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5

In Laura’s flat at Seaspray Cottage

Real ale and home truths

Friday

‘So how about you, Clemmie, what’s your story?’

When Charlie arrives back he’s trundling a double-decker hammered metal trolley along the balcony on super-chunky industrial wheels. As I help him ease it through the living room doors I see it’s laden with everything he promised and more, plus hand glazed plates and mugs, and scarily spare cutlery that’s so on trend and triangular it’s hard to tell which are knives and which are forks. There’s also serviettes, fruit juices, and a cluster of chilled beer bottles, pebbled with condensation. It takes approximately ten seconds to load up our plates. Then as he sits down he drops in the question, and I immediately fill my mouth and the next half hour with so much eating that I can’t possibly answer.

I catch glimpses of him over the top of my crusty bread as I chew, and it flashes through my head that if he were on Tinder, every woman out there would swipe ‘Yes’. Including me. Which is way more ridiculous than it sounds, because I’d never go on Tinder. And who knows why the hell the ‘sexy’ word keeps flashing through my brain when there isn’t a suit anywhere in sight today.

‘Anyway, Clemmie,’ he says eventually, ‘are you going to tell me where you fit in at Seaspray Cottage? Or are you just going to swim off into the ocean and make me think eating a ploughman’s lunch on a patchwork sofa with a mermaid was all a dream?’

‘Me?’ I grab my fourth beer, wrench the top off and glug. ‘What’s this I’m drinking?’

He peers at the bottle. ‘They’re a mix. That one’s local brewery, Roaring Waves’ answer to a German Pils. But watch out, they have a tendency to make your legs disappear without warning.’ The low noise in his throat could almost be a laugh. ‘Although you’re probably used to that sensation.’

I almost drop my bottle. ‘Are you implying I get drunk a lot?’ He’s not getting away with that.

He shakes his head and blinks. ‘No, just meaning the way your legs and your mermaid’s tail are interchangeable.’ There’s that almost-smile playing around his lips. ‘For a mermaid settling on land, you couldn’t have found many flats closer to the sea than this one. I can’t understand why you wouldn’t want to stay.’

Even if he’s not laughing outwardly his tone is mocking. ‘Come on, I didn’t take the piss when you turned up with your high-end boys’ toy lunch wheelie.’ That has to be the most macho item ever, I’m betting he grabbed it from Groupon. That or he found it down the harbour and it’s meant for trundling fish around. ‘And while we’re on the subject of toys and size, please tell me you aren’t going to set up one of those monster Australian-style barbie’s on the balcony?’

He gives a sniff. ‘For someone uninvested, you’re coming over as very territorial.’

I screw up my face, and take another gulp of my drink. Considering I’m not a beer person, it’s going down very fast. ‘It all comes down to the “settling” thing. The word actually makes me shiver, that’s just how I’m wired. From the way I feel now, I’m guessing I’m destined to swim around the world forever.’

He pulls down the corners of his mouth as he gets up and strides towards the door. ‘How about cake to soak up the alcohol? I’ll see what I’ve got next door.’

I’m psyching myself up for a second feast on wheels, but when he comes back in he’s only carrying a plate. ‘No sweet trolley then?’

He gives a guilty shrug. ‘If there’s cake in the flat, I eat it. Two measly bits of chocolate brownie is all I could find. Sorry they’re so tiny.’

‘Small, but delicious.’ It must be the beer making me gush even though I’m trying to stick to understatement. The square I’m sinking my teeth into is dark, sticky and so delectably chocolatey it clogs my throat. And small is taking a man-sized view. I wave the remains of my pretty massive slice in the air as I struggle to talk through the cocoa haze. ‘It’s such a shame there’s no such thing as cake take-aways with home delivery. I’d always rather ring for gateaux than pizza.’

He narrows his eyes. ‘Gateaux in Cornwall? You’ll be lucky.’

‘Sorry, I’m mixing up my languages again.’ And coming across like an arse. ‘I just flew in from France.’ And now I’m sounding even worse.

His eyebrows lift. ‘Anywhere nice?’ At least he seems to be overlooking the pretentious prat part.

I try to play it down. ‘Only Paris.’

‘Quite a landlocked place for a mermaid.’ He sends me a sideways glance. ‘But, honestly, I can see why you’d rather be there than here.’

I smile at the recognition. ‘I make do with the rain instead of the sea. There’s nothing quite like wet city pavements shining with reflections from the street lights and the traffic. As soon as my job restarts I’ll be back there and loving it.’ I hesitate for a moment. ‘Gateaux and all.’

His frown is thoughtful. ‘In which case, maybe it’s a good time to mention – if ever you want to sell the flat, Diesel would love some extra space to expand into. Obviously, I’d be offering you a top price.’

As he hears his name Diesel’s tail thumps on the sofa cushions. It’s as if he’s adding his weight to what Charlie just said, while I’m struggling to believe what I just heard. I’m taking a breath, gathering my words to reply. If he was anyone else it would have to be ‘yes’ a thousand times over, for every reason. Let’s face it, before he turned up I’d just spent a full half-hour freaking out at the thought of an electricity bill so I’m not quite sure why my stomach feels like a popped balloon as I look out at the frill of the waves running up the beach. And then suddenly I get it.

‘So this explains it. You send your dog to eat my sandwich, so you can offer me lunch and muscle in on buying my flat?’ My voice is high with indignation. What’s more, I’m furious for allowing myself to eye him up when what he was really here for was to get his hands on Laura’s property.

He screws up his face. ‘Really, Clemmie, that’s not what happened.’

I let out a snort. ‘Fill me with beer then push through another of your deals? That’s low, even for lowlife like you.’

There’s a flash of pain in his eyes, then he takes a deep breath. ‘There was no pressure, I was simply trying to be helpful if that was what you wanted.’

‘Helpful my arse. That was pure opportunism.’ I’m not even sure it’s the right word. Worse still, I’ve got this sinking feeling I’m probably shooting myself in the foot here. But there’s something about the bare faced gall of the man that’s made me so angry. If he was the last punter in the world, at this moment I wouldn’t sell to him.

‘If you choose to see it that way, that’s your problem.’ He’s not even bothering to defend himself.

To reclaim some dignity, I go back to my best clipped office tones. ‘If there’s a sale, George will handle it, I’m sure you’ll be the first to know.’

He shakes his head. ‘We’ve already discussed how sharing George is.’ He just gives yet another sigh and carries on. ‘As I said before, the building needs work. We’ve got extensive roof repairs scheduled for autumn.’

I’m not sure why he’s telling me this now. ‘Great, I’ll cross my fingers it stays fine for you. Let’s hope you don’t get too much of that rain I was talking about earlier.’ I take another swig of beer. My excuse to myself for accepting lunch was to get information, and this far, apart from an offer to buy the flat which floored me, I’ve got approximately zilch. ‘Remind me who’s in the other flats?’

Charlie’s reply is fast and businesslike. ‘Two are let to short-term tenants, and two are let out through Airbnb to holiday makers.’

I’m frowning, tapping the bottle on my teeth, still not getting it. ‘All good. So, your point is?’

‘There’s not a lot left in your peppercorn rent pot after the balcony repairs. And the cost of the roof will be shared between all the flat owners.’ He’s drumming his fingers on the chair arm now. ‘So if you did plan to stay, I’m simply flagging up that you’ll need to find ten grand before the autumn.’

I gasp so hard I almost swallow the bottle as well as my next gulp of beer. ‘Ten grand?’ My bank account’s never seen that many noughts. As far as my finances go, I earn enough to get by, put a little aside, then I travel. Then I stop and work again. It’s called living in the moment, and this far, give or take a bit of juggling, it’s always worked out fine.

Charlie nods. ‘It’s not a huge amount, but you might need to dip into your capital.’ He’s talking like I’m loaded, and staring like I’m not keeping up. Which, to be fair, is right. ‘Capital, meaning your savings?’

The second he starts talking English again the penny drops. ‘Ah, those.’ Right now, I’ve probably got a couple of hundred to tide me over for when I move on from Paris. ‘Of course.’ It’s strangely levelling. One minute I’m struggling because I’ve got so many choices of what to do with the flat and I don’t know how to handle it. The next I’m fighting to keep it away from Charlie. Then I’m back to way worse – there is no choice, because the only option I can afford is to let it go. Except now I feel like I’ve had something huge taken away from me. Which I know is a ridiculous way to feel, when only a couple of days ago I wasn’t even going to bother to visit the place.

Charlie’s face gets the closest to a smile I’ve seen today. ‘My point is, you’ll have plenty of savings if a sale goes through. Subject to tax liability, obviously.’ Yet another downside to entertaining a ‘decorative developer’ in your living room. If he carries on like this, we’ll be onto mortgages in no time.

I’m about to put my hands over my ears when there’s a clatter out on the landing.

‘Clemmie, we’re early … we brought bubbly …’ As the door pushes open, there’s a hollow boom, and a cork shoots past my nose.

6

In Laura’s flat at Seaspray Cottage

Cotton wool and feisty talk

Friday

As Charlie dashes off along the balcony, insistent on going for ‘proper’ champagne glasses, it only takes one half-raised eyebrow from Nell before Diesel’s slinking down from the sofa and turning circles on a rug. Sophie settles Milla and Maisie into his place, then flops down beside them herself

I’m counting on my fingers as I snaffle one of Milla’s banana chips. ‘Aren’t you two short here, Soph?’

‘Nate’s taken Marco and Matilde.’ She sneaks a look at her phone. ‘Let’s see, they’ve got Water Polo, then they’re going on to Spanish for Smalls and taster Tinies’ Yoga.’ Seeing these two have barely hit nursery, her ‘what the heck’ expression is probably entirely justified. ‘So how’s it going here?’

Nell’s staring at me in awe. ‘Swimmingly, I’d say. You didn’t mess about, Clemmie.’

I pull a face. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’ Claiming ‘the dog ate my sandwich’ is too close to those lame excuses for lost homework. I try another tack. ‘Charlie happens to live next door, he dropped round with lunch and an offer to buy the flat.’

‘How lucky is that?’ Nell asks.

Sophie’s less impressed. ‘What the eff does he think he’s playing at?’ She looks like she’s about to explode.

I give a shrug. ‘You can ask him yourself, he’s here with his flutes as we speak.’ As I take the slender glasses from him and put them on the table I’m telling it like it is. ‘There can’t be many neighbours in St Aidan who will wheel in lunch and be happy to share their crystal, then try to buy your home before you’ve even had chance to move in.’ We might as well bring this into the open.

Sophie flashes him a disgusted glance then fixes him with one of those stares of hers that bore right through you. ‘So, are you going to explain yourself, Charlie?’

His gaze flicks over all of us. ‘Now might not be the best time. I’ll leave you to drink your fizz in peace. Things to do, places to be, and all that.’

‘I bet you bloody have.’ Sophie growls as he trundles the trolley towards the door and calls Diesel.

Plum peeps into the kitchen, then comes over to pour. ‘The flat’s as much of a gem as Sophie told us. Small, yet perfectly formed.’

Nell narrows her eyes as she passes round the fizz. ‘As said by the woman who has an entire chandlery to rattle around in. It couldn’t be more cosy, but five of us just arrived and you can barely tell we’re here.’ A grin spreads across her face between sips. ‘It would be fab for more intimate singles’ evenings.’ Since she’s taken charge of the club, Nell sees every venue, public or private, in terms of its party potential.

Plum sniffs. ‘Probably why Mr Hobnob Holdings can’t wait to get his hands on it. No doubt he’d want to rip the guts out of the place.’

‘Ewww.’ The thought of workmen with sledgehammers smashing Laura’s lovely coloured walls makes me wince. Although it might have been a less dramatic reaction if I’d had more food and less beer. That’s the trouble with lunchtime drinking. It makes me so thirsty my fizz barely touches the sides before it’s gone.

Sophie’s eyes flash. ‘It doesn’t have to be like that, Clemmie. You don’t have to accept.’

I sigh. ‘I damn well won’t sell to him, but I might have to sell to someone. He’s explained the situation. If I keep the flat I need to find a bomb to fund joint repairs.’

Nell cocks her head. ‘Exactly what size incendiary device are we talking here?’ The accountant in her always insists on the price down to the last penny.

I hesitate and lean forward for a refill. ‘Ten grand by September. Maybe more.’ That thought is enough for me to down my next glass too.

‘Shit.’ Plum lets out a whistle. ‘In that case you’re probably stuffed.’ It’s not mean, she’s simply taking a realistic view of my finances. She understands because she stretched to the limit and then some to get the gallery going.

Sophie shakes her head. ‘Not so fast. You and Plum might not be best friends with your bank managers, but Nell and I are better placed.’ Her multi-million turnover can blind her to what real life’s like for the rest of us.

Nell looks thoughtful. ‘We could tide you over?’

I blow in frustration. ‘It’s awesome of you to offer, but even if I wanted to keep the flat, I couldn’t accept. I’d have no hope of paying back a loan that big on what I earn.’

‘Can your mum help?’ Plum knows we’re on shaky ground here.

I pull a face. ‘When Mum and Harry laughingly call their trip the “Spend the Inheritance Tour” it’s not a joke. They’re volunteering, but it’s the kind you pay for.’ My mum was always sensitive about me getting this place, but at least it gave her the green light to enjoy her savings. They plan to spend the lot while they’re fit enough, see the countries she never got to because I came along. ‘This is the last place I’d ask them to change their plans for.’

Nell pulls a face. ‘Leave it with us. If there’s a way to keep you here, we’ll think of it.’

I’m biting my thumbnail as I agonise, because I don’t want to lead them on. ‘I probably do want to sell, because I can’t think how the hell things would work otherwise. But it would be nice to have a choice.’ I can’t remember being anywhere that made me feel so instantly secure and comfortable. I know I’ll always be a wanderer, but it would still be amazing to keep this place as a safe haven. Although that’s probably not a luxury my empty bank account will run to.

Sophie lets out a snort. ‘You can’t be backed into a corner by a man with a hostess trolley, even if he does have beautiful glasses.’ She holds her flute up to the light, then finishes the half-inch of fizz she accepted. ‘So are we going to make a move? I’m taking this lot home for supper, if you’re hungry?’

Nell grins. ‘Or even better, come with Plum and I on the Singles’ All the Sixes evening. That’s six bars in six hours.’

After so many bottles of real ale I can’t think of anything worse. ‘Since when did you want a boyfriend, Plum?’ We’ve always been the two who are entirely happy on our own.

She laughs. ‘Definitely not looking for one of those, but Nell’s pub crawls are too good to miss.’

As I stand up and stretch, my head feels like it’s filled with cotton wool. ‘I’d barely begun to look around when Diesel and Charlie arrived. Maybe I should stay here tonight.’ Note to self: getting pissed in the afternoon and ending up a prisoner in the attic is off-the-scale bad. But at least this way I avoid staggering down two flights of stairs when my legs feel like they belong to someone else, and I get out of a night out with the dreaded Singles’ Club. That’s a result all round. Although I have to admit my half-drunken self is feeling a sudden pang for what I’m about to give up here. ‘Make the most of it while I can, and all that?’

Nell frowns at me. ‘For one time only, we’ll let you off the singles’ event. So long as you have us all round for brunch tomorrow.’

Plum’s staring out of the doors to the balcony. ‘Good idea. I’m missing this view already and I haven’t left yet.’

Sophie’s on her feet. ‘I know exactly what you mean, Plum. It’s the kind of place that makes you want to come back again and again. Way too good for Charlie Hobnob.’ She’s scooping up Maisie from the sofa. ‘We’ll bring the food, Clemmie, be ready. Brainstorming begins at eleven sharp tomorrow. This is one fight I promise we’ll win.’

So, it’s official. We’re going into battle. That’s Sophie all over. But right now, all I can think of is making my way to the pink haven of the bedroom, and crawling under the quilt.

7

In the flat at Seaspray Cottage

Ice cubes and cold feet

Saturday

I’m standing on the balcony next morning, breathing in the sharp salty air, watching the figures along the water’s edge and the sand clouds whipping up the beach. It turns out ten minutes of having your face blown off is a great way to wake up even if it makes your hair go wild. I’m just about to go inside when a shout drifts up from the garden.

‘Hi, Clemmie, how was your first night at Seaspray Cottage?’

Peering down, I catch sight of a grey wagging tail, then Charlie comes into view, craning his neck to look up, blinking in the sunlight.

‘Great, thanks.’ I’m not telling him that once I’d slept off the beer and champagne, the waves crashing up the beach kept me awake until the tide went out again. Give me the lull of traffic and police sirens any night. ‘How did you know I stayed?’ As if me standing out here at the crack of dawn wasn’t enough of a clue.

If it was anyone other than Charlie, I’d swear he let out a chortle. ‘I reckon the whole of St Aidan hears when you pull that flush of yours. I’m assuming it was you in the bathroom in the night, not intruders?’

Shit. If the sea making it impossible to sleep wasn’t enough to put me off the flat, Charlie Hobson counting every time I visit the loo takes away all the enjoyment of my first night ever with my very own bathroom and spare bedroom. Although I’m determined not to let myself get used to it, a whole flat all to myself, not sharing a loo, with rooms to wander through is beyond awesome. ‘Off for your morning walk?’ Hopefully that’ll take us somewhere less cringeworthy than him knowing how often I pee.

That sounds like another half-laugh. ‘Diesel and I had our morning walk hours ago, this is our lunchtime one.’

Damn again. When did it get so late? ‘Jeez, I’d better go.’

He steps backwards and looks out along the quayside. ‘Nell and Sophie are on their way now. It looks like they’re carrying the entire morning’s output from the bakery.’

‘Thanks for the running commentary.’ As nosey neighbours go he’s scoring a straight ten here. My ‘against’ list is getting longer by the second.

‘You’re welcome, any time.’ He’s missing the irony again. ‘By the way, there’s no need for you to shiver out here doing your Bridget Jones impersonation. There are some silk dressing gowns hanging behind the door in your bathroom.’

I’m gobsmacked, but I ignore the urge to run. Instead I give my long cardi an extra tug downwards and face him out. ‘How the hell do you know that?’ Even if my pants were on show – which they’re absolutely not – I’ve no worries about minimalism or over-exposure because my granny knicker shorts almost reach up to my boobs.

He’s already backing off along the path towards the bay. ‘Laura’s tenant did a lot of tidying before she left, we saw the bath robes when Diesel and I were round for tea one day. Anyway, we must go.’ No doubt he’s rushing off before Sophie comes close enough to collar him. ‘Enjoy your lunch.’

I give the girls a wave, then dip inside. By the time they burst in from the landing I’ve had time to dive into yesterday’s dress, flick on enough eyeliner and mascara to make it look like I have actual eyes rather than slits, and use up the whole of my handbag perfume.

‘Shall we eat at the table in the kitchen?’ I rake my fingers through my hair and bundle it into a bun with a scrunchie, then do a double take because that’s not a sentence I’ve ever said before. One night staying in a flat that’s almost all mine and I’m already sounding like I shop at Waitrose.

‘Good idea, then Matilde can do her colouring while we chat.’ Sophie leads the way and pulls out the fuchsia chair for her. ‘Your favourite colour, how lucky is that Tilly?’ She pulls a face. ‘Four kids in, I’ve decided you can’t fight gender stereotyping. Tilly was screaming for pink as they brandished the forceps.’

As Tilly slips off her unicorn backpack, scrambles up and spreads out her felt tips, it hits me I must have done the same thing at the same table when I was Tilly’s size. As Plum slides in to draw her some butterflies to colour, Nell’s getting her apple juice and waffles, and I’m plumping her cushion, making her comfy. When I think of how much love we all have for Tilly, it reminds me of the look on Laura’s face on the photo in the musical box. She must have done a lot more with me than I realise when I was small. Love comes from so many different places, but having it in our lives makes us who we are. For a second I’m overwhelmed by the feeling, and it’s like an unexpected gift to be back here having a chance to revisit everything Laura gave me.

‘Coffee’s the priority.’ Nell throws a pack on the worktop, and fills the kettle. ‘Let’s hope you’ve got a pot here, Clemmie.’

Sophie’s unpacking the bags onto platters she’s found on the dresser. ‘We’ve also brought every kind of breakfast pastry the bakery makes.’

‘Yummy.’ I’m bobbing in and out of cupboards and scouring the shelves for plates and mugs. ‘It’s a bit of a lucky dip, but here you go, one cafetière.’ As I slide it along to Nell, I come across a cutlery pot next to a knife block, and pick out a handful of bone-handled knives and silver spoons.

‘It looks pretty well stocked.’ Sophie’s taking in the cupboards rammed with utensils.

I’m smiling because the collection of crockery is enormous, yet so random. ‘So long as you’re not expecting to find any two items the same, I reckon we could stay here for a month without needing to wash up.’

As Nell opens the packet the smell of ground coffee drifts into the air. ‘And any time you want matching sets, you can always plunder the flat next door. Charlie seemed exceptionally willing to share his designer kitchen collections.’

I’ll ignore that suggestion. ‘We had no need to borrow those flutes, there are shelves of glasses here.’

Nell wiggles her eyebrows. ‘No harm in accepting help and cementing neighbourly relations.’

‘Knock yourself out, Nell, but after yesterday, for the time I’m here, I’m going to be the kind of aloof neighbour who keeps my distance.’

Nell’s nostrils flare, which is a sure sign she’s pissed off. ‘You might want to think of the Singles’ Club here, not just yourself.’ She seems to be ignoring that he turned her down flat on that one.

I grin. ‘So you have got the hots for Hobson after all?’ Then knowing she’ll deny it on principle even though I’m teasing, I move on to explain. ‘First, he wants to get his hands on the flat, now he’s claiming he can hear every loo flush through the wall so blanking him is the only way to save mega-embarrassment.’ As a cover-all reason for why I’m avoiding him it’s almost worth the shudders of remembering he knows when I wee.

Nell sniffs. ‘You might want to keep him on side when you hear what we’ve hit on for your fund raising.’

Sophie frowns at Nell. ‘Best to talk about that with coffee.’ She stoops down to reach the bottom section of the dresser. ‘You really have got all the equipment here. Your very own picnic basket too, can we have a peep?’

‘Looks like a two-person set from the size. You might have something cute and matching after all.’ Nell was never this ‘couple’ obsessed before her break up. She’d shoot us down in flames if we suggested it, but the way she goes on, even if it’s subliminal, there has to be a gap in her life that needs filling.

As the wicker basket hits the table, my scalp tingles. ‘That’s not for picnics.’ As I undo the buckles a glimpse of blue gingham lining spins me back to when I was small. In my head, I’m standing on a stool so I can reach the work top better, searching through a pile of cards to find my favourites. And I know without looking what’s inside the basket. ‘It’s full of Laura’s recipes.’

As I swing the lid of the basket upwards it’s like opening a window onto the past. ‘She used to copy out the recipes she liked most.’ I’m flicking through a mass of colourful hand written cards, all with scribbled notes and sketches in the characteristically pointy writing, with cut out magazine pictures and photos pasted on too. ‘Oh my, that Pavlova on the flowery tablecloth … apple pie in a summer garden … the most delicious looking syrup tart. Maybe I came here more often than I remember.’ My mouth’s watering.

Nell’s laughing as she pulls out a card. ‘If you were making salmon en croute and soufléed spinach omelettes as a kid, how did you not end up on master chef?’

Sophie lets out a groan. ‘Strawberry and lemon sorbet with mint leaves looks gorgeous.’

Plum’s leaning over her shoulder. ‘And look at the colour of that raspberry one. This is making me so hungry.’

‘Sorbet?’ Nell jumps forwards with a cry. ‘Hold that thought, I’ve just had a lightbulb moment.’

I’m going to have to move this on before my hunger pangs get the better of me. ‘Forget about me holding anything other than a cup of coffee and a pastry. Can we please have some breakfast?’

‘Absolutely.’ Nell swings by with the coffee pot, then pulls up a sky-blue chair. ‘And Soph and I can talk you through you the finer points of our plan.’

‘What?’ I’m mainly interested in how authentic the filling is in the almond croissants. It takes two minutes of ecstasy as it melts on my tongue to discover. It’s amazing.

Sophie brushes a chunk of cinnamon whirl off her chin, and leans over to break Tilly’s second chocolate waffle into pieces. ‘We put our thinking caps on last night and came up with the perfect answer to your cash flow problems.’

‘Bank robbing?’ It’s the only solution I’ve thought of, and I had hours to wrack my brains while the sea kept me awake.

Sophie’s wearing the same rise above it expression she uses when the kids are being especially tiresome. ‘This flat of yours is perfect as a micro venue. And Nell has a database of people in her club all instantly contactable on Facebook. It’s a no-brainer – merge the two, and you’ve got your very own instant “pop up” event.’

‘Then hear the cash registers ring.’ Nell had to add that bit. ‘People are happy to pay for something exclusive. To be honest mostly they’ll be ecstatic to try something different.’

I take a custard slice, bite into it, chew. And I’m still not getting it. ‘Can you explain that again, please? In English this time.’

Nell leans forward. ‘I’ve messaged around my Singles’ Club inner inner-circle and they’re all up for an “evening” at yours.’ Who knows what her finger wiggle speech marks are hinting at there. ‘In fact, it’s so popular, there’s already a waiting list.’

Sitting with my jaw sagging open is such a waste of a good mouthful. ‘What on earth would they do here? Sit and knit?’

Plum jumps in excitedly. ‘That’s another great idea we missed when we brainstormed.’ So, they’ve definitely been discussing it in detail.

Sophie takes a breath and begins again. ‘All Nell’s friends are looking for is a couple of hours to relax and enjoy the views. It’s a spectacular setting, the quirky decor makes it totally unique. And with your flawless customer service skills, if you throw in something lovely to eat, you’re in a perfect position to give them a fab time they’ll be happy to pay for.’

I’ll concede she’s right about the flat, even if she is over playing the positivity to the point of sounding like a lifestyle manual. But they’re forgetting something. ‘I don’t host parties, I go to them. This is way beyond me.’

Sophie gives my arm a squeeze. ‘Why do you always undersell yourself? Don’t worry, you do whatever you feel happy with, and we’ll cover the rest.’

Which is lovely, but there’s one huge hurdle they seem to be overlooking. ‘So are you going to order in takeaways, or are you planning to use caterers?’

Nell’s tutting. ‘For maximum profit, cut out the middle man. If you provide the food, you make on every side.’

‘Me?’ I’m so horrified I let my custard slice drop onto my plate. ‘I’m a bar person, I serve liquid. Lemon slices are the only food I touch. And I don’t actually make anything edible, even for myself, because I don’t have the skills and that’s what chefs do.’ Let’s face it, in most of the bars I’ve worked in food was the last thing on anyone’s mind.