‘In that case, you can join us with pleasure,’ she laughs. ‘I’m sure it won’t be any trouble to add an extra place, especially as it’s a table for four.’
‘Except that we won’t be able to talk about you now,’ Esther jokes. As Jack purloins a chair from another table, it occurs to me that had she wanted to say anything more damaging, she wouldn’t have been able to. Not that it really matters any more.
‘I’m sure you’ve got far more interesting things to talk about than me,’ Jack smiles, placing me opposite Esther and signalling to the waitress to bring another place setting.
‘And Grace would only have nice things to say about you anyway, so it wouldn’t be much fun,’ Diane sighs.
‘Oh, I’m sure she’d be able to find a few little imperfections.’ Esther looks at me challengingly. ‘Wouldn’t you, Grace?’
‘I doubt it,’ I say. ‘As you can see, Jack is pretty perfect.’
‘Oh come on, he can’t be that perfect! There must be something!’
I furrow my brow, making a show of giving it some thought, then shake my head regretfully. ‘No, sorry, I really can’t think of anything—unless buying me too many flowers counts. Sometimes it’s hard to find enough vases to put them in.’
Beside me, Diane groans. ‘That is not a fault, Grace.’ She turns to Jack. ‘I don’t suppose you could give Adam a few tips on how to spoil one’s wife, could you?’
‘Don’t forget that Grace and Jack are practically newly-weds compared to all of us,’ Esther points out. ‘And they don’t have children yet. Gallantry tends to fly out of the window once familiarity and babies install themselves in a relationship.’ She pauses a moment. ‘Did you live together for long before you got married?’
‘We didn’t have time to live together,’ Jack explains. ‘We got married less than six months after we met.’
Esther raises her eyebrows. ‘Gosh, that was quick!’
‘Once I knew Grace was the one for me, there didn’t seem to be any point in hanging around,’ he says, taking my hand.
Esther looks over at me, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. ‘And you didn’t find any skeletons in the closet once you were married?’
‘Not a single one.’ I take the menu the waitress holds out to me and open it eagerly, not only because I want to stop Esther’s interrogation of my relationship with Jack but also because I’m hungry. I scan the dishes on offer and see that their fillet steak comes with mushrooms, onions and French fries. Perfect.
‘Is anybody having anything remotely fattening?’ Diane asks hopefully.
Esther shakes her head. ‘Sorry. I’m going for a salad.’
‘I’m having the fillet steak,’ I tell her. ‘With fries. And I’ll probably have the chocolate fudge cake for dessert,’ I add, knowing that is what she wants to hear.
‘In that case, I’ll join Esther in a salad and you in the fudge cake,’ she says happily.
‘Would anybody like wine?’ Jack asks, ever the perfect host.
‘No, thank you,’ says Diane, and, regretfully, I resign myself to an alcohol-free lunch because Jack never drinks during the day.
‘I’d love some,’ says Esther. ‘But only if you and Grace have some too.’
‘I won’t,’ says Jack. ‘I have a lot to do this afternoon.’
‘I will,’ I tell Esther. ‘Would you prefer red or white?’
The conversation, while we’re waiting to be served, turns to the local musical festival, which takes place every July and draws people from miles around. We agree that where we all live, we’re near enough to be able to attend the festival easily yet far enough away to not be disturbed by the thousands of people that descend on the town. Although Diane and Adam always go to the festival, Jack and I have never been and we’re soon drawn into Diane’s plans for all of us to go together. In talking about music, we learn that Esther plays the piano and Rufus the guitar and when I admit to not being at all musical, Esther asks me if I like reading and I tell her I do, although I do very little. We talk about the sort of books we like, and Esther mentions a new bestseller that has just come out and asks if we’ve read it. It turns out that none of us have.
‘Would you like me to lend it to you?’ she asks, as the waitress puts our meals on the table.
‘Yes, please.’ I’m so touched that she has offered to lend her book to me rather than to Diane that I forget.
‘I’ll drop it round this afternoon,’ she offers. ‘I don’t teach on Fridays.’
Now I remember. ‘You might have to leave it in the letter box. If I’m in the garden, which I probably will be, I won’t hear the bell.’
‘I’d love to see your garden sometime,’ she enthuses. ‘Especially after what Jack said about you having green fingers.’
‘There’s no need for you to drive over,’ says Jack, neatly sidestepping the massive hint she’s just dropped. ‘Grace can buy the book for herself.’
‘It’s really no problem.’ Esther eyes her salad appreciatively. ‘Gosh, this looks lovely.’
‘In fact, we’ll go and buy a copy as soon as we’ve finished here. Smith’s is just around the corner.’
‘Is it just on Fridays that you don’t work?’ I ask, wanting to change the subject.
‘No, I don’t work Tuesdays either. One of the other teachers and I job-share.’
‘I’d love to be able to do that,’ says Diane wistfully. ‘It’s hard working full-time when you’ve got children. But I’d hate to give up working altogether, which is the only alternative because my firm haven’t heard of job-sharing yet.’
Esther looks over at me. ‘I can’t believe you don’t miss working. I mean, you had a pretty exciting job before you got married.’
I busy myself cutting a piece of steak, because it’s hard being reminded of the life I used to have. ‘Not at all—I have plenty to keep me occupied.’
‘So what are your other hobbies, apart from painting, gardening and reading?’
‘Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that,’ I say, realising how lame it sounds.
‘What Grace hasn’t told you is that she makes a lot of her own clothes,’ Jack intervenes. ‘Just the other day, she made herself a lovely dress.’
‘Really?’ Esther looks at me with interest.
Used to thinking on my feet, I don’t bat an eyelid. ‘It was just a dress to wear around the house,’ I explain. ‘Nothing fancy. I don’t make clothes to wear out in the evening or anything too complicated.’
‘I didn’t know you were good with a needle.’ Diane’s eyes gleam. ‘I’d love to be able to sew.’
‘Me too,’ says Esther. ‘Perhaps you could teach me, Grace.’
‘Maybe we could start a sewing circle with you as our teacher,’ Diane suggests.
‘I’m really not that good,’ I protest, ‘which is why I’ve never mentioned it before. I’m too worried people will ask to see something I’ve made.’
‘Well, if you sew anything like you cook, I’m sure the dress you made is beautiful!’
‘You’ll have to show it to us sometime,’ Esther says.
‘I will,’ I promise. ‘But only if you don’t ask me to make you