‘I know architects like make buildings and stuff, but is that like your day to day?’
‘The emails or the “making buildings”?’ she says, adding finger air quotes.
‘That’s a perfectly normal way to describe it.’
‘I think the word you’re looking for is “design”,’ she says, with a little smirk. ‘There are lots of meetings and too much chatting up of stakeholders. Occasionally, I actually get to draw something which is nice.’
‘And you like the drawing bit more?’
‘And I like the drawing bit more.’
‘Why are jobs never what you expect them to be?’
‘Something-something capitalism?’
Haf hands this one over, and glass three slips a little in her sudsy hands, but she catches it without incident, thank goodness.
This is going okay, she thinks. A little bit of joking, a little getting to know each other better. She mentally runs through the list of questions she has in her head at all times for small talk to keep them on safe topics. Facts, not feelings. Anything that stops her from thinking about how close they are, and how much she would like to bridge the remaining distance.
‘Do you have a lot of plans for the holidays? Seeing school friends or anything?’
Kit wrinkles her nose. ‘I suspect Esther is going to rope me into getting things finished for the Christmas fête tomorrow. There’s always a set of tasks she’s set aside just for me that she’ll surprise me with on the morning of.’
‘What’s the Christmas fête?’
‘Christ,’ Kit says, in a perfect imitation of Christopher, ‘has my brother told you anything? He’s absolutely useless.’
‘I think it’s a man thing.’ Haf hands the clean glass to Kit, and takes another, which still has a ring of red wine in the bottom of it. She realises it must be hers, because there’s also a slop of it down the outside.
‘Wouldn’t know,’ scoffs Kit.
‘Is it a big thing? The fête, I mean.’
‘Oh yeah, quite big. A highlight of the Oxlea social calendar,’ she says, affecting a posh voice. ‘It’s a charity event, usually raising money for supplies for the local primary school.’
‘Your old school?’
Kit laughs. ‘You’d think, but no. Esther sent us both off to private school all the way through, but this is an opportunity for her to “give back to the community”.’
‘You sound a little cynical about it all.’
‘Only a smidge. Anyway, yes, it’s a big deal with the mayor and all the school governors, and the local politicians usually show up, stuff like that. Esther organises it and, to be fair to her, it’s always pretty good. I’ll be at Laurel’s quite a bit; I don’t get to see her as much as I’d like when I’m working.’
‘Have you guys been friends a long time?’
‘Oh yeah, since we were tiny. I think Esther was quite keen on bringing the Howard and Calloway families together, if you know what I mean. If I’d been a boy, they probably would have married me off to her. Or if Laurel wasn’t the straightest woman in the world, bless her.’
Kit finishes buffing the third glass and starts work on the fourth.
‘There’s the Howard family do as well, but that’s about everything in terms of formal events. All the grandparents are elsewhere this year. Nonno is staying in Italy with my cousins. Granny and Grandpa, that’s Esther’s parents, have gone up to Scotland on a fancy holiday.’
‘My parents too,’ Haf says, ‘but they picked Madeira.’
‘Probably a better idea. Much warmer, at least. And the wine.’
The fifth glass is unarguably clean. Especially because Haf has been pretending to scrub at a stain that isn’t there, like a hornyLady Macbeth wanting to prolong the moment. It feels like a truce, like they’ve found a comfortable middle ground together.
Maybe everything will be okay if they just stay here at the sink, engaged in polite conversation, washing wine glasses.
