stomach leap frogs. ‘Shit, three hours from now they’ll be arriving.’ As I look through into the living room and imagine twenty guests filing in from the landing my squeak rises to a shriek. ‘How the hell will they all fit in? There’s nowhere near enough chairs for everyone, it’s going to be like playing Sardines.’
Plum sniffs. ‘Maybe Nell has over extended with the numbers, but with the singles’ the more they’re squashed the better they like it.’ She winks at me. ‘Close encounters and all that.’
‘Whatever floats their boats.’ I shudder at that thought, then hold the door open for Charlie as he wanders back across, with Diesel two steps behind. ‘Let’s have tea in the kitchen.’ I’m saying it so often it’s feeling like a habit. This way we avoid Diesel dropping chocolate crumbs on the rug, and I can take a look in the freezer while we’re there.
As Charlie pours the tea and offers the cakes round I whisk a brownie off the plate and sink my teeth into the dark sticky slab. After a few minutes of cocoa swoon, I screw up my courage to speak. ‘So I’m having a few people over this evening.’ I’d planned to sound brighter and more airy, but my throat is clogged with chocolate. As I point to the embarrassingly large cluster of Gordon’s bottles poking out of the carrier bags and amble across to the freezer, it strikes me I need to make it clear he’s not getting an invitation. ‘Gin and home-made sweets for some very, very, very close friends.’ Okay, I’m only bragging about the ‘home-made’ thing because I’m over the effing moon with what we’ve pulled off here. And hopefully he’ll get that the ‘close’ bit excludes pushy neighbours. As I open the freezer door a crack, I’m praying the jammed-in dishes don’t dislodge and come cascading out.
‘Sounds like a chilled kind of evening.’ Charlie’s giving Diesel a bone shaped biscuit from the tray. ‘By the way, I’m not being mean with the brownies, but chocolate’s bad for dogs.’
‘All the more for me then. Excuse me a sec, I’ll just check on the sorbets.’ That’s another sentence I’d never planned to say in my entire life ever. Feeling very like someone else’s mother – obviously not mine, as she doesn’t cook – I lift the cling film and peer into the raspberry mixture. ‘This looks a bit weird, I was expecting it to be solid.’ I’m already regretting my boast. As I stick my finger in and find it’s still as runny as when we put it in, I let out a scream. ‘Waaaaahhhh, it’s still liquid, this can’t be right?’ I turn to Plum.
Plum blinks at her phone. ‘How long’s it been in?’
It feels like hours. ‘It froze solid in half this time when we tried it out at Sophie’s.’
She comes and pokes at the others. ‘Shit, none of it’s anywhere near frozen.’ As she purses her lips her eyes are popping out. ‘There’s no way this is going to be ready for tonight.’
Charlie’s frowning over his tea mug. It’s hand thrown, with grey and blue and white in random stripes. Plum was right, they’re all a teensy bit different but essentially they do all match. In the most on-trend, guy-type of a way. Which kind of suggests he’d fit in very well with a proper ‘Waitrose’ woman. ‘Anything I can help with?’
I send him my most ironic beam. ‘Seriously, I doubt it. Not unless you can explain why an entire sodding freezer full of sodding sorbet is sloppy when it should be frozen?’
He looks like he’s holding back one of those cough-laughs of his. ‘I think you just answered your own question there.’
‘Well thanks a lot, that’s really helpful.’ As I look at his superior sneer something inside me snaps. I don’t even care that I’m shouting. ‘I’ve got no effing idea when the hell I’m doing here. All I know is in a couple of hours a whole load of people are going to descend on me expecting to eat sorbet, and this far all I’ve got to offer them is smoothies. So, unless you’ve got something useful to say, cut the jokes please.’
His lips are twitching. ‘Hang on, there’s no need for a full-scale melt down.’ His smirk’s gone now. ‘What I meant is, if you put a massive amount of food into a freezer it’ll take longer to freeze than a small amount, that’s all. It’s the laws of physics.’
Physics? ‘Still not helpful.’
‘But maybe I can help. I do have an industrial size freezer next door. That should chill your sorbets to perfection in no time.’
‘What?’ Now I am listening. Somehow it’s no surprise he’s got this kind of kit. A freezer like that could save me here, but before I get my hopes up I need to check that it’s not just more bullshit. ‘Just a minute. How did you get one of those up the stairs? Or even fit it into the flat?’
He’s back to looking super pleased with himself without actually smiling. ‘My flat’s a lot bigger than yours. And the builders craned the fridges in when they were doing the balcony work.’ He pauses for a second. ‘It’s got a fast freeze option.’
I feel like my fairy godmother’s flying over the area. ‘Really?’ This time I don’t bother hiding my enthusiasm.
‘It’s a shame you weren’t here, or we could have craned a new one in for you too.’
Oh my days. ‘I’m not sure I’ve actually got the room.’ The man is so out of touch. If I’m having to flog sorbets to pay for roof work, I’m damn sure I can’t afford super-sized fridges. What’s worse, when I look around for a space to put anything tall, the kitchen suddenly feels minute rather than cosy.
‘So …’ He’s staring at me expectantly. ‘What are we waiting for?’
Plum sends me a ‘WTF?’ grin as she slides some trays out from the gap beside the dresser. ‘Best not waste valuable chilling time.’
I know I secretly vowed never to set foot next door, or talk to the neighbour, let alone accept favours from him. But sometimes a situation is so desperate you can’t hold on to your principles. And this is one of those times.
In the flat next door
Fur balls and shaggy rugs
Monday afternoon
‘There you go. I can pretty much promise your sorbets will be ready by the time your friends get here.’ Charlie swings the giant freezer door closed. ‘Don’t forget to come for them in good time. They’ll need twenty minutes to soften up again before serving.’
When he implied his freezer was enormous he was seriously understating. As for his flat, it seems like the top floor of Seaspray Cottage has been divided into ‘minute’ and ‘effing enormous’. And no prizes for guessing which half he’s got. Or how the whole beautiful backdrop of perfection only makes him look ten times more magazine-ready than he does anyway.
The space I’m staring round at is humungous, and there’s so much wall to wall white and natural wool and hewn wood I’m guessing he’s used the same super-expensive decorators as Nate and Sophie. Although the flashes of stainless steel and hi-gloss in his kitchen area are a masculine variation. Instead of being flat like Laura’s, the ceilings rise up to follow the roof line, and the roof lights punched through them let the sun flood in and outline spectacular rectangles of blue sky.
