danger of that.’
This was followed by a semi-snort and Nell wondered if she had imagined the slight edge to Lucy’s tone. Perhaps not. Her mum was horrendously nosy – they berated her for it all the time – and Nell knew that Lucy was a very private person.
Lucy straightened, her face flushed from the oven. ‘So. I’m cheating a bit with a tomato bruschetta starter and I think I can just about cook the herby lamb things. It’s just these awful, pissing meringues.’ She wiped her furrowed brow. ‘I mean, how is it possible to undercook them, overcook them and, my best one yet … turn them into shrivelled cowpats?’
‘You know this is like the blind leading the blind?’ Nell picked up the iPad Luke had left on the counter. ‘How to cook the perfect meringue,’ she began, skim-reading the page. ‘Right. Apparently, you need to use a glass bowl, you mustn’t get yolks into the whites and it’s imperative that you use cream of tartar. What the hell is cream of tartar?’
‘Buggered if I know,’ Lucy replied, looking crestfallen. ‘This was a really, really bad idea.’
Nell spotted a recipe on the internet page. ‘Why not make Eton mess instead? If you have a meringue that’s even vaguely decent, you could smash it up, smother it with cream and slap some berries on top. Luke won’t even know he’s eating a cowpat.’
‘Genius. I’m sold.’ Looking relieved, Lucy took a seat on a bar stool, her movements measured and careful, Nell noted. Why? What was that about?
Lucy pointed at the magazine Nell was thumbing through. ‘Vogue. That’s probably a fashion student’s bible, isn’t it? Too many adverts for me, I’m afraid.’
‘I’d kill to feature in one of those adverts. My fashion line, I mean. That’s the plan … one day.’
‘The next Vivienne Westwood.’
‘Just … the new Nell Harte.’ Nell felt herself flushing. She probably sounded pretentious. ‘You know what I mean, though. I don’t want to be compared to anyone else. I just want to do my thing.’ She needn’t have worried; Lucy hadn’t noticed, seemingly preoccupied, if in a rather vague way, with a carton of coconut water.
‘So, what’s new with you?’
‘Me? Not much. You know my life is dull. Do you have any news?’
Lucy shook her head, casting her eyes down. ‘Not really. Obviously I got married five years ago today, but apart from that … nothing much to report, I’m afraid.’
Nell considered her sister-in-law. There was something different about her. She was wearing a new top, a floaty, floral effort, which wasn’t her usual taste, but it wasn’t just the clothes. Lucy had a great figure for fashion – slim, not remotely busty, slight hips – but actually, there seemed to be a fairly substantial bust there today. And the hips … Were they a little fuller? It was possible Lucy had put on a few pounds since they’d last had a proper chat, but Nell decided it suited her, career as a fashion model notwithstanding.
‘Would you like some?’ Nell gestured to the coconut water.
‘Ummmm, no thank you.’ Lucy pushed it away. ‘It smells gross.’
‘It doesn’t taste much better than it smells,’ Nell said, sipping it and gagging. ‘All the rage, but like many fashions, style over substance.’ She dumped it in the bin, noticing Lucy’s expression flicker. Was something wrong? Nell felt anxious, but as Lucy’s features settled, she relaxed again.
‘Patricia was popular at the barbecue yesterday,’ Lucy commented. ‘Chatted up by all sorts of … by all sorts.’
‘Yes, but she wasn’t having any of it. I don’t think she can see herself with anyone but dad. I don’t want her to replace him or anything either, but it would be nice to see her happy again.’ Nell pulled a face. ‘Not sure she gives off the right vibes though … she’s a bit …’
‘Detached?’ Lucy offered.
Nell shrugged. ‘I guess so. Yes.’
Lucy nodded distractedly. ‘It must be hard for her. I’ve only been married for five years, not the thirty – thirty three?’ She glanced at Nell who gave a nod of agreement. ‘And I can’t imagine being with anyone else but Luke. And I’m not just saying that because you’re his sister.’
Nell smiled and chewed a stubby fingernail. She didn’t know much about marriage, or relationships for that matter. She’d had a few boyfriends on and off since she was fifteen, but nothing serious. Not until now.
She was desperate to confide in someone and Lucy was here, now. Nell faltered. But maybe Luke was a better person to talk to about this. A man’s perspective. She could guess what the woman’s perspective would be. Actually, Nell mused, did she want to confess this particular deed to anyone at all? She already felt ashamed of herself and she wasn’t sure she could handle more judgement.
Hearing Luke returning from his run, Nell edged herself off the bar stool. ‘This has been lovely, but I’d better be off. I’ve got an evil new lecturer who thinks I need to work on my fashion portfolio, even though I’ve only been back at college for a few weeks.’
Nell suddenly noticed how pale Lucy looked and her brain kicked in. Swollen boobs, slightly fuller in the face, flinching at pungent smells. Of course.
‘That is evil,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Poor you.’ She stood up but remained behind the counter. ‘Thanks for the meringue advice.’
‘Any time. Thanks for the chat.’ Nell walked around the counter and pulled Lucy into a warm hug. Yes, she was definitely right about her sister-in-law. That was a firm, pregnant stomach, all right. Nell felt a shiver of apprehension. This time. Let it happen for them this time.
‘You’re not leaving?’ Luke strolled in wearing shorts and a damp-looking T-shirt. ‘I’ve got to do an extra shift this afternoon, but you can stay for a bit, can’t you?’ He sniffed an armpit. ‘Do I smell that bad?’
‘Your feet do,’ Lucy said, pulling a face.
‘I have to do some work. Yuk … how do you put up with him, Luce?’ Nell danced out of the way of his sweaty embrace and headed down the hallway.
‘You dropped this.’ Turning, she found Luke holding out a piece of paper.
She took it, feeling idiotic. ‘You didn’t—’
‘Of course I didn’t read it, Nell.’ Luke’s eyes assessed her. He was concerned, not judgemental. ‘You still do that?’
Nell gave an off-hand shrug. ‘Only now and again. That’s an old one. I – I only do it when I feel a bit, you know … anxious.’
Luke nodded, seeming to accept what she said. ‘Makes sense.’ He put his hand on her arm. ‘But you know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? Anything at all?’
‘Yes. I do. And thank you. Don’t worry about me, Luke; I’m fine. Enjoy your anniversary dinner, won’t you? Even the cow pats.’
Leaving him to ponder that gem, Nell closed the door and leant against it. Why hadn’t she said anything to Luke?
