A Recipe for Disaster. Belinda Missen

enough.’ I smiled. ‘Thanks for the car, by the way, and the flowers – they were lovely.’

      ‘Ahh, you’re welcome. Have you used the car since?’

      ‘Yeah, when I grabbed dinner.’

      ‘Okay. Good. It was just the battery, nothing major.’

      We stood about awkwardly for more moments than I wanted to count. I couldn’t think of anything to say, not after the last few days, and Oliver looked like he wanted to spit out everything that came to mind. He looked around nervously, and took a deep breath.

      ‘Look, I know things haven’t got off to the best start between us. I wanted to, I don’t know, give you a bit of space. I’ve been thinking about what you said to me the other night. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually.’

      ‘Me, too.’

      ‘You have?’ he asked.

      I nodded.

      ‘Okay.’ He chewed his bottom lip and silenced the phone that rang in his pocket. ‘You mentioned divorce, so I went to my lawyers and got an agreement drafted up. I’ve also organised a lump-sum payment for you. As you rightfully mentioned, I haven’t done my part in the mortgage business. I want to make that right.’

      ‘Thank you,’ I said quietly as he passed the envelope over in a moment that was proving more emotional than I wanted it to. Or maybe that was the financial relief. I couldn’t be sure.

      ‘Don’t thank me – you make it sound like I’m doing the right thing.’ Again, he silenced his phone, this time switching it off completely. ‘How are you? I heard you quit your job today?’

      I think I smiled. ‘News travels fast.’

      ‘I was actually thinking about that, too.’ Oliver reached up with his left hand, scratching behind his right ear, perfecting the look of pure innocence that often got him out of trouble. ‘You got a few minutes? Can I come in? Would that be okay?’

      ‘Sure.’

      We sat across from each other at the dining table, one at which we’d always, always sat next to each other. I placed the orange envelope of destruction on the bench, out of sight, and out of mind, flicked on the kettle, and turned the radio on low.

      ‘Like I said, I’ve been thinking a lot recently. I know that money will help you, or at least I hope it will.’

      ‘It will, thank you.’ Elbows on the table, I leant my chin in the palm of my hand. ‘Help get some stuff fixed.’

      Oliver nodded. ‘There’s something else.’

      ‘Oh?’ Right now, as I sat, I was waiting to be told he had a small army of children or some such coming to stay.

      ‘There’s a job for you at Murray’s. If you’re interested, that is.’

      I cringed, and I think I recoiled involuntarily. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’

      Oliver shrugged. ‘It’s certainly not my worst idea.’

      ‘I don’t think we should. I think we should just close this chapter off and move on.’

      He took a deep breath and dropped his chin onto his chest, almost deflated. ‘I’m happy to hold off on the opening date to accommodate your needs.’

      ‘No,’ I said. A final push back to what would be the easy option. ‘I’m going to concentrate on my cakes, and see where that takes me.’

      ‘All right. Okay.’ Oliver wiped his hands on his pants and stood up. ‘You’ll get that paperwork back to me whenever you’re ready?’

      ‘Will do.’

      ‘Goodnight, Lucy.’ He stopped by the front door. ‘Good to see you.’

      ‘You, too.’

      I didn’t move from my seat as he closed the door behind him, offered a brief wave, and slipped into the night. I picked up my phone and fired off a lunch request to Zoe. She’d know what to do.