‘Okay,’ he declared. ‘Lunch at the pub. Last one in the car is a slag.’
‘That’s not fair,’ protested Karen, ‘I’ve got to get baby gear.’
‘Rules are rules,’ he said emphatically, enjoying his moment of unjustifiable authority.
We all squashed into Karen’s 2CV and rattled off to The Cart and Horses as though we were having a great time.
On the way back, Karen told us about the loch nearby.
‘They have an archaic crossing system,’ she explained, ‘with two rowing boats tied at the shore on either side, so people can cross back and forth whenever they need to.’
‘How long does it take to get across?’ I asked.
‘About an hour, apparently. There’s a sign that says you must always leave at least one boat on each shore.’
‘That’s one little ritual I’d like to mess up,’ said Mark. ‘Let’s go over there now and take to the water.’
Karen laughed. ‘Not today,’ she said. ‘I need to get this little one back for a nap.’
‘You’re just chicken,’ he said. He made a stupid clucking sound and Jodie tutted.
Mark fell asleep in front of the fire once we got back, while Jodie and Karen bathed Melanie. It wasn’t a big deal to slice a few vegetables. I put the radio on and listened to a programme about fly fishing and gave them a call when it was ready.
Karen put Melanie to bed and the four of us sat around the small wobbly table and helped ourselves. The whole set-up felt staged and stilted, although it was hard to pinpoint exactly why. It was probably just me, feeling out of sorts.
Seeing them again had brought it all back, reminding me of how hard I’d found life at University, trying to be hip and cool like the other students. I’d done my best to fit in, but I was too withdrawn, prim and plain to do anything about it until Karen came along. I’d felt like I was walking round with the words pitiful loser stamped across my forehead.
To add insult to injury, somehow it got around that my dad was an undertaker, instantly setting up a distasteful impression. I could see the reaction in their faces: Woah – her dad works with DEAD people…! No matter how much I tried to avoid the subject it always seemed to crop up and stain whatever credibility I had. It set me up as weird before I even opened my mouth.
Karen had rescued me back then and we’d become good friends, but I had no regrets about losing touch with Jodie and Mark. We’d rubbed along and I’d made an effort, because they were mates of Karen’s, but there was no real love lost between the three of us.
Jodie had seemed glamorous at the time, but now I wondered about her hidden self. Was she happy? Something about her seemed forced. I was getting that feeling with Karen too – like she was playing at being upbeat, when she was really anything but.
Mark sat next to me and jiggled his elbow against mine in a playful way as I handed him the pepper. Had he changed, I wondered?
‘What have you been up to, Honey?’ he asked.
I wanted to sound impressive. ‘Oh, I love London – I go to lots of photography exhibitions, concerts, films. I’m going to train as a primary school teacher.’
‘Boyfriend?’
‘No. Not at the moment…but you never know…’ I added an optimistic smile for good measure.
Jodie didn’t say a word to start with, taking tiny precise forkfuls of food at irregular intervals. When she finally spoke it was to ask a question.
‘I’m really sorry, but is there anything else to eat?’ She nudged a lump of carrot around the plate. ‘This is a bit…mushy.’
‘There’s pudding,’ said Karen helpfully. ‘Alice made blackberry crumble and custard.’
‘Or there’s fruit,’ I added, pointing to two navel oranges and a banana in a basket near the window.
Jodie winced as if we were offering her dead insects.
‘You’ve done really well, Alice,’ Karen said without a trace of condescension, chewing heartily.
‘Very tasty,’ reiterated Mark.
It didn’t take long before the reminiscences resumed.
‘Remember the time Karen managed to wangle tickets to see U2,’ said Mark. ‘She got those tickets just for you – I remember.’ I waited for him to point his finger at me, but he prodded it against Jodie’s chest, instead.
‘Yeah – totally wicked,’ said Jodie. Mark was wrong. Karen had told me she’d got those tickets especially for me, at the time. U2 was my favourite band in 2005.
I was still silently smarting at Mark’s mistake, when he turned to me. ‘What’s your favourite U2 song, Alice?’