‘Maybe he’s Dandy’s brother,’ Ant said. ‘Even if it was Dandy, we don’t want him back. Living in a cloud of cat hair was not my thing.’
‘Ant!’ I protested.
‘Well, it’s true,’ he said. ‘Used to drive me crazy.’
‘Oh, I know what you mean,’ Amy said. ‘The fur is annoying, but we love him, don’t we? And these tabbies do all look the same. But we’ve had Riley since he was a kitten, haven’t we, Joe?’
‘Um,’ Joe said, nodding, I thought, unconvincingly.
I stroked Riley one more time and, making an effort to tell myself that he looked happy, whoever’s cat he was, I crossed to the bay window.
There was a huge bowl made of gobstopper marbles invisibly stuck together and an enormous teardrop planter suspended from the ceiling. Both were glinting in the sunlight next to the hefty jade Buddha. ‘I love this,’ I said, caressing the dish. ‘And the Buddha’s gorgeous.’
‘A gift from Joe’s dad,’ Amy said. ‘It’s from Thailand, apparently. It’s supposed to bring good luck.’
Joe made his excuses then and slipped upstairs to change while Amy led the way through to the kitchen, which was even prettier. It had white tongue-and-groove walls, and cupboards with grey slatted doors that looked like French shutters; a vast white marble-topped island in the middle, and more unvarnished plank shelves on the walls. The whole place seemed to shimmer, which was something to do with the halogen lighting and all the glassware Amy had dotted around the place. We’d had our own kitchen replaced when we moved in and I couldn’t help but think that the ultra-safe gloss grey units we’d chosen said more about our lack of imagination than words ever could. I looked down at my blue dress, mentally comparing it with Amy’s outfit, and decided it demonstrated a similar failure of imagination.
Three covered saucepans were simmering on the range and a perfume of coconut and curry floated in the air. ‘Something smells good,’ I said. Ant, who didn’t much like spicy food, raised an eyebrow by way of reply.
We sat on vintage iron bar stools at the central island and Amy asked us what we wanted to drink. It was then that I realised I’d forgotten the wine. ‘I’m so, so, sorry,’ I said, ‘but I left it chilling in the fridge.’
‘Fat lot of good it is there,’ Ant said. ‘I can’t believe that you forgot it.’
‘Um, we both forgot it,’ I said gently. ‘But I’m happy to nip back.’
‘It’s fine!’ Amy said. ‘Don’t be silly. We’ve got plenty of wine. Is that what you’d like? Wine, or beer, or I can do gin and tonics. I’ve got Prosecco in the fridge as well, and I’ve even got some of that weird . . .’ She peered into a cupboard and produced a bottle of some fluorescent red mixer. ‘I can do spritz, if you want.’
Ant caught my eye then and shook his head and rolled his eyes, silently berating me about the wine again. ‘I’ve offered to go and get it,’ I pointed out.
‘Really!’ Amy said. ‘Just stop before I get offended.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, though I wasn’t quite sure what I was apologising for.
‘So, wine, beer, Prosecco, spritz? I might have a spritz myself,’ Amy said.
‘Um, I’ll have a beer, if that’s OK,’ Ant said.
Joe appeared in the doorway. He was in jeans and a plaid shirt and was barefoot. His hair was still wet and he had a towel draped around his shoulders.
‘Jeans?’ Amy said. ‘Really?’
‘This is OK, isn’t it?’ Joe asked, for some reason addressing the question to me.
I nodded. ‘Totally fine with me,’ I said.
‘Honey,’ Amy said. ‘Make an effort, huh? We have guests.’
‘You don’t care, do you?’ Joe asked, now looking to Ant for reassurance.
‘Not at all, mate,’ Ant said.
‘I care,’ Amy said. ‘We’re all dressed up. Anthony’s put on a lovely suit, Heather – Heather? ’
I nodded.
‘Sorry, I had a doubt there for a moment,’ Amy continued. ‘Yes, Heather’s wearing a lovely evening dress . . . It’s called being polite.’
‘A suit?’ Joe asked. ‘Really?’
Amy gestured at Anthony as if to demonstrate that there was nothing ridiculous at all about wearing a suit.
‘He’s come from work, haven’t you?’ Joe said.
‘Um, yeah,’ Anthony lied. ‘Totally true.’
‘Just change,’ Amy said. ‘Humour me.’
‘Christ,’ Joe said. ‘Whatever.’
‘Honestly,’ Amy said, once he’d left. ‘He has all these lovely clothes, but all he ever wants to wear is jeans.’
‘I’ve never much liked jeans, myself,’ Ant said. Then, turning to me, he asked, ‘Have I?’
‘No,’ I agreed, feeling a bit sorry for poor Joe and a bit shocked at the way Amy bossed him around.
Amy poured some of the red mixer into her glass and then started to uncork the Prosecco. ‘Can I do that for you?’ Ant asked.
‘Thanks,’ Amy said, handing over the bottle and going to the refrigerator for Ant’s beer.
‘And you? What would you like?’ Amy asked me.
‘She’ll have Prosecco, won’t you?’ Ant said, and though I probably would have said that anyway, I hated him in that moment for replying for me.
Joe reappeared, looking a bit uncomfortable in a sleek navy suit over the top of the same plaid shirt as before. ‘Better?’ he asked, as he crossed to the stairs to pull a pair of white trainers from the cupboard.
‘Shoes might be good,’ Amy said, at which Joe raised the trainers and gave them a wiggle.
‘I said shoes,’ Amy said.
‘No one cares,’ Joe said, pulling the trainers on to his bare feet.
Amy stared at him for a moment. She froze, the beer bottle in her hand, and blinked very slowly, and for a minute I thought she was going to lose it. But then, as if what she’d actually done was press a reset button in her brain, she smiled instead, and asked Joe if he wanted Prosecco.
To ease the tension in the room, I said, ‘I just love what you’ve done with your kitchen. I think it’s one of the prettiest kitchens I’ve ever seen.’
‘The guy is a kitchen fitter,
