‘Was that a text from Guy? How’re they doing?’
She hadn’t spoken to Guy and felt decidedly awkward at the mention of him. ‘No, it was my mum, saying she has the spare room all set up if we want to stay with them after Dad’s birthday lunch tomorrow.’
‘It’ll be fun.’ He sipped his wine.
‘Yep.’ She handed him the bowl.
‘Smells delicious!’ Archie grabbed his fork, sleeves rolled up, ready for his supper.
‘There’s plenty more.’ She smiled with a pride she had no right to. This was, after all, not her handiwork. ‘Have some salad too.’ She pushed the wooden bowl full of fresh green leaves towards him. Trying not to be bossy but wanting him to eat something balanced.
‘Is there any garlic bread?’ Evie asked, as she took a seat and looked hopefully towards the oven.
‘Garlic bread? No! This is filling enough. Have you been listening to your dad, who likes to double down on carbs?’
Evie looked at Archie, who winked at her. It felt exclusionary, and Ashleigh’s cheeks flamed accordingly.
‘Marguerite always gives me garlic bread with lasagne.’
‘Well, Marguerite isn’t here.’ She placed the bowl in front of her daughter and served herself a small portion, knowing she would have to hit the pavement early in the morning to work it off.
Evie picked up her fork and sniffed it, before taking a minute bite of pasta. Ashleigh found it a little infuriating. This was not the action of someone who was happy to be eating as a family. It wasn’t what she had envisaged.
‘So is there any news on Ben Baby?’ Archie asked with gusto, designed, she knew, to create a tributary, diverting them from the slightly tense flow that they were in danger of getting carried away on.
‘Is that how we’re going to differentiate, Ben Baby and Ben Dog?’ She pulled a face at the absurdity of it.
‘I think so. It will be easier when we’re with them physically and we can point and say,this little chap!’
She shook her head, not knowing how it would be, to see their friends, to make small talk, still trying to come to terms with the sneakiness of Guy and Ada’s behaviour, and the disloyalty that had whacked her around the chops so hard she could almost feel the sting.
Adding to her discomfort was the fact it was now a secret she kept from Archie, feeling humiliated, embarrassed that Guy had done this, had kept her in the dark. Proof that their relationship had broken down.
She was also mindful that the men had been friends since their days at Clifton, and the thought of her putting a splinter in that was almost too much to contemplate. She knew the pain of realising an old, reliable friend was slipping out of reach ... picturing Remy exchanging a wide-eyed look of irritation with Tony when Ashleigh had told them with much excitement about the boy she had met at uni whose name was Archie. It had hurt. It hurt still.
It was as unfathomable as it was upsetting, how quickly things had turned a little sour with Guy, and how she felt unable to even call the man who had been her great friend for the longest time. One of her pillars.
The sheaf of paperwork sat in her bag, unread, humming like a toxic thing that drew her thoughts in the early hours and at any other gap in her busy day.
Did he want her out completely? Was this what it was about? A stepping stone to replacing her with Ada? Ada, who had never worked in their industry. Ada, who had not worked much full stop.Remy had told her not to overthink it. If only it were that simple.
‘Ash!’ Archie shouted as he banged the flat of his palm on the counter. It was jarring.
‘What?’ She looked up.
‘Evie was telling you about her project. You were miles away!’
‘Evie!’ She wiped her fingers over her face. ‘I’m sorry my love. Daddy’s right, I was miles away! Please tell me about your project. Is it still the Romans?’
She smiled and took a mouthful of lasagne. Archie was right, it was delicious, but when your stomach had shrunk with anxiety and sat somewhere beneath your throat, and your thoughts whirred and you felt sadness at a visceral level, making your bones feel brittle, as your friend’s betrayal was lodged like a stick in your heart, it was hard to enjoy anything. Even Marguerite’s fabulous lasagne turned to ash on her tongue and threatened to choke her.
‘Romans was last term. We’re doing World War Two now.’ Her daughter spoke with reservation, clearly disappointed her mum did not know this.
‘World War Two! Wowsers! Well, you should speak to Grandad Dennis. His daddy, my grandad, fought in that war. His name was Charlie, and he was a porter in a field hospital in France, and he got a medal. I think he had great adventures, even though it was terrible.’
‘Yes,’ Archie boomed, ‘andmygrandfather was in the cabinet office. He worked for Winston Churchill himself and was knightedto the Most Nobel Order of the Garter for his services to King and country.’ Her husband sat tall in his seat.
Ashleigh held her fork and stared at him, quite unable to voice how dismissed she felt, how he had nullified her grandad’s efforts. She didn’t want to bicker, not tonight, when she had been so looking forward to this supper.
