answer he looks happier. ‘Socialising isn’t on my radar, probably how I’ve avoided getting pushed into it like everyone else has.’ Although it’s on his radar enough to know it exists.
‘Great, well I’d better get on.’ I need to wind this up, before I get into any more deep water. ‘This human works best on Monday mornings if coffee is added. Are you ready for one too?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ The grin that spreads across his face at the offer of a caffeine hit makes his previous one look arctic. ‘Only joking, why not let me make them?’
‘That’s what I’m here for.’ Obviously, I don’t want him at my sorbet evening, but all the same I can’t quite work out why Nell hasn’t snapped this one up for her singles’ group. With lines like that I’d say he has all the makings of a ‘keeper’.
Despite being a twenty-four seven workaholic, it turns out George is just as shit as me about the Monday thing. Four coffees on for each of us, with no visit from Charlie, we finally get to lunchtime, and I’m free to go and make sorbet. Ten hours from now the micro-venue theory will have been tested to destruction, and my life will be back on its old course again. All I have to do is hold my nerve and get through to midnight.
Two hours later, Plum and I are up to our elbows in pureed raspberries in Laura’s kitchen, looking out across the blue sparkling water of St Aidan Bay as we sieve the last double batch.
Plum counts them off on her fingers as she juggles the containers in the freezer, which is rammed. ‘Strawberry, pear and rosemary, lemon, lime and peppermint, water melon, orange and mango, cucumber and mint. There’s just about enough room to squeeze the raspberry in here too.’
‘As Sophie says, they’re gluten-free, dairy-free, suitable for vegetarians, pescetarians, vegans, celiacs and lactose intolerants.’ Now they’re almost done, I’m feeling dizzy, excited and so uptight I’m squeaking when I should be talking.
Plum laughs. ‘Sophie would say that. Better still, they’re bloody delicious, those recipes of Laura’s are on point.’
‘I can’t believe it was so easy. If this is cooking, bring it on.’ Even if I’m joking, I’m still stunned at what we’ve done. If Laura could see me now, somehow, I know she’d be happy.
Plum scrapes the last of the dark ruby mixture into a shallow dish. ‘I had a flick through the recipe basket earlier. Nothing’s too complicated to make, but everything in there looks seriously yummy.’
‘Which kind of reminds me …’ Edible being everyone else’s description of the man in question, not mine. ‘Do you think Nell’s interested in my neighbour?’ I can’t quite bring myself to say his name. When I think of him trying to wrestle the flat away from me I’m livid. But then I catch my stomach disintegrating when I think about the way he looked at me afterwards.
Plum wrinkles her nose and rubs her finger round the rim of the bowl. ‘Nell would never admit it. But she does get extra animated whenever he’s around.’
I’ve no idea why I wish she hadn’t said that. ‘I’d noticed too.’ It’s good to get this out in the open.
‘Then she always claims it’s on other people’s behalf.’ Plum rolls her eyes as she sucks raspberry mixture off her finger. ‘She loves it when she gets couples together at her events. But she always holds back herself.’
I let my lips curl into a smile. ‘Maybe we’ll have to give her a helping hand, one of these days.’
Plum grins. ‘A bloody great push more like.’
It’s funny how differently our lives have all panned out. When Sophie was brave enough to have Milla on her own not long after uni, none of us imagined ten years later she’d have Nate, her business and three more children. Plum and I were always the ones to prioritise life not relationships. Whereas Nell was the one who always had a boyfriend in tow, from the age of thirteen onwards. She settled down early and bought into the whole mortgage and the house on the estate with way more bedrooms than they needed, only to have it all crack up. Last year, quite abruptly, she and Guy decided they’d be better apart than together. He moved to Glasgow, and that was that. One weekend she was enjoying a married mini break in Bridport. The next she had her house on the market and was flinging herself into singles’ karaoke at the Hungry Shark.
Somehow the parade of wooden penguins has migrated from the living room shelf to the kitchen table. Okay, they didn’t move on their own, it was me. That’s another thing I’ve remembered. Laura used to move them around. I pick one up and rub its white painted stomach. ‘Nell definitely deserves a second chance to find her special penguin.’
Plum’s eyes light up at the reference. ‘Oh my, remember Drew Barrymore and Never Been Kissed? How many times did we watch that film when we were teenagers?’
I laugh. ‘Enough times to know the scenes off by heart. And for you and me to decide the bit about spending our lives looking for one penguin to stay with forever with was bollocks.’
She wrinkles her nose. ‘Josie Geller getting her penguin at the end was still one of the best movie snogs ever.’
‘Even though I’d hate to be tied down personally, it still gives me teenage goosebumps when I think about it.’ It’s great to be able to admit this to Plum and know she won’t ever try to hook me up with anyone. ‘So what’s the story with George? How come he isn’t press ganged into going to Nell’s events?’ I may as well ask now we’re here. Then we’ve covered everything.
She laughs. ‘George goes his own way; we all gave up on him years ago.’ She adds the empty bowl to the huge stack next to the sink and slides the last dish into the freezer. ‘So what’s next? Shall we clear away, then go for the booze?’
I turn on the tap. ‘Good idea. At least with washing up and Gin Fizz, I’m back in my comfort zone.’
Plum picks up a tea towel. ‘And there can’t be too many sinks in the world with a view straight out to sea. Which is a good thing, because looking at the number of dishes, we’re going to be here forever.’
It turns out that she’s right. By the time we get back from town it’s late afternoon. We’re on the landing letting ourselves into the flat, when the door across the way swings open.
‘Charlie, lovely to see you.’ I’m over compensating here. He’s the last person I want to meet when our bags are clinking with enough gin and soda for twenty, plus helpers.
‘Diesel and I thought you might like some tea?’
I’m kicking myself for staring at his bare feet and tanned ankles. ‘Errrr …’ My mouth gapes. As I try to work out the best excuse I let my eyes rise, and notice he’s carrying a loaded tray.
He’s too quick for me. ‘Great, it’s all ready, and we have brownies. Just showing there’s no hard feelings after yesterday. I’ll grab another mug for Plum.’
I pull a face at Plum as he disappears. ‘Because obviously the six shelves of mugs at ours won’t be enough.’ As for who’s the hard feelings are, he doesn’t say. I’m guessing if he was the one apologising, he’d come out and say it. In which case this is him saying he’s forgiven me for calling him an ‘opportunist’. Or was it an ‘arse’? I refuse to be forgiven for telling the truth, so those brownies had better be amazing, or it could all
