as Dusty and Louisa appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Took you long enough.”
“Cinderella here made me wait while she did her makeup,” Dusty said, accepting a beer from Adam. Louisa cringed with mortification.
“I told you to go ahead without me,” she protested.
“Well, you look lovely,” Joy said. “Doesn’t she, Andreas?”
“Eh?” He paused in the process of grating cucumber and turned around. “Nai. Very nice. All you ladies are very beautiful.”
“Kiss ass,” Joy said with a smirk before heading into the garden.
Skye went after her, clutching the bowl of Greek salad. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been at a gathering like this—three years ago, maybe four? Her dad had loved hosting, but every party he’d thrown had been of the laid-back kind: friends turning up with a bottle, pizzas ordered and shared, lanterns lit in the garden, and laughter filling the air. Her mother had continued to invite those same acquaintances to the house after he’d died, but the setup was more formal. Dinner parties with labeled seating plans, an Ottolenghi recipe painstakingly prepared and matched with expensive wine. Talk at these types of gatherings was muted, dry, political—Skye would sit beside Martyn, say nothing at all while he sermonized about this subject and that, his hand on her thigh, the pressure just hard enough that she knew not to move, not to speak, not to do anything that might draw attention. Not once on all those occasions did her mother notice that anything was wrong.
“You all right, chook?” Joy asked.
Skye started.
“Fine,” she said. Her new most-used word. “I’m fine.”
Joy transferred the chicken skewers from a tray onto the grill.
