Stevie peered at Kim as she sat down at the table.
‘Kim, you were a million bloody miles away.’
Without even thinking, Kim asked: ‘How do I put off two dodgy buyers who want to buy the most beautiful flat in Sidmouth? I’ve tried assigning the slowest person in the office, and all that happens is that I get emails saying the sale is getting closer.’
‘You should put me onto it.’
‘That’s not such a bad idea.’ Kim put her phone back in her handbag, then had second thoughts. ‘Might keep this visible. Hoping Edward will text us his ETA.’
‘Why are they dodgy?’ Stevie asked.
‘Lots of cash, second home, pretending to be lovers when clearly they aren’t. Plump guy, ravishing Indian lady, from Kerala if I remember rightly. Oh, and Edward heard them talking and it was weird.’
‘Why? What did they say?’
Kim racked her brains. ‘Damn. If only I could remember. He was underneath my car, looking for a spare tyre that wasn’t there.’
‘Innuendo much.’
‘Stop it. It was the day we all met at Nine Chairs. Something about the parachutes. No – parachute singular. “Is the parachute through?” Something like that. Edward will remember.’
Stevie held her phone to her mouth. ‘Ask ChatGPT what “parachute” is slang for.’
The phone responded a second later. ‘Please explain the context of this question so I can answer you.’
‘Useless twit. Okay. Ask ChatGPT what illegal thing parachute is slang for in Kerala.’
The phone thought about it for a moment, evidently not in the least offended by Stevie’s bad language. The robotic voice returned. ‘In Kerala, India, crystal meth is described as “parachute” because the drug is commonly crushed and wrapped into small paper bulbs which look like parachutes.’
Kim sat in silence for a minute. She shook her head occasionally, and once murmured, ‘Shit.’
‘I feel like I brought you bad news.’
‘Your phone did, yes.’
‘You don’t use ChatGPT?’
‘I should.’
‘I’m sorry it gave you that info, don’t want it to wreck the night. It does tend to blurt stuff out.’
‘No filter.’ Kim brightened. ‘It’s nothing I couldn’t have guessed. Well, in a way you’ve helped me. I can’t accept dirty money.’ She looked at Stevie and put the Thirdfield Terrace sale out of her head. ‘You seem happy, Stevie.’
‘“Seem” is one of those rumbly words.’
Kim looked quizzical, but Stevie did not elaborate. It was the first time Kim had met her since the wedding. Kim and Edward had got into the habit of making inverted commas with theirfingers whenever they talked about that day – ‘the wedding’ – and Kim felt suddenly guilty about that.
‘I’ve left you alone,’ she said. ‘I thought you might be on honeymoon.’
‘Ha!’ said Stevie. ‘With myself? No, right back at work.’
‘Still part-time?’
‘I told you I’m doing a criminology course, didn’t I?’ It came over as a challenge:How could you have forgotten?Kim shook her head. ‘Oh, maybe I kept it quiet. Forensics sort of. No dead bodies yet so I’m thinking I should go missing during a module and see if they can trace me.’
Her last word coincided with Stevie karate-chopping a poppadom, then taking both halves.
‘Why criminology?’
