to see yours.”
Taking a sip of my wine, I glanced around the room. Alice had done a fabulous job with the decorating. She had a knack of knowing how to put bits and bobs together to make them look good. When I tried to reproduce her ideas, it ended up looking, well, like bits and bobs made by people with very poor decorating skills or a garage sale that hadn’t been packed away.
“When did you get the painting finished?”
“The other night while Ethan was in bed.”
“It looks fab. Did Jed give you a hand?”
“He was out.” Alice was facing the oven pulling a tray from middle rack, but I saw her body stiffen.
“Smells good. What’re we having?”
“Baked lemon snapper. The fish was on special at the supermarket. Oh, and salad things from the veggie garden. I cooked some potatoes too.”
She tipped a pile of teeny round new potatoes into a strainer and tossed them in a knob of butter, fresh parsley and ground rock salt. She served the fish and potato onto three plates, covered Jed’s with reused silver foil from the drawer and put it into the turned off oven to keep warm for later. Then she hopped up opposite me and took a huge swig from her wine glass before setting about cutting her fish.
“Boy, that goes down well. I’d had a shit of a day. I think Ethan’s teething. He whined the whole way to the shops and back.” She refilled her wineglass before stabbing a large portion of salad and shoving it into her mouth.
“He seemed okay for the few minutes I had him.”
“It’s those rusks. He adores them.” Her voice choked and I was positive I saw her blinking away a tear from the corner of my eye.
I put down my cutlery and swivelled to face Alice. She wasn’t herself. It wasn’t like her to become upset over a little thing like teething. Alice was always so calm and collected. That was one of the things I loved about her. When I was having a meltdown over how my life was panning out, Alice always had a solution. She was the voice in my head, the pragmatic, practical one.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Refusing to meet my eyes, Alice stuffed a baby potato into her mouth and swallowed it whole while poking at her fish and swearing because she couldn’t get it to stay on her fork. “How’s your fish?”
I went back to my dinner. “Yummy, thanks.”
“Is the salad okay?”
“Delicious.”
This was the most inane conversation ever. I wished she’d tell me whatever it was. I hated to see her upset.
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” I said.
“It’s nothing. I’m being silly. Shall we do dessert here? Or have a double dose with dessert in the lounge and McSteamy?”
Okay, so she was avoiding whatever it was. I could relate to that. Avoidance was my middle name. I decided to let it be. She’d tell me when she was ready.
“Is there a need to ask?”
We’d been watching the re-runs of Grey’s Anatomy for months now and had reached the last season. I wasn’t keen to see it end. It was our guilty pleasure, the one time we got to be two girls again, not grown women with responsibilities. And clearly, Alice was in need of forgetting her responsibilities tonight.
“I made fruit salad and there’s some low fat ice cream or yogurt. Want some?”
“A little bit. Please.”
“Cool.” Alice picked up our plates and scraped the remains into the bin. She refilled her wine for the third time and glugged it down. Then she plonked our desserts on a tray, took another bottle of wine from the pantry, picked the lot up and stomped off in the direction of the lounge.
Geez. She was in a bad way.
By the time I’d hobbled in, Alice seemed to have pulled herself together. She was scrolling through the recorded shows to find the episode we were after so I set myself up in a corner of the couch, leaning my crutches on the arm.
“I had a dream about McSteamy the other night.” She giggled, her finger poised on the play button. “It was so hot it woke me up. The things that man
Taking a sip of my wine, I glanced around the room. Alice had done a fabulous job with the decorating. She had a knack of knowing how to put bits and bobs together to make them look good. When I tried to reproduce her ideas, it ended up looking, well, like bits and bobs made by people with very poor decorating skills or a garage sale that hadn’t been packed away.
“When did you get the painting finished?”
“The other night while Ethan was in bed.”
“It looks fab. Did Jed give you a hand?”
“He was out.” Alice was facing the oven pulling a tray from middle rack, but I saw her body stiffen.
“Smells good. What’re we having?”
“Baked lemon snapper. The fish was on special at the supermarket. Oh, and salad things from the veggie garden. I cooked some potatoes too.”
She tipped a pile of teeny round new potatoes into a strainer and tossed them in a knob of butter, fresh parsley and ground rock salt. She served the fish and potato onto three plates, covered Jed’s with reused silver foil from the drawer and put it into the turned off oven to keep warm for later. Then she hopped up opposite me and took a huge swig from her wine glass before setting about cutting her fish.
“Boy, that goes down well. I’d had a shit of a day. I think Ethan’s teething. He whined the whole way to the shops and back.” She refilled her wineglass before stabbing a large portion of salad and shoving it into her mouth.
“He seemed okay for the few minutes I had him.”
“It’s those rusks. He adores them.” Her voice choked and I was positive I saw her blinking away a tear from the corner of my eye.
I put down my cutlery and swivelled to face Alice. She wasn’t herself. It wasn’t like her to become upset over a little thing like teething. Alice was always so calm and collected. That was one of the things I loved about her. When I was having a meltdown over how my life was panning out, Alice always had a solution. She was the voice in my head, the pragmatic, practical one.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Refusing to meet my eyes, Alice stuffed a baby potato into her mouth and swallowed it whole while poking at her fish and swearing because she couldn’t get it to stay on her fork. “How’s your fish?”
I went back to my dinner. “Yummy, thanks.”
“Is the salad okay?”
“Delicious.”
This was the most inane conversation ever. I wished she’d tell me whatever it was. I hated to see her upset.
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” I said.
“It’s nothing. I’m being silly. Shall we do dessert here? Or have a double dose with dessert in the lounge and McSteamy?”
Okay, so she was avoiding whatever it was. I could relate to that. Avoidance was my middle name. I decided to let it be. She’d tell me when she was ready.
“Is there a need to ask?”
We’d been watching the re-runs of Grey’s Anatomy for months now and had reached the last season. I wasn’t keen to see it end. It was our guilty pleasure, the one time we got to be two girls again, not grown women with responsibilities. And clearly, Alice was in need of forgetting her responsibilities tonight.
“I made fruit salad and there’s some low fat ice cream or yogurt. Want some?”
“A little bit. Please.”
“Cool.” Alice picked up our plates and scraped the remains into the bin. She refilled her wine for the third time and glugged it down. Then she plonked our desserts on a tray, took another bottle of wine from the pantry, picked the lot up and stomped off in the direction of the lounge.
Geez. She was in a bad way.
By the time I’d hobbled in, Alice seemed to have pulled herself together. She was scrolling through the recorded shows to find the episode we were after so I set myself up in a corner of the couch, leaning my crutches on the arm.
“I had a dream about McSteamy the other night.” She giggled, her finger poised on the play button. “It was so hot it woke me up. The things that man
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