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“What’s going on with you two?” Paige asked, more gently now.

The honest answer was nothing and possibly everything, so the default came out instead.

“I already told you. Nothing.”

“Lauren.”

“It’s nothing.” Lauren pushed her fringe off her face. “I’m just… I’m missing Reggie, that’s all. It was nice having him in the house again. I’m all out of sorts.”

Paige hid a smile. Becky looked into her pint.

“He’s been sulking since we took him back this morning,” Becky offered. “He lay by the front door for an hour. I think he was waiting for you.”

“See? He misses me too. We’re both in mourning.” Lauren spread her hands. “My house is too quiet. I’m going to go home tonight and talk to the kettle.”

“You can always borrow Berkeley.”

Lauren jumped. Carly had come back from the toilets without any of them noticing and was standing at the end of the table, one hand on the back of her chair. She didn’t sit.

“In fact,” Carly said, “I can bring him over tonight.”

Brisk, almost businesslike. Lauren had no idea how long she’d been standing there. Long enough to hear about Reggie. Hopefully not long enough for anything else.

“Sure,” Lauren said, and shrugged.

Carly’s hand tightened on the chair. “I was only joking. I wouldn’t put that on you.”

“Why not?” The words were out before Lauren could weigh them. “It’ll give you an evening off and give me some company into the bargain. Everyone wins.”

It made perfect sense. Berkeley needed walking and Lauren needed something in the house that breathed. It had nothing to do with the hand on the pitch, or the massage table, or Carly saying you’ve done a good job with them as if it were a fact you could look up.

It was about the dog.

Trying to ignore Paige’s satisfied smirk, Lauren added, “Come over for about six?”

Carly studied her. Whatever had closed in her face hadn’t opened again, but something else had joined it. Lauren had never been able to read Carly, not at eighteen and not now.

“Six,” Carly said. “I’ll bring his food. He’s fussy.”

“I’ll get the kettle on.”

“He doesn’t drink tea.”

“Then he can watch.”

Carly’s mouth lifted at one corner. She picked up her coat from the back of her chair. “I need to collect him from Samantha’s. I’ll see you at six.”

“See you at six,” Lauren said. And then, because her mouth was apparently no longer under her control: “Cheers, mate.”

Carly paused in the middle of putting her arm into her sleeve. She didn’t look round. She just finished pulling the coat on, said goodbye to Paige and Becky and, very politely, to Sam, and walked out through the crowd.

Lauren watched the door close.

“Four,” Paige said.

“Shut up.”

“You invited her round.”