‘Anything you two haven’t discussed this week?’ It was a catty remark, and I instantly regretted it.
She looked hurt. ‘Well, if you’re not going to tell me …’
I put down the jug of espresso I’d been making. ‘I’m sorry. Long week. I did end up calling him, we went for coffee on Saturday.’
Maeve didn’t look thrilled. ‘Do you think you’ll see him again?’
Which really was the question of the moment. Was I going to see Daniel again? Probably. I deserved to see what was under those clothes.
She wrinkled her nose. ‘TMI.’
Oops. Had I said that out loud? ‘Nothing in the entire history of our friendship has ever been TMI.’
Not even the time that she’d lost a condom and had to go to A & E to retrieve it. That had been a fun escapade.
‘Yeah, well, there’s a first for everything.’ She laughed it off. Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t really in the market for a detailed description of her sex life at the moment either.
‘I just want a bit of fun, after the Level disaster.’ I shrugged. ‘If you can’t have a bit of fun in your mid-twenties, when can you?’
Which was exactly how I was justifying it to myself. It was like a reward for testing out the app. A very handsome, charismatic reward.
My best friend visibly softened. ‘I know that Isaac hurt you.’
‘Isaac offended me.’ I corrected, swallowing the unexpected lump in my throat.
‘Right. Offended, not hurt.’ Maeve was trying not to smile. ‘Well, regardless, I agree. You do deserve some fun. But just remember who you are, Penny Webber.’ She was picking basil leaves from her plant on the kitchen windowsill, adding them into her pasta sauce. ‘Sorry for that initial reaction. It’s been a really long week.’
I jumped on the chance to quiz her. ‘Why? What’s going on with you?’
I willed her to give me something – anything – about what I’d overheard at the weekend. We’d been in the same room plenty of times this week. Plenty of opportunities to be honest. Maeve was my person, and I trusted her with my life, but right now the secrets were nestling into the foundations of our friendship, and for the first time in a long time it felt unsteady.
‘Work is horrible at the moment. There are too many patients that I want to help for longer than six months.’ Her face crumpled momentarily. ‘It’s hard not to bring it home, you know? Adrian was a great distraction for that.’
My bad-friend status hit me like a punch to the gut. ‘I’m so sorry, Maeve. I know how much you care about your patients.’
I felt awful that I’d forgotten to check in on her.
‘It’s just’ – she tasted the sauce – ‘that needs more salt …’
‘Maeve.’
‘Oh, right, it’s just hard, losing the one person who understood my job completely.’
I imagined not having Rory in the office. No one wanted to sit on a bean bag alone. ‘I’m sorry.’ I went over to her and rubbed her back. ‘I’ve taken my foot off the pedal with the Adrian stuff.’
And I should have considered her lack of a person to lean on when it came to her job. Sometimes I took for granted that Rory understood all my work woes in great detail.
She turned and leaned her head on my shoulder for a second. ‘You’re only one woman. And you did yoga in the park for me.’
‘I know.’ I dunked a sponge in coffee, trying to hold myself back from shoving it into my mouth. ‘But I’m not just here for extracurricular activities. You can talk to me.’
About anything, I wanted to add.
‘It’s fine.’ She’d shaken off the almost-breakdown, focusing on her sauce. ‘Adrian is clearly long gone, and it only hurts now because work is hard. I chose this job. And most days I’m really glad I did. That moment when I manage to push through a teenager’s barriers and connect with them during the hardest period of their life so far is my favourite thing in the world. Some weeks, though, it does just feel very lonely, carrying other people’s problems around.’
The buzzer for our flat went off repeatedly, making us both jump.
‘Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Just an occupational hazard. Go and get them, I think we’re almost ready.’ She chucked a necklace made of fake garlic bulbs at me. ‘Take these. That way, it won’t matter if it’s them at the door, or vampires.’
I laughed, not sure I felt okay leaving mid-conversation like this. I wanted her to feel like she could tell me anything. Even the secrets that left a hollow feeling in my chest.
She paused, opening a packet of rigatoni. ‘Joe will beat down our door once he smells this pasta, you know that, right?’
I did. My brother was a fiend when it came to pasta.
***
‘I have to say, I was sceptical about this.’ My brother stabbed another piece of rigatoni with his fork. ‘But this is fucking delightful.’
Maeve smiled, her brief interlude of sadness earlier forgotten, pointing him in the direction of the hob. ‘I’m going to choose not to take offence at that. There are extras over there.’
So far, the evening had been somewhat of a success. My bruschetta hadn’t killed anyone (yet), the wine that I’d been tasked with picking up was going down a treat, and the seating plan I’d cunningly devised when everyone had arrived was bearing the fruits of its labour. I’d deliberately placed Rory and Maeve at opposite ends of the table; if there was one thing I’d learnt from Isla and Joe, it was that love knew no bounds at a dinner table. And a longing look could say more than close proximity ever could. I’d watched season two of Bridgerton. Joe and Isla were on either side of Rory, and I was right by Maeve. That way, I could check she was okay, monitor them both for longing looks, and avoid Rory and conversations about Link and Level at the same time. In my brain, there was a full-on stealth mission occurring. My brother and Isla were blissfully unaware, running us through several elements of their big day.
‘How are the speeches coming along?’ Joe waved his fork stuffed with tubes of pasta at the two of us, flicking a spot of red sauce onto our tablecloth. ‘Written something beautiful enough to make even Isla’s mum cry yet? Ow.’
I snickered, having seen Isla’s foot jab him under the table. Isla’s mum had a reputation for being a bit frosty – from the glimpse of her I’d got at Isla’s twenty-fifth birthday a few years back, barking orders at one of the waiters at the restaurant, it was a mystery to me how Isla could have been related by blood. I’d once seen her run over and help a waiter when the plate he was carrying was clearly way too hot.
‘I’ve got something up my sleeve.’ Rory tapped his nose. ‘Can’t reveal too much, though. Don’t want Pen stealing my thunder.’
