‘Actually, the Brits used the word eggplant until the eighteenth century.’
‘You just made that up.’
He’d opened the flour and had started sieving it. I did a double-take – I had asieve?
He caught me staring. ‘Yes, I bought a sieve. Now stop looking at me like I’ve grown a third arm.’
He finished making the sauce while I peeled and sliced potatoes and aubergines. Then, we greased a Pyrex dish and layered in our mince, vegetables and bechamel.
The final touch was grating some Cheddar. Not strictly traditional, but he’d assumed I would have parmesan.
‘You can’t beat a good Cheddar,’ I explained.
‘I remember you were obsessed with it as a kid.’
‘Was I?’
‘Yeah, you hated it when your mum made sandwiches with halloumi.’
I frowned. ‘It’s not that I hated other cheeses, I just hated standing out.’ When I was younger, I tried to wear my Greekness as lightly as possible.
He rubbed my arm. ‘Every kid goes through phases like that.’
‘I couldn’t believe my uni friends grilled halloumi when we did barbecues.’ I shook my head. ‘All those years being embarrassed – what an idiot I was.’
‘I always loved that you were Greek – and not only because your parents always had eight different types of snack to offer me when I came round. I should have told you more often. Your place felt more like home than my own. My folks barely spoke to each other, and when they did it was via screaming matches about whose life was shittier. The only time I ever heard your parents shout at each other was when your dad had added cinnamon to your mum’sspanakopittarecipe.’
I smiled. ‘TheCannellaIncident. We still can’t speak of it.’
*
The moussaka was lovely. But what made it lovelier was sharing it with Simon. We were sprawled on the sofa, our tummies full, and on our second bottle of wine.
‘It’s great being back in London,’ he said. ‘I should have come back sooner.’
‘It’s great having you back, Si.’
‘After my marriage fell apart, I thought I would too.’
He’d never really spoken about his divorce. ‘I’m sorry. I wish I could have been there for you.’
‘I was a fool for not keeping in touch. Only communicating through email or Facebook. I wasn’t prepared to admit my marriage was a mistake. I avoided well-meaning friends who saw the end coming long before I did.’ He paused. ‘She cheated on me.’
‘Oh God. That’s awful.’
‘She claimed it was because I was at work all the time, some nights till midnight.’
‘That’s still not an excuse for infidelity,’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘Maybe I was avoiding her, though. So, my motives weren’t one hundred per cent pure. I should have listened to my gut and owned up that the marriage wasn’t working. But I’ve learnt something about myself: avoiding my problems never works out.’
‘It’s great that you can take something positive from it all.’
‘I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but it was a hell of a learning experience.’
I picked up my wine glass. ‘To learning experiences.’
‘And old friends.’
