‘Oh, I remember this.’ I exhaled, as she waved her hand at me to take another sip.
‘My mother’s recipe never fails to warm the weariest of hearts.’
I took one more sumptuous mouthful before handing it back and helping her to a chair at her favourite table, reaching down to give her shoulders a squeeze before I took the seat next to her.
‘Whatever’s responsible for those shadows in your eyes, I hope it helped.’
It had, but an old friend noticing that there was more going on than an exasperating morning helped so much more. I did my best to focus on the conversation around the table as we munched through Wendy’s lamb pasties and celeriac slaw. However, as the debate flew back and forth about whether the chair of the parish council should resign, my hurt and humiliation were like a bruise, throbbing beneath my skin.
Once the main course was over, the head judge, Wendy – a culinary Simon Cowell if ever there was one – stood up to announce the winners. When she started off by saying that the six entries were, ‘not a complete disaster, I suppose, considering they were created by amateurs’, it was all I could do to resist throwing my fork at her head, given my fractious state. Instead, I waited for her to announce Glenda’s tiramisu cheesecake the winner, left Mum to interject when she attempted to boot Harris from going any further in the competition, and hurried back to the office for a five-minute breather before heading back to the kitchen for round two.
Half-way down the corridor, I bumped into Elliot. The person I probably most and least wanted to see right then.
‘Hi.’ His face brightened in relief when he saw me.
‘Hello.’ I automatically tucked my bedraggled hair behind my ears.
‘I had a look in the main hall but couldn’t find anybody.’
‘It’s lunchtime, they’re all in the café eating dessert.’
‘Oh okay, well I’ve found you, now, so that’s saved me from poking around anywhere else.’
I looked at him for a moment, trying to work out quite how confused he was.
‘Who were you looking for?’
His smile dimmed a few watts. ‘You.’
‘Okay.’ I waited another couple of seconds, but he didn’t elaborate. ‘Why?’
‘For the meeting.’
‘The meeting?’
‘Didn’t Jane tell you? Her daughter’s just had emergency surgery, so I volunteered to step in. She said she’d let you know.’
‘Okay. I don’t know who Jane is, or what the meeting is about.’
‘Jane Burrows. From Good Dogs UK. She was meeting you to talk about bringing some of the training dogs in for a session.’ He pulled out his phone, face creasing in a frown. ‘It was definitely today. One-thirty, 26 May. Although I am a few minutes early.’
I checked the calendar on my own phone, although I already knew the meeting was next week. ‘I’ve got next Thursday booked in,’ I said, gently. ‘At half past three.’
He stared at his phone for a long moment. ‘Right. My mistake.’
‘Maybe not?’ I suggested. ‘Perhaps she told you the wrong day, if she was feeling worried about her daughter.’
He clicked through his phone. ‘No. She sent me the right date. I must have copied it into my calendar wrong.’
‘Okay, well these things happen to all of us.’
He looked at me from underneath his eyebrows, showing me without malice the sensitivity of that comment.
‘Yeah. I know they happen to you more than most.’ I gave his side a playful nudge. ‘No need to go on about it.’
‘Shall I come back on the second?’ he asked, his smile ruefully acknowledging my attempt at lightening the mood.
‘If you’re sure? It’s the special Jubilee bank holiday. The Barn will be open and Jane was happy to pop in then, as she was going to be at a local dog show, but don’t feel you have to.’
