‘Okay. I’m sorry… who’s Ezra?’ The queue had reached the table now, so Elliot handed me a plate and a paper napkin.
‘Winnie’s dad. Sorry, I hadn’t mentioned that.’
Elliot looked at me blankly for second.
‘Winnie is the bride.’
‘Right. At the wedding yesterday? Did it go well?’
‘Yes.’ I blinked, hard, and somehow found a smile. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good, thanks. Sorry, it’s harder for me to keep up when there’s a lot of background noise.’ There was alotof background noise, thanks to a Beach Boys soundtrack now competing with the conversation and squeals from a cluster of children playing tag. For a split second, Elliot dropped his affable mask and allowed me to see how arduous this was for him.
‘Do you come here every week?’
‘I came a couple of times at the start, when there were fewer people.’
‘So why did you come today, if it’s hard?’
He carefully inspected the platters in front of us, before selecting a mini sausage and egg pie, meatball slider and a spoonful of potato salad. I helped myself to the same straight away.
When he answered it was slowly, as if still figuring out the reason while he spoke. ‘I think that you moving in has given all of us a fresh perspective. That awful lunch last week…’
‘When you could have been here.’
‘Isaac and Arthur would have been here, if I’d not suggested we cook something for you.’
‘That was your idea?’
He nodded, ruefully.
‘Well, thank you. For the thought, at least. Anyway, carry on.’
He hesitated, clearly having lost his thread.
‘You were explaining why you came along today.’
‘Oh, yes. I thought it might be time to try something new. Mix things up a bit. We’ve all got stuck in this small, slightly odd rut, not helped by lockdowns. You being here inspired me to take on some new challenges.’
We helped ourselves to a couple more items (honestly, there was enough to feed the whole village) and scanned the garden for a place to sit. ‘You know I moved back home out of desperation, nothing inspirational?’
Elliot looked at me. I tried to ignore how his eyes once again sparked a rush of yearnful memories. ‘You moved into my house because you were desperate?’ His mouth twitched in amusement. ‘Makes sense, I suppose.’
We started walking to where Connie waved at me from underneath an apple tree.
‘Although I didn’t know about the Chimney Cup when I decided to move in. Or the garden. Or the multicooker.’
Elliot let his mouth drop open in faux surprise. ‘You’re putting the Cup in the same category as the cooker?’
‘Hey!’ Connie beamed as we reached her. ‘For a second there I thought you were going to ditch your new friend to sit with the cool kids.’ She nodded at Elliot. ‘Nice to see you here, Coach.’
‘Coach Simonson?’ Wilf almost tipped out of his camping chair as his head shot up. His look of horror morphed into a sigh of relief, and he sprayed out crumbs of pastry as he realised who it was. ‘Elliot is the assistant coach, Mum.’
‘For now.’ Connie arched one eyebrow as she popped a strawberry in her mouth, causing Elliot to frown.
‘Speculation like that isn’t helpful,’ he said, sitting down on another chair. ‘It only adds to the instability of the team.’
‘Then maybe it’ll get so unstable Simonson topples off!’ Connie retorted. ‘Maybe he’ll start listening to the rumours and take the hint. The club can’t carry on as it is.’
