Dinner at Mine (31 page)

‘Fine,’ he said flatly. ‘It’s been quite a busy week at work, you know, but I think I’ve got it all under control.’

‘Great!’ Rosie said a little too loudly. ‘And what are you working on at the moment?’

‘It’s the same project in Malawi. We’re sending our recommendations out to stakeholder review.’

‘That sounds fascinating,’ Rosie said.

‘The problem is dependency, you see . . .’ Justin faltered as he heard the doorbell ring. ‘Er, what we’re trying to do . . .’

There were footsteps and whispered voices out in the hall.

Justin froze, poised above the sofa. ‘What we . . .’ His train of thought ground to a halt.

‘What you’re trying to do . . .’ Rosie prompted.

He stared at the door, waiting.

Matt stopped a couple of strides into the room and Barbara stepped out from behind him. They stood close to each other, facing Justin, their faces solemn but expressionless, like policemen come
to deliver bad news.

Justin stopped blinking. He stared at them with an intensity that unnerved Rosie. No one spoke.

Rosie watched them, helpless. There were few situations, in her view, that couldn’t be smoothed over with polite conversation. This was one of them.

Several seconds passed. Stephen took another Scotch egg and tried to chew it as quietly as he could.

Where was Marcus? This was his responsibility. He’d have to lose marks for this, Rosie thought. How long had they been standing there? It seemed like hours. It was probably about five
seconds.

Eventually Matt spoke. ‘Hello, Rosie,’ he nodded. ‘Stephen. Justin.’

Rosie and Stephen said hello. Justin did not.

Rosie wanted to go and greet them properly, but felt that to walk over to their side of the room now would count as some kind of statement. The conversation did not progress.

In the hall, the doorbell went again. Rosie almost sighed out loud with relief. Charlotte. Charlotte would get things going again. Charlotte was not someone to let other people’s
embarrassment put her off. Thank God they’d invited her.

Matt and Barbara moved away from the door together, retreating backwards towards the far left wall.

‘Charlotte! Hi!’ Rosie cried.

Charlotte’s eyes scanned the room, fixing with determined hostility on Matt and Barbara. She stepped to the right of the room, creating a three-cornered staring match. Rosie felt the
atmosphere of the room change again.

The silence was entrenched beyond any hope of conversation now. Rosie remained frozen. She didn’t understand what was going on. What were you supposed to do in a situation like this? What
could you possibly say?

Marcus appeared in the doorway. ‘Do you want to come through?’ he said. ‘The asparagus is ready.’

Look at them. Charlotte stared across the table. Clinging together like that. Making sure they sat next to each other. Like it’s the first day of primary school and
they’re terrified someone’s going to steal their dinner money.

Matt and Barbara had sat down on the far side of the table. Charlotte took the place directly opposite Matt, forcing him to look away. Barbara gazed down at her David Mellor cutlery.

It was pathetic, really. They couldn’t even look her in the eye. Good. Let them squirm. Charlotte kept staring across the table. Barbara probably didn’t even know, did she? She
probably just drifted through life, thinking that because she was beautiful she could do whatever the fuck she liked. For some reason, that mostly involved pots. And now walking out on her
boyfriend just because some sleazebag asked nicely.

But it wasn’t really her fault. She was obviously a little bit dim and couldn’t be blamed for that. Normally, looking like she did, there was probably no reason for her to worry
about it.

No, it was Matt who was the wanker. Charlotte wasn’t upset. What was there to be upset about? Some boring northern git she had never really fancied anyway had found a new squeeze. Well,
fine. Who the hell cared?

She’d had to come tonight. She couldn’t not, in the circumstances. She couldn’t chicken out and have him thinking she was sitting at home, sobbing herself to sleep. Because she
wasn’t. She was just irritated, that was all. That’s all he was: an irritant. A pebble in her shoe. It was important that he realized that.

He still wasn’t looking at her.

Justin took the place next to Charlotte. The table wasn’t really big enough for them all, and he was squashed in far too close. Charlotte planted her elbow firmly on the table to mark her
territory, forcing him to shift further towards Rosie.

Perhaps she should be a bit more sympathetic, considering. He had just lost his girlfriend, in the most humiliating way you could think of. But no, fuck it, he was still Justin.

Sarah came round putting plates in front of them.

‘Asparagus – what a lovely treat!’ Rosie said. ‘I thought it was still far too early in the year.’

‘No,’ Marcus replied. ‘It isn’t.’

‘Really? But it’s not May yet. Still, I suppose some of the air-freighted ones aren’t bad these days. What are they Spanish? Peruvian?’

‘They’re English.’

‘Really?’ She sounded amazed. ‘Well, you’ll have to tell me where you get them so early.’

‘From the local greengrocer’s.’

‘They must be terribly efficient.’

‘They are.’

Charlotte bit the heads off a couple of stalks. They were fine. She wasn’t much of an asparagus fan, and never enjoyed more than a couple of bites of the plump, fibrous tubes. She used
them to mop up some of the spicy sauce – also fine – and put down her fork, impatient for some proper food.

‘What is the sauce?’ Rosie asked.

‘It’s a romesco,’ Marcus said. ‘A Spanish recipe of peppers, almonds, pine nuts and garlic.’

‘Oh it’s very nice,’ Rosie said. ‘And I must say, a really inventive way of dealing with such early season asparagus.’

‘Thank you,’ Marcus said warily.

‘Of course, when you can get properly tasty, high-season asparagus, I much prefer to serve them plain, with just a bit of melted butter. Otherwise it’s very easy to overcomplicate
things, isn’t it?’

Marcus stood up sharply. ‘Has everyone finished?’ He started collecting the plates without waiting for an answer.

Charlotte watched Rosie trying to hold back a smile as she handed up her plate. Yes, OK, she’d pissed Marcus off. Charlotte could see why she would be pleased with that. But, you know
– being rude about someone’s asparagus? Really? Was this what things had come to? People should just make up their minds. Either you were pretending to be polite, or you should just
fucking go for it. Doubting the provenance of someone’s vegetables? What kind of pathetic middle ground was that?

Jesus, she’d had enough of this. These people. And where was the next course? She was starving now.

Marcus left the room with the plates. No one seemed to feel like saying anything. Charlotte worked her way through another glass of wine.

Eventually Sarah said: ‘It’s been so cold recently, hasn’t it?’

‘Very cold,’ Rosie agreed.

‘Whatever happened to spring?’

‘It’s late this year.’

There was a pause.

‘Usually, by this time of year, we’ve had some beautiful sunny days,’ Sarah said.

‘Not this year.’

‘No.’

Sarah tapped the tabletop a couple of times with her index finger. ‘They said on the news that it should be warmer next week.’

‘That would be nice.’

‘Yes.’ Sarah nodded. ‘It feels like such a long time since it was summer.’

The room lapsed into silence. Soon, Marcus came back with plates. Rosie asked if she could help. Marcus told her to sit down.

Charlotte peered at the absurdly gussied-up bit of meat on toast in front of her.

‘Devilled Kidneys on Brioche,’ Marcus announced.

Jesus. She looked at Justin’s plate, on which a selection of chopped vegetables had taken the place of the kidneys. At least she wasn’t having that.

As they all silently began to chew, Sarah made another attempt at conversation.

‘So,’ she said breezily. ‘What has everyone been doing today? Anyone been up to anything exciting?’

‘I was out shopping today,’ Charlotte began.

‘Oh yes,’ Sarah responded brightly.

‘Looking for a new dress . . .’

‘Lovely!’

‘For a friend’s wedding.’

‘Oh yes?’ Sarah’s enthusiasm faltered very slightly.

‘It’s the season, isn’t it?’ Rosie agreed.

‘That’s right,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’ve got one next week, then they start coming thick and fast.’

‘A couple of years ago was the peak for us,’ Rosie said. ‘We had one every other week that summer.’

‘I’ve got that this year,’ Charlotte said. ‘Everyone seems to be settling down, don’t they?’

Rosie did not reply immediately to this.

Charlotte speared a bit of kidney. No one seemed to want to meet her eye. They were all staring at their plates, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the food. Charlotte was rather
pleased with the effect. Sod it, why not? Why shouldn’t she get a bit of her own back? Watch and learn, Rosie.

‘What about you guys?’ she asked. ‘Any of you got any decent weddings coming up? Marcus and Sarah?’

‘No, nothing,’ Sarah said quickly.

‘What, not even your own? When are you two going to get round to it?’ Charlotte grinned playfully across the table. ‘Come on, Marcus, what’s the hold up? She’s not
going to hang around for ever, you know.’

Marcus bared his teeth and ate a piece of kidney.

‘You shouldn’t let him get away with it, Sarah,’ Charlotte chided. ‘Tell him to get a move on.’

‘It’s not important,’ Sarah mumbled.

Charlotte let this hang.

Rosie jumped in to help her friend.

‘Weddings these days are so expensive, though, aren’t they?’ she said. ‘Not just for the people getting married, either. You’ve got the hen night – a whole
weekend, sometimes – and then you’ve got to go to a country house somewhere. Often it’s a relief not to have to go to too many, isn’t it?’

Charlotte hadn’t really meant to hit such a raw nerve. She had no particular reason to dislike Sarah, and didn’t want her to think she was being picked on. So Charlotte needed to hit
her real target. It was only fair.

‘Does anyone find—?’ Rosie was saying.

‘Matt?’ Charlotte interrupted. ‘Barbara? What about you? Any weddings this summer?’

‘Not for me,’ Matt said.

Look at him. Shaking his head and smiling like that. Acting all casual, like he’s having a nice chat. But he’s not enjoying this. He’s not enjoying this at all. You can tell by
his eyes.

‘Barbara? What about you?’

Barbara was gazing at her plate. Salad on toast. So she’d gone back to the veggies, had she? How disappointing.

‘Barbara? Any weddings?’ Charlotte watched the top of her head.

‘No,’ she said quietly, still staring downwards.

Justin looked up in wounded surprise.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you coming to Samina’s, then?’

Barbara retreated further towards her meal.

‘She’ll be very disappointed if you don’t.’ Justin sounded hurt.

‘I don’t know. Maybe,’ Barbara whispered. ‘Let’s talk about it later.’

‘You don’t have to sit with me if you don’t want to. But I don’t think you should let down your friend.’

Charlotte didn’t need to say anything. She took a long, satisfying draught of wine. The table was dead. Had she gone too far? Justin didn’t really deserve it, however annoying he
was. But look at Matt! He had the face of someone who’s just realized he’s run over a puppy and is wondering whether anyone has noticed. Well, Charlotte wasn’t going to let him
get away with hiding the body in the recycling bin. He needed to take some responsibility.

‘Matt, you could go with her!’ Charlotte exclaimed, as if she had just cracked a difficult detective mystery.

‘Mmm,’ he said.

‘That would be a nice friendly thing to do. You wouldn’t want Barbara to miss her friend getting married, would you?’

He thought he could get away with not answering this. He smiled quickly and picked up his fork. But Charlotte didn’t want him to escape. The others were just collateral damage.

‘Would you?’ she pressed.

‘No,’ he said.

‘But Samina might not have space for you,’ Justin protested. ‘You can’t just invite yourself.’

‘Quite right, Justin. It’s very rude of him, isn’t it?’ Charlotte said. ‘You’ll have to ask Samina, Matt. Will you do that?’

Matt glared at her. It tasted better than anything she’d eaten all night.

‘Of course, if it came to it, you could always go instead of Justin,’ she said. ‘Justin wouldn’t mind, would you, Justin? After all, Matt’s getting used to taking
your place.’

Sarah jumped to her feet.

‘Has everybody finished?’

‘No, they haven’t,’ Marcus said. ‘Stephen and Matt are still eating theirs, Barbara’s hardly started, and—’

‘I think this course is over, though, don’t you?’ Sarah said. ‘What did everybody think of that?’

Marcus looked expectantly round the silent table.

‘Oh yes,’ Rosie said. ‘Very daring.’

Charlotte surrendered her half-eaten kidney with the sense of a job well done. As an added bonus, Marcus, having failed to solicit any praise for the dish, went off to the kitchen in an obvious
huff.

Charlotte emptied her glass, feeling the wine settle easily on top of the afternoon’s vodka and rum. Next to her, Justin fiddled with his knife, turning it over and over between his
fingers with a strange look on his face.

Marcus came back into the dining room, propped the door open with his chair, and left again. A few seconds later he came steaming back in, carrying a huge salad dish criss-crossed with sliced
tentacles.

‘Octopus Salad with Dill and Caperberries,’ he announced.

He waited for appreciative murmurs. It was undeniably impressive, but Charlotte did her best not to let her face flicker.

Marcus reached behind himself like a surgeon gesturing for forceps, and Sarah handed him a set of salad tongs. Not without reluctance, he shattered the precise arrangement of octopus and began
serving.