then Eve hadn’t been entirely sure he was asking her out on a date. And to begin with it wasn’t a date; it was a coffee. And then another. And another. Between then and now, Ian Newsome had bought her an awful lot of caffeine.
‘I bought you all something,’ Eve said now, as she took off her trench and slung it over the back of her chair. She tried not to notice Hannah eye her stripy T-shirt. Whether the girl’s expression was disapproval or amusement was hard to tell, but it certainly wasn’t covetousness. Maybe she’d tried too hard, Eve thought. Maybe the girl could smell that, like dogs smell fear and cats make a beeline for the one person in the room who’s allergic.
‘Here,’ she said, offering a copy of Philip Pullman’s Northern Lights to Hannah. ‘I loved this. I hope you haven’t read it.’
Hannah smiled politely but didn’t put out her hand. ‘I have, actually. When I was younger…’
‘But thank you,’ she added, when Sophie nudged her. ‘I loved it.’
The book hung in midair, hovering above mugs of cooling hot chocolate. Eve felt her face flame, as she willed Hannah to take the book anyway. The girl studiously ignored it.
Eve could have kicked herself.
This was tough enough as it was. Why had she taken a risk like that? It would have been so much easier just to ask Ian what books they had. Only she’d wanted to do it on her own. She’d wanted to prove she could get it right.
‘Oh well,’ Eve said, admitting defeat. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll exchange it for something else.’
‘Thanks. But there’s no need.’ Hannah held up a dogeared magazine, open at a spread about Gossip Girl. ‘I prefer magazines anyway.’
‘What about me?’ demanded Alfie. ‘What did you buy me?’
‘It’s not your turn,’ Sophie said, punching Alfie’s arm. ‘It’s mine.’
‘Ow-uh!’ Alfie’s face fell. But when he saw Eve watching, he grinned. His heart wasn’t in being upset.
Regaining her confidence, she gave Sophie a brightlycoloured hardback. ‘It’s the new Jacqueline Wilson; I hope you haven’t read it too.’
Sophie’s squeal reached Ian as he returned, holding a large cup and saucer that he’d been waiting at the counter to collect. ‘What’s the matter?’ he said. He shot Eve an, I’ve-only-been-gone-two-minutes-is-everything-OK? Glance.
‘Look,’ Sophie said, waving the book. ‘Look what Eve got me!’
‘Aren’t you lucky?’ Ian looked pleased.
‘What’s Eve got me?’ Alfie asked again.
‘For God’s sake Alfie,’ Hannah said. ‘Don’t be so rude.’ She was grown up enough to sound like her mother. Well, what Eve remembered Caro sounding like from hearing her on television.
‘That’s enough,’ Ian said, rolling his eyes. ‘Chill, both of you. And Hannah, you know I don’t like you saying for God’s sake.’
Hannah scowled.
Nervously, Eve offered Alfie a copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. With Roald Dahl’s words and Quentin Blake’s illustrations, it was a book she loved. She still had a copy somewhere, probably in her parents’ attic.
‘Hey Dad, look,’ Alfie said, snatching it. Immediately whatever chocolate wasn’t smeared on his face was transferred to the book’s cover. ‘Spiderman’s got a new hovercraft.’ He sat one of his plastic figures on the book, before turning to Eve.
‘You be Venom.’
‘Later,’ Ian said. ‘Let Eve eat her cake first.’ He smiled at her, then glanced at the table, a frown creasing his face. ‘Alfie,’ he said. ‘Where is Eve’s éclair?’
‘They’re…Well, cute, I guess.’
‘Cute?’ Clare Adams said.
‘Yes, cute. Small, blonde, cute.’
The woman leaning on the work surface turned to look at her. ‘They’re children and there are three of them. There has to be more to say about them than, they’re cute.’
Eve was in the kitchen of her friend’s flat in East Finchley. It was a small flat, with an even smaller kitchen. As it was, there was barely room for the two of them. When Clare’s daughter, Louisa, got home it would be full to capacity.
Rubbing her hands over her face, Eve felt the skin drag. The magazine’s beauty director was always telling her not to do that. But Eve did it anyway, pushing her face into her hands hard enough to see stars. How could one hour with three children be so draining?
‘OK, let’s be honest about this. Cute, well brought-up…And lethal. Like a miniature firing squad. Only some of them wanted to shoot me more than others.’
‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ said Clare, flicking off the kettle just as it was coming to the boil. ‘You know, I don’t think a cup of tea is going to cut it.’
Heading for the fridge, she peered inside at the chaos of Louisa’s half-eaten sandwiches and jars that had long since lost contact with their lids. Emerging with half-empty bottles in either hand, Clare said, ‘Already opened bottle of Tesco’s cheapest plonk or own brand vodka and flat tonic?’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think to bring wine,’ Eve said. ‘I just…fled, I s’pose.’
After leaving Patisserie Valerie, Eve had made the journey on the Northern Line from Soho to East Finchley on autopilot, not even calling ahead to make sure Clare was at home. Although Clare was almost always home at weekends. A single mum, with a teenage daughter on a secondary school teacher’s salary, she rarely had the spare cash for a bit of light Saturday afternoon shopping.
And when she did, it was Louisa who got the goodies.
‘You want me to pop to Tesco Express on the High Road?’ Eve asked, reaching for her bag.
‘No need.’ Using her arm, Clare swept aside exercise books to make space on the table for a bottle of Sicilian white and two large wineglasses. ‘All I’m saying is, it’s not Chablis!’
When Ian first announced he’d like her to meet his children, Eve had thought they’d make a day of it: shops, a pizza, perhaps the zoo. An idea Ian rapidly squashed.
At the time she’d been hurt, maybe even a bit offended.
But now…
Now she was grateful he’d insisted they keep their first meeting brief. ‘So as not to wear them out,’ he’d explained. Eve couldn’t help thinking that she was the one in need of recuperation.
After Patisserie Valerie came Hamley’s for Alfie and Sophie, and Topshop
