‘What’s going on?’ Kalani asked. ‘And don’t fob us off with the “artist at work” excuse. We’ve seen you after a week of long days in the studio and you still light the room up.’
‘Is this what this meal is about?’ Hattie turned to me, bristling beneath her exhaustion. ‘Bully Hattie into revealing her private medical information?’
I gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Sort of, yes.’
‘I already told you.’ Her glare swept across the rest of the table. ‘I already told her! I’m fifty-five. It’s the menopause. Sore joints, sleepless nights, exhausted days, brain fog. Bloated stomach so I’m not eating as much. Would you like to grill me on my dry vagina or horrible wind while we’re at it?’
‘The menopause can do all that?’ Deirdre’s expression was simultaneously doubtful and appalled.
‘Laurie?’ Hattie turned to the only one of us likely to know for themselves.
‘Have you forgotten my hot flushes?’ Laurie winced at the memory. ‘Or the time a customer mentioned that the croissants looked a bit dry and I threw one at his head? Hattie, why on earth haven’t you got yourself to the doctor? I’d be in prison by now if I didn’t have HRT.’
‘I did. She prescribed me some patches and I’m already starting to feel better. But she warned me it could take a few months.’
‘You’re what, fifty-five, though?’ Laurie mused. ‘Pretty late for such drastic symptoms to be starting.’
Hattie shrugged. ‘That’s the joy of the menopause, isn’t it? Does what it likes, when it likes, and it’s anyone’s guess what it’ll do next.’
‘Ain’t that the truth?’ Laurie nodded, glumly, before taking a large bite of a spring roll.
‘If things don’t improve, make sure you go back and speak to her, won’t you?’ Deirdre said, eyebrows furrowing. ‘I don’t think it’s normal to be that bad.’
‘Nothing about this is normal,’ Hattie said, pulling a face. ‘Anyway, enough ambushing me and my hormonal horrors. Why are we eating this takeaway here, and not at your house, Kalani? What happened to inviting us over at last?’
Kalani shifted in her seat. ‘I’m working on it. I wanted to get some new sofa covers before having anyone round.’
‘Kalani, we’re the Gals!’ Laurie said, affronted. ‘We aren’t “anyone”.’
‘No, you’re four women who like to dance about with a gorgeous gal in one hand and a plate of greasy food in the other. Invitations will be sent out when I’m ready.’
‘It better be soon.’ Hattie nodded at me. ‘Sophie is ignoring everything she arted out last week about needing a permanent home and still insists she’s moving on as soon as the project is done.’
‘What?’ The others all looked at me, mouths dropping open. ‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’
‘That’s how my business works.’ I shrank back into my seat. ‘I have to move to wherever the next client is.’
‘Can’t you find a client close enough to commute each day?’ Laurie asked, face creased with consternation. ‘You said you wanted to come into a café and have the usual. I’ve ordered a latte mug with “Soph” on it for your lunches with Agnes.’
‘Commute from where?’ I swallowed back the ache clogging my throat at the thought of the mug. ‘I can’t park the motorhome just anywhere.’
‘You could move in with Kalani,’ Deirdre joked. ‘Once she’s got her sofa covers.’
‘Dogs will not be allowed on the sofas, at any point, ever,’ Kalani replied.
‘You’ll visit, though?’ Laurie asked. ‘You’re a Gal now.’
I took a deep breath. Felt my insides stiffen.
‘I’ve already promised Gideon that I’ll be back to visit.’
Well, that turned the conversation in a whole new direction.
‘Come on,’ I said, eventually, once we’d all laughed so hard that even Hattie’s face glowed. ‘Let’s go and do some art.’
* * *
‘Today, something a bit different.’ Hattie held out five Post-it notes, folded in half. ‘Instead of creating something for ourselves, we are focussing on each other. Pick a name, find a table, and start thinking about that woman, because you’re going to be making them something really special.’
