cloths soaking in bleach.
It was almost impossible to believe it had once been her life. Every time she thought about growing up in that house, which was as little as possible, she’d be astonished by her younger self, by her resourcefulness. Shut up in her room, every second of her life was accounted for. She was confined by the overwhelming fear her parents had of the world and the people in it. The mistrust of society. Straight back from school, straight back from work. Jessica had waited years to squirrel away the cash to leave.
As the sun blistered down, the sound of her scrubbing was interrupted by a familiar voice saying, ‘Ah, you have been put to work.’
She stopped to look up and saw the guy from the bar standing with his arms crossed over his chest, dressed in leather motorbike trousers and a bright purple t-shirt, a smirk on his lips. ‘This outfit, it is very flattering,’ he said, pointing to her boilersuit.
Jessica raised her brows. ‘Are you stalking me?’
‘Ha, no.’ He shook his head, then took the couple of steps down to the patio. ‘I am looking for Ms Libby. I help her out a bit last week and I am free today so I thought …?’ He shrugged. ‘She might need more help. I am Bruno by the way.’
‘Libby’s inside,’ Jessica said, starting to scrub again.
He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. ‘You know in most cultures it is polite to return a greeting. A person might even say their name.’
She paused, wiped her brow, and then leant her hands on the edge of the bucket. ‘I’m sure they might,’ she said, one eyebrow arched. ‘But I think it would also depend on whether that person wanted the other person to know their name or not, wouldn’t it?’
Bruno held his hands up to object. ‘I don’t know what that person’s problem would be with just wanting to know someone’s name.’
‘Jessica?’ Miles’s voice called from the terrace and he jogged down the steps to see if she was still by the pool. ‘Jimmy said you had the bucket. Oh …’ He paused when he saw Bruno. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were with someone. Hi.’ Miles held out a hand. ‘Miles.’
‘Bruno.’
Jessica stiffened and she could see Bruno notice.
‘You are all friends?’ Bruno said as he looked between them.
‘Kind of,’ said Jessica.
‘In a fashion,’ said Miles at the same time.
Bruno nodded.
The sun seemed like the fourth person in the conversation, beating down on them all, firing up the unescapable cicadas, a tinnitus hum in her ears.
‘Yes,’ said Miles. ‘Yes, we’re all friends.’
Bruno had his eyes still on Jessica, absorbing her reactions. She looked down at the dirty tiles.
‘Well, I erm …’ Miles pointed to the bucket. ‘I just came for that. I’m giving Jimmy a hand.’
‘I kind of need it,’ Jessica said. ‘Isn’t there another one?’
Miles frowned. ‘I don’t know. Jimmy just said there was a red bucket.’
‘OK, fine,’ she said. ‘You have it. I’ll find another one.’
Miles looked a bit hesitant.
‘Seriously, have it, I can do something else,’ she said, pushing the bucket his way.
Miles walked over and picked it up, the water sloshing over the sides in what seemed to be his haste to leave.
Bruno watched him go and then said, ‘I’ll go and find Ms Libby.’
At the top step he stopped and glanced back. ‘I’ve never met a Jessica before,’ he said.
‘Well, now you have,’ Jessica said, pushing herself up to standing, still distracted by the arrival and departure of Miles.
He nodded. ‘You look like a Jessica.’
She put her hands on her hips and sighed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Bruno shrugged. ‘An interesting challenge,’ he said with a smile, and sauntered off in search of Libby.
The sun was low in the sky, just brushing the line of trees as it tipped into late afternoon. Everyone was exhausted. The heat had sucked them dry of energy. Libby and Eve had done some fractious decorating, unable to agree on almost any of the renovation choices. In the end they had focused on ripping up the carpets with Bruno.
Jimmy and Miles had slashed half the garden. It looked like a first day haircut, no one quite sure whether it would settle into something good or bad. She was amazed Miles had flown all the way from the States to be there. He said he’d been due a holiday but she wondered if really he’d been craving something familiar. He hadn’t mentioned Flo so neither had Libby but in retrospect she wished she had. It was weird though, to know what to say to him, because he looked so unlike himself nowadays—all polished and smooth-edged.
She’d wondered what Jessica had thought when she’d seen him. But then she’d seen the sparkling poolside patio and, putting two and two together, Libby had presumed she’d been in need of hard-work distraction.
The terrace, on the other hand, was practically untouched, Dex having had a snooze in a lounge chair for most of the morning.
Now as Libby stood in front of them all in the outhouse she suddenly felt a bit stupid for cajoling them into a baking class. They were all there, standing reluctantly behind their benches like school children. Jessica had her phone on her table and was trying to surreptitiously scroll through her emails.
‘OK, so, what I’m thinking is that there will be scheduled baking times every day throughout the week. So, one day we’d make muffins and things for breakfast, another day bread for lunch, and then in the afternoon, like now, we’ll make a dessert or petit fours for after dinner with coffee. That’s how I planned it. It might change. That’s why you’re here. Guinea pigs. OK.’ Libby gave a small laugh and tied up her hair.
Miles tried to stifle a yawn behind his cup of coffee. ‘Sorry, jet lag,’ he said.
It was much easier when she did it to camera for her YouTube videos, with no one watching her.
Dex was leaning forward, chin cupped in his hands, elbows on the table, staring unblinking at her. The not-concentrating looks between Eve and Jimmy were equally distracting. All that as well as Jessica unsubtly tapping away on her phone. The worst, however, were the glares of complete disdain from Giulia at the back, who Libby had roped in to up the numbers and to try and win her round to the concept.
‘OK,’ Libby said again, then she felt her cheeks start to flush. She couldn’t work out how to start without clapping her hands together like a strict Home Economics teacher. These were her peers, not people
