stars of the season, the basil almost out of control during the heat of the summer, but the darling fig tree had let no one down either. Ava concentrated on dividing the meringue into equal portions, preventing the fruit from falling too far down the sides of each slice and letting the chatter wash over her. She was at the exact point where sad and relaxed meet, a resigned melancholy. It was as if the room were in soft focus as she passed a plate to each of them, sat back and enjoyed her pudding, half-listening to a conversation Jackie and Lauren were having about how to keep their jewellery clean. So intent were they on maintaining sparkle without causing damage, it was as if they were in some sort of Bling Club.
‘That ammonia diamond cleaning stuff absolutely stinks, doesn’t it?’ said Lauren.
‘Oh I know, it’s ghastly! Sometimes I have to put my eternity ring in the shed if I’m cooking,’ agreed Jackie. ‘I just can’t bear the smell of it in the house. But then one day I became incredibly nervous that a squirrel or a magpie or some other creature would find its way in there and either help itself to my diamonds or drink the stuff and die.’
‘So what do you do now?’
‘I make your father clean it when I’m at bridge.’
Andrew raised his eyes heavenwards and nodded.
‘It’s like a horrible window into my future,’ said Rory, with the kind of childlike smile that made it perfectly obvious that he loved all conversations about his finest hour: the engagement ring. As the table chuckled collectively, Ava glanced idly at what she called her ‘Dunne’s ring’, with its simple band and small stone. She felt her father’s broad hand pat her leg beneath the table before he leant in and whispered in her ear, ‘Your day will come, my darling. I have no doubt.’ At this, she stared down at her plate, ashamed to be once again comparing herself to Lauren, for whom she was genuinely happy. She felt the tears well up and blinked fast to do her best to quell them: she didn’t care about a wedding or even want a big ring, just a slice of the joy that Lauren and Rory seemed to share – the sense of being in the same boat together was what she envied, not the accompanying accessories.
As Ava looked up, she noticed Rob was staring at her curiously. For the first time all weekend she was completely unable to read what his face was saying. This in turn panicked her, not because she couldn’t tell, but because once she found it so easy to do so. She smiled at him and he smiled back, but each looked as if they had just told the other bad news. Tiredness turned to sadness as she stirred milk into her coffee.
The drive home was even more silent than the one there. Rob reached for the radio controls as soon as the car was out of the driveway and they had stopped waving to Jackie and Andrew. Once he found a books show on Radio 4, they listened to it intently for the entire journey, occasionally commenting companionably. The programme provided a conversational buoy that they clung to gratefully. Anything rather than drown in the mire of the things they suddenly needed to talk about. There was none of the resentment of earlier in the day, it was almost as if their situation was something they shared. At last they had found common ground again. Maybe now they could turn a corner.
Ava pulled up outside the house and turned the engine off.
‘Would you like me to come in?’ asked Rob.
He always stayed over on a Sunday night. They might never have chosen ‘their song’, but there had never been any doubt that Sunday night was ‘their night’. The fact that he even had to ask this question made feel Ava sad. Meanwhile, the sensation of cold, prickly anxiety running through her was increasing.
‘Of course, it’s Sunday.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I’m still really full, though. Not sure about cooking.’
‘Okay, no problem.’ He smiled back, politely.
Their new-found awkwardness continued as they reached the front door, each trying to hold it open for the other: the timidity of a first date, with none of the delicious tension. When they finally entered, both were tired and took their coats off with relief.
Ava went into the kitchen to put the container from the pavlova into the dishwasher and saw that it had not been emptied from last night’s curry. She scanned the room; it quickly became obvious that the ostentatious tidying up that Rob had been doing when she had returned from her run had been somewhat superficial. As she noticed this, she heard the insistent mosquito buzz of racing cars in the living room. Clearly Rob had decided to pop his feet up and catch up on Formula 1. Ava took a deep breath. She didn’t want to be that woman – the one who whinged on about the housework, only pausing to nag about commitment. That woman was everything she dreaded, becoming her was to be avoided at all costs.
She took a deep breath and went upstairs, where she lay down on the bed for a couple of hours, trying to read a book. It was soon replaced by the remainder of the morning’s papers, which she flicked through looking for something to distract her. Eventually she gave up and had a bath. By the time she came back downstairs in her pajamas and fluffy dressing gown they had been at opposite ends of her admittedly tiny house for almost three hours.
‘I’m going to make an omelette,’ she said, standing at the living-room door. ‘Would you like one?’
Rob looked up, displaying all the signs of having forgotten that she was in the house at all.
‘Ooh, yes please! And look – Morgan & Hughes is on.’
The regional detective show was one of Ava’s favourites – second only to Strictly in the cosy autumn TV watching schedules. They had spent many happy evenings together, with trays of comforting wintery food on their laps, trying to work out who the unlikely murderer was. (It was always the most famous of the weekly guest stars!)
‘But it’s already begun.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve missed the set up.’
‘You’ll catch up …’ He patted the sofa next to him, as if she were a cat.
But you didn’t call me, she wanted to say. You used to call me! She chose not to say anything – it seemed wiser at this point.
Fifteen minutes later she was snuggled next to Rob on the sofa, their omelettes eaten and an apple shared. They watched the programme in the same companionable silence as they had driven back from the Dunnes, as if they were the best flatmates in the world. Later, Rob had a shower while Ava got into bed and returned to her book. He returned from the bathroom wearing pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt, got into bed, kissed Ava on the forehead and rolled over before she had a chance to kiss him back.
‘Good night,’ she mouthed to herself as she leant over to turn off the bedside light. She lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rise and fall of Rob’s breathing.
Just before she fell asleep she realised that Lauren had never explained what she wanted for her wedding flowers.
Chapter Four
Monday, 29 August
Monday. A fresh new day, except it didn’t really feel like it after a muggy, restless night’s sleep. Ava struggled through the morning as if she were wading in treacle. All of the usual tasks seemed to take twice as long; part of the Dutch flower delivery was wrong when it arrived so they were swimming in an extraordinary amount of tulips. A small child, momentarily unwatched, had silently pulled the petals off several hydrangeas within the first hour of Dunne’s being open. She felt stifled in her own shop, her safe place, of which she was usually so proud and felt so at home in. Today it felt too hot, too small for her – it was as if summer had suddenly decided make its final effort.
By eleven o’clock, Ava had dropped a tin pail filled with stale flowery water. She watched with resignation as it spilled out onto the shop floor and all over her feet. The plimsolls she had on seemed particularly inappropriate footwear as she felt the water seep in, knowing they would now stink for a day or two. She remembered standing in front of her wardrobe only a few hours earlier, too tired and defeated to wear anything more sophisticated than the jeans and stripy T-shirt she had opted for. Why bother, she remembered thinking, no one will notice what you’re wearing. Now she regretted