and unlucky in love as well. Not much of a life-enhancer. Take no notice.’
‘You should have called me,’ Ellen offered. ‘I’d have come round.’
‘I did. I spoke to Oliver a couple of times, but he said you were busy and couldn’t come to the phone.’
‘Busy?’ Ellen looked puzzled. ‘When was that?’
‘I can’t remember. Monday, maybe. And then Tuesday. I did think it was a bit odd that you were too busy both times, but what do I know? Poor put-upon singleton that I am.’
‘Oh, please.’ Kate played air-violin. ‘Stop now, before I burst into tears.’
Ellen laughed. ‘I can’t remember what I was doing unless it was when I was going through my wardrobe.’
‘What? Your wardrobe’s been set in aspic for years. You don’t do “going through” your wardrobe.’
‘She’s right,’ Kate agreed. ‘I’ve never known you throw anything out.’
‘Oliver went through my dresses and skirts when I was away and made some suggestions, then encouraged me to take a few things to the charity shop. Don’t know why I’ve never done it before really . . . What?’
Kate and Bea were looking at her open-mouthed.
‘He went through your wardrobe while you were away?’ Bea said, incredulous. ‘I’d kill anyone who went through mine.’
‘Only because yours is such a shambles you don’t know what they’d find.’
‘It’s not that bad. Just a tad disordered. But I wouldn’t want anyone going through my things.’
‘I didn’t think of it like that.’ Ellen looked perplexed. ‘He was only trying to help.’
‘I’m sure he was,’ said Bea. ‘But what was he doing there anyway? Hasn’t he got the flat?’
‘He has a key. Anyway, he was helping put up the studio-shed.’
‘The what?’ Bea got up to help herself to another drink.
‘My new studio. It’s a shed. Oliver thought he’d surprise me with somewhere I could paint. So he got the whole thing installed while I was in Cornwall.’
Both Bea and Kate stared at her as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.
‘He surprised you with a shed?’ Bea spoke slowly as if she might have misunderstood. ‘Completely out of the blue? He can’t do that. He hardly knows you. What about your garden?’
‘Put like that it does sound a bit unusual.’
‘Unusual? I’ll say.’
‘But he’s a man who acts on impulse. He wanted to give me something special for my birthday, and thought putting a studio into the garden was what I’d want.’
‘Did you?’
‘Of course.’ She didn’t sound entirely certain. ‘And I’ll enjoy planning and replanting parts of the garden.’ As she went on to describe it, Kate could see that Bea’s continuing interrogation was making Ellen uncomfortable. She obviously didn’t like Bea’s implication that Oliver had gone too far. Kate decided to change the subject. ‘What about a job?’ she asked. ‘Has he had any luck yet?’
‘Nothing.’ Ellen looked relieved and grateful. ‘But you know how difficult it is at the moment. There aren’t that many jobs around and he isn’t known on the circuit since he’s been in France.’
‘But he’s not in a position to be fussy, is he? There must be something he could do.’
‘I know.’ Ellen sighed. ‘I’ve said as much. But he bites my head off.’ She seemed quite resigned to the way he was.
‘Ah, so all is not one hundred per cent in the Garden of Eden, then?’ Bea couldn’t resist.
‘Bea . . .’ warned Kate. ‘I’d better get the pie.’ She was anxious to move the conversation on to a less controversial tack. After all these years, the last thing she wanted to do was throw cold water on Ellen’s contentment. They still hadn’t met Oliver, so were hardly in a position to judge him.
‘Well, if Kate envies me, I envy you actually,’ Bea volunteered suddenly, looking at Ellen, who had ignored her previous remark. ‘Apart from the clothes thing, of course – that’s a bit too controlling for me. But he’s obviously mad about you.’
‘You will find someone, Bea. Probably when you’re least expecting it.’
‘That should be about now, then!’ She and Ellen went over to the table and sat down while Kate wrestled the pie out of the oven. ‘Do you want a hand?’
‘No. I’m fine. Ellen’s right, you know.’
‘Mmm. Maybe. But look at me! I’m beset by a hormonal teenager who, as far as I know, has as much chance of becoming a nuclear physicist as he does a mass murderer; an overbearing boss; a Mr Bean type in the City whom I’ve met for one drink; and some knob who left a calling card that took me to the clap clinic. And he left fake contact details with the agency so I can’t even have the pleasure of passing on the good news. Bloody marvellous.’
Just then Kate reached the table. ‘Put like that, I see what you mean. And who’d want to compete with them? Mind out! This is hot!’ Her voice rose to a shriek as the tea-towel she was using as an oven glove slipped. The pie-dish pressed against the heel of her right hand. She tried to get it to the table in time. But, in agony, she let go a moment too soon, just before the dish was fully on the table. In horrified silence they watched as the pie arced over and down, the dish shattering into smithereens and the pie splattering across the pristine limestone-tiled floor.
The three women stared at it. Kate was the first to break the silence. ‘Paul’s favourite dish. He’ll kill me!’
A clearing of Bea’s throat was followed by a stifled cough from Ellen. Kate looked up to see that the two of them were trying to contain their laughter.
‘God, look at us. It’s not exactly Sex and the City, is it?’ As Bea choked the words out, she couldn’t control herself any longer and, with an explosive snort, she cracked up completely. At that, Ellen followed suit, leaving Kate to join in as she held her hand under the cold tap. They laughed together till the tears rolled down their faces.
At last, when the only sounds to be heard were a few muffled whimpers from Bea, and Ellen was wiping her eyes with a bit of kitchen roll, Kate spoke: ‘Fish and chips, anyone?’
*
A couple of hours later, Kate was alone again in the kitchen. The fish pie was in the bin, the fish-and-chips papers had been recycled and the plates and glasses were in the machine. Paul was still not back. Bea had left with Ellen half an hour earlier, prompted by a call from Oliver wondering where Ellen was. He couldn’t be blamed, Kate supposed. He wasn’t to know that the evenings they spent together always ran on into the night. There was always so much to catch up on, now more than ever, and none of them ever wanted their time
