Enya smiled at the woman, who, judging by the gleam in her eye and the excited change in her demeanour, might think this was the answer to many of life’s curve balls.
‘That’s a very good idea.’ Enya could only agree.
Trying not to look at her grandmother’s broken saucer, fearful it could invoke further tears, another small part of her history destroyed, she went to the dresser where the wine glasses lived and hoped she might find five that matched. She closed her eyes briefly as she reached into its confines, catching her breath while she tried to reconcile the fact that Dominic, the Handsome Car Klutz, was in her house and that he was to be Aiden’s father-in-law! It was surreal and awful all at once. She felt grubby, dishonest, and disloyal. He was Trish’s husband, and she was Jonathan’s wife, and she had chatted to him on the phone from her bed in a flirty manner. She cringed and wished she could fast-forward to the time they all left her less-than-impressive cottage.
‘Everyone, please do go and sit in the lounge, get comfy! I’ll bring the wine in.’ She painted on a broad smile, wanting them gone from the room, needing a minute.
‘Do you have any glue?’ Dominic asked.
‘Glue?’ She stared, trying to see him only as Iris’s dad or, more specifically, as Trish’s husband.
‘For the saucer.’ He took the two halves into his hands and held them up for scrutiny. ‘It looks like a clean break. I’m rubbish with technology but good with my hands,’ he reminded her. ‘So, if you have glue, I can fix this. No one will ever know.’
I’ll know . . .
‘That’s very kind, thank you.’ She thought it a good idea to have him preoccupied with the task, out of the way, even if it were for mere minutes. ‘I think there’s some in the shed. Let me grab the key.’
‘Shall I take these through?’ Trish picked up the tray of blondies.
‘Oh, yes, please do.’
‘They look wonderful, are they home-made?’ It sounded like a challenge. Enya could of course answer with confidence.
‘Yes, yes, they are.’
‘Well, look at you, Mrs Bake Off! Could you give me the recipe?’ Trish inhaled their glorious scent.
Again, Enya answered with the truth. ‘I could.’
‘I never make anything if it doesn’t come wrapped in plastic, if it hasn’t called to me from a shelf in Waitrose then we aren’t eating it!’ Trish’s pride at the fact was more than a little surprising. ‘I don’t really cook,’ she continued. ‘I have a white kitchen and the thought of getting it messy or spilling something that might stain...’ She pulled a face. ‘I went through a phase of only serving pale food to ensure no nasty marks on my counter or linen. Do you remember that, Dom?’ Trish fired a look at her husband, her tone a little challenging. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.
Dom...It was a witnessed intimacy that made Enya’s gut fold with guilt; how deftly he had woven threads of trust and bound her with them. His manner, his smile, his easy nature, his interest. It had been slick and in that moment it was repulsive to her. She felt foolish. She was a fool.
‘I do.’ He bit his lip.
Trish laughed. ‘We existed on a diet of rice, pasta, cauliflower, potatoes, cheese, milk, vanilla ice cream...’
Enya briefly caught Dominic’s eye and looked away.
The woman wasn’t nearly done.
‘Bananas, parsnips, onions, noodles, chips, chicken, bread, bread rolls, cream, coconut milk, coconut flesh, erm...’
‘We get the idea.’ Trish’s husband sounded slightly exasperated as he interrupted her flow.
‘Oh, pardon me for breathing!’ Trish narrowed her eyes at him.
Enya looked away. Not only did it feel intrusive to witness the exchange, but it was also quite alien to her. She and Jonathan had never spoken to each other like that. They were friends who loved each other and with that came a mutual and unquestionable respect. The Sutherlands’ interaction was ugly and spoke of so much more than this brief irritation.
It was as Trish made her way towards the lounge that she stopped and turned, holding the tray of blondies higher.
‘Just one thing, do they have nuts in? I’m allergic to some nuts.’
‘Oh.’Busted.‘I can’t remember.’ She cringed.
‘You can’t remember if you put nuts into these home-made blondies?’ Trish now narrowed her eyes inherdirection.
‘I can’t, but I’d say it’s not worth the risk. Let me go and find that glue!’
