ignoring the hovering waitress, anxious to relegate them to the cloakroom. Underneath she wears a grey trouser suit, the jacket straining over the bust. Her cheeks have a ruddy glow untempered by make-up.
There’s a dip in the corner of her mouth that might be disapproval. Or disdain. She slings her things over the back of the chair and sits with a heavy sigh, leaning on the table and pressing the heel of her hands into her eyes.
‘Glad you could make it.’ I offer her a welcoming smile.
Rachel sniffs. ‘I couldn’t find it. I went round the block twice – in the end I had to go in and ask at the pizza place on the corner.’ She nods across at the plate-glass entrance to the restaurant. ‘Would it kill them to put up a sign? Or is that too unhip?’
She turns back and stares at the bamboo thicket a few feet away from us. ‘What’s today’s special? Panda steaks?’
‘We could go back to the pizza restaurant if you prefer.’
Her cheeks grow redder and she shakes her head. She picks up her menu and scans through the options. Another twitch of the mouth as she notes the prices.
‘It’s my treat,’ I insist.
She chews her lip. Doesn’t argue.
The waitress glides over. I order a glass of Prosecco then look at Rachel. ‘San Pellegrino.’
‘Prosecco for me too,’ she tells the waitress, then sees me frowning and laughs.
‘It’s OK. I’ve stopped breastfeeding. Finally.’
Her phone bleeps from somewhere in her bag. She retrieves it and reads the message. Starts to text something back.
I glance around as I wait for her to finish. A man over by the bar catches my eye and smiles. I check him out briefly. Tall, slim build, but not really my type. I turn back to Rachel, who’s stashing her mobile away again, lips pursed in apology.
‘Sorry, just checking in with Tim.’
She squints at the other diners, running a self-conscious hand over her wind-blown hair.
‘So, how did it go?’ I prompt.
‘It nearly didn’t go at all. Therese has got a cold and couldn’t go to nursery, and by the time Tim arranged to work from home, I’d missed the train. I barely made the meeting.’
‘And?’
Rachel shrugs. ‘It went OK.’
‘You sure? You don’t sound very certain.’
‘Oh, they want me back all right. Even offered me more money.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
She groans. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to go back to work – I’m more than ready to do something other than trail after the kids all day. It’s just that I’m not sure I want to go back there .’
Rachel went into employment law thinking it would be a quiet backwater after the cut and thrust of the bar. Little realizing that hell hath no fury like an employee scorned.
‘But the money’s good,’ she sighs. ‘We need a bigger house now Theo’s growing up – they can’t share a room for ever, and you know Tim’s job is always hanging in the balance.’ She scratches the tip of her nose. ‘They made a second bloke in his department redundant last week.’
I give her a sympathetic look and for the first time since she arrived her features relax into a smile. The waitress returns with the wine and takes our order. Rachel seizes her glass, swallowing almost half in one go, then grunts in appreciation.
‘Christ, I’ve been dying for a drink for nearly three years.’
I eye the inch or so left. ‘I’ll get you another.’
‘Better not.’ She puts her glass back down. ‘It’ll go straight to my head, and I must catch the eight-thirty train.’
I dig my teeth into my lips, trying to hide my disappointment. I’d been hoping Rachel would keep the whole evening free – I can’t remember the last time we got to hang out together. But I know she’s making an effort as it is.
‘So, how’s things?’ She sits back, scrutinizes my face.
‘Fine. Good.’
Rachel stares at me a bit longer, then down at the tablecloth. I can see she’s struggling for something neutral to say. She loses the fight. ‘You’re
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