Chapter 19 #2
The bell over the door rings and we both rush out of the kitchen in surprise (I was totally not expecting anyone ever to turn up; I was too embarrassed to beg even Ellie or Miranda to come) to see Marcus, Ruby and Sam.
Simon and I seat them right in the window, just in case there are any passers-by (there won’t be) who would be tempted in (if there were any they wouldn’t be tempted because they’d be on their way somewhere), and put large bowls of stew, a big plate of sourdough and glasses of water down in front of them.
‘Looks amazing,’ says Marcus. ‘Kids, you start. I just need to make a quick call.’
While he’s outside, Ellie and Jack, plus Miranda and her kids (without Rob, who is working late this evening) turn up. We seat them in the window too.
‘See,’ I tell Simon. ‘We do have customers.’
‘We have your best friends and their kids,’ he says.
A few minutes later, three couples, one of them with two kids in tow, turn up. I recognise them all, but they definitely couldn’t be classified as friends of mine.
‘See,’ I say again to Simon while we’re dishing up in the kitchen. ‘Acquaintances, not actual friends.’
‘I’m not sure whether or not to tell you this but I think on balance I should.’ He puts sourdough into baskets. ‘Those are men Marcus plays padel with, plus their partners and kids.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah.’ He gives me a quick hug. ‘I feel like you should look on this as a nice thing Marcus has done for you and they can then tell their friends how amazing this is.’
No other customers turn up, and there’s a lot of stew, so practically speaking it’s a very good job Marcus called his friends.
I have Scrabble boards around the room and, when they’ve finished the chocolate and sultana tray bake I made for pudding, everyone – some more enthusiastically than others, it has to be said – arranges themselves, with a little help from Simon and me, at tables to play.
Simon and I join in so that we have five tables of four.
One of the tables – predominantly teenagers – remains only moderately enthusiastic, although I do see even them cracking a few smiles and even the odd laugh, but the other four are soon fully absorbed in their games.
Time genuinely flies until before we know it games are finishing, with in two cases some extremely hotly contested results and mutterings about people having cheated by reading the dictionary, and everyone – even the teenagers – agrees that it’s been a great evening.
‘So you know what you have to do,’ Simon says as they leave. He’s all for shameless plugging of his business. ‘Tell literally everyone you know to come next week. And also that I am a great interior designer.’
‘If everyone we know comes that will be too many people,’ pipes up Sam.
‘Never too many,’ Simon says airily.
‘Exactly,’ I confirm. ‘We can just spread out into your flat. Perfect interior design advertising.’
‘That was fantastic,’ Marcus says. ‘Worth far more than ten pounds a head. Also.’ He and I were on the same Scrabble table and I know what’s coming. ‘El is not a real word.’
The el enabled me to get a seven-letter word down, with the ‘e’ above an ‘l’.
‘Are you joking?’ I say, mock angry. ‘It’s a very well-known ancient measure of cloth.’
Marcus shakes his head. ‘There’s only one thing for it. We need a rematch.’
‘Happy to beat you again any time.’
‘Friday?’ he says.
‘You’re on.’
I’m going to London overnight on Saturday for a party, staying with friends, and it will be nice to see Marcus properly before I go.
* * *
I go to Marcus’s on Friday evening, because Ruby and Sam are both home, and he doesn’t like leaving Ruby babysitting Sam too often, not wanting her ever to feel resentful of her younger brother.
The four of us eat takeaway pizza together.
We chat. We play Scrabble. (Marcus and I are so intent on playing words that we think will hinder the other that Ruby storms past us and wins.) We chat.
We drink mint tea. (It’s the first time Sam’s tried it and he admits to liking it.) We chat more.
It’s an extremely good evening. Pleasant.
Lovely. Agreeable. Delightful. All the synonyms for very, very nice.
Ruby stays and continues to chat to us after Sam’s gone to bed, and it’s still very lovely.
Then I notice that it’s eleven and say I should go.
I’m in the café from eight thirty until lunchtime tomorrow, before I leave for my night in London.
Ruby’s starting at ten so that Simon and I can run through things together with her while there are two of us there, and then she’s going to help Simon in the afternoon.
As I leave, I say to Marcus, ‘Thank you for calling your friends to come to the potluck supper.’
‘They loved it. I’ve got lots of people spreading the word.’
‘That’s very kind.’
‘Not kind. It takes no time at all to mention to people and that’s what friends are for.’
I leave with a feeling of warm fuzziness.
* * *
Ruby proves to be a quick learner in the morning, which is fortunate, because the café’s quite busy today – people seem to be taking advantage of what might be one of the last sunny and reasonably warm Saturdays before winter begins to set in – and Simon would have been run off his feet this afternoon all by himself.
I drive to the railway station in Chartfield and leave my car in the long stay car park, before catching the fast train to London.