‘He’s staying up the road at Holland Park and had just popped in.’
I didn’t meet his eye. Instead, I unfolded the extra leaf, slotted it in and clicked the lever back into place.
Pete didn’t answer, which I took to mean he’d believed me. I just had to make sure the real location of Simon’s hotel didn’t come up in conversation later.
‘Alice said you two had a great night out.’
‘She did?’How did Alice know about last night?
‘Yeah, at a ukulele bar of all places.’
He was talking about Friday night, of course. But had Alice mentioned the texts from Simon?
‘Yeah, it was great,’ I said, casually. The conversation was veering into dangerous territory again. ‘These place mats are hideous – who buys cats in Charles the Second wigs?’
Pete shrugged. ‘Mum, obviously.’
‘I’ll go and find the old ones.’
*
Mum had a bit of a meal time ritual: she didn’t pick up her knife and fork until everyone had piled their plates with double portions of everything. I dropped a stone when I moved out for university, and Mum was the only one who’d never understood why. I shouldn’t complain, though; we ate well as kids, and my parents still knew how to put on a spread. On a glistening stainless-steel platter they’d piled thick slabs of pork fillet, marinated overnight in red wine and herbs, and cooked perfectly over the charcoal – crisp on the outside, tender in the middle. On another platter were Cyprus potatoes, roasted in peanut oil until golden and crunchy. The salad was too big for the table so was relegated to the sideboard behind Dad. He kept reminding everyone where it was, in case we failed to spot the drum-sized bowl.
Apart from comments such as ‘Have some more meat’ and ‘Plenty of potatoes still in the oven’, my family’s not big on talking when there’s food around. Mealtimes are for the jaw, not the tongue, as Mum likes to remind us. When we were kids, she’d tell us off when she couldn’t hear chewing – I had to seriously modify my noisy eating when I’d go over to friends’ houses for meals. Simon came from the opposite school of thought, though. Polite conversation was a must over dinner – silence was a dangerous invitation for simmering resentments to boil over. He kept trying to resuscitate the conversation, regardless of the scant encouragement. In one of the longer pauses, the cat-flap swung open and Athena scampered in. She made straight for her bowl which Mum had filled with finely cut pieces of barbecued pork.
Simon pounced on the opportunity. ‘So, Sophia, when did you get another cat?’
He knew how heartbroken Mum had been when our older cats died. We had two when I was growing up: Rocky and Rambo. Pete got to name them and I was too young to argue.
‘We didn’t,’ said Mum, forking another potato onto her plate.
Simon frowned at me.
‘It’s the neighbour’s cat,’ I said. ‘Mum sort of encourages her over.’
Simon nodded. ‘With food?’
‘And a cat basket, and a scratching post, and a new name,’ said Pete.
‘She’s free to go wherever she likes,’ said Mum. ‘She obviously prefers it here.’
Alice had been throwing glances at me while we ate, but I’d refused to acknowledge them, mainly because Mum was so eagle-eyed she’d have immediately thought one of us had some huge news to impart – news that brought her closer to attaining her much-desired status of grandmother. But when there was a pause, during which Pete got up to make Greek coffee in a copper-bottomed pot and my folks made a start on the washing-up, she addressed Simon directly.
‘So, how long are you here for?’
‘I’m kinda back for good,’ he replied.
Alice shot me another look, but I pretended to look at my watch – when had it become a quarter to three?
‘Then you must come to the wedding,’ she said.
I looked up in panic to see Simon’s reaction. He was shaking his head. ‘That’s so kind, Alice, but honestly, I wouldn’t want to screw up your seating plans or anything.’
‘Oh, we’re nowhere near doing that,’ she said. ‘Besides, you’re such an old friend of the family, it would be wrong if you didn’t come.’
‘My mum’s organising her own wedding,’ said Simon, ‘and she’d hit the roof if someone she’d just met wanted to come to hers.’
‘Well, we should all get to know each other, then,’ said Alice, who was showing the kind of determination that explained how she’d achieved the sculpted body of an Olympian. ‘Why don’t the two of you come over for dinner one evening? We don’t have much on this week.’
