chef’s clothing. She came in and gathered up the dirty plates from the vacated table.
‘Hi, I was wondering if you’d be back,’ she called to Colin.
‘Hello Jessie,’ he answered.
Polly and Katherine turned to him in surprise.
‘We met the other night. I came in for a quick drink, and Jessie and her boyfriend were sitting here. We got talking.’
Jessie grinned. ‘You and I did. That loser Damon had buggered off, remember, it was just me and Raff.’ Her eyes flicked from Polly to Katherine. ‘Your, ah, husband gave me a lift home…?’ She made it a pointed question.
‘These are my friends, Polly and Katherine. I’m not married,’ Colin explained.
Jessie glanced at the folds of Colin’s scarf, and his expensive soft jacket.
‘No. So you’re all from Mead, then?’
She shuffled the plates into a precarious pile, scraping leftovers on to the uppermost one. ‘Whoops.’
Cutlery threatened to slide out of the plate sandwich and she dipped her hips and shimmied to tilt the load the other way. She looked very young and cheerful.
‘All of us,’ Polly answered. ‘We’re old friends, we’ve known each other for years, and my husband and I and Katherine and hers have moved up here to be together and not to sink into a decline in our old age.’
‘That’s cool. So it’s like, what did you call it in those days, a commune?’
‘No,’ they said, absolutely in unison.
Miranda was passionate about her scheme and each of the rest of them would have differently defined what they hoped Mead would become, but they had always been unanimous in declaring that it wouldn’t be a commune. Amos had said that communes stood for vegetarianism and free love and bad plumbing, and he would not be interested in any of those separately, let alone in combination.
‘The jury’s out on number two,’ Selwyn had muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Polly at the time. The memory of this made her smile. When she was amused, Polly’s eyes narrowed under heavy lids and her cheeks rounded into smooth apples so that she looked like a thumbnail sketch of a Japanese lady on a packet of egg noodles.
‘It’s more a collaboration, I’d say,’ Polly offered.
‘What about you, then?’ Jessie asked Colin.
‘I come and go,’ he told her.
‘Can’t see my mum doing anything like that. She lives in a bungalow,’ Jessie remarked, as if this entirely defined her.
Vin leaned heavily on the bar. Jessie seemed to feel his glare on her back.
‘I got a job, as you see,’ she announced to Colin, rolling her eyes. She raised her voice slightly. ‘Helping out in the kitchen, bit of cooking, washing up and that. There’s plenty of work around here, not a problem. Are you going to have lunch? We’re supposed to stop at two. Chef’s off today, we’re just microwaving, but I could do you lasagne and chips, or a baked and toppings if you like.’
‘No, we’re fine. We’ll just have our wine. Thanks.’
Jessie nodded and hoisted her pile of plates. ‘Nice to have met you,’ she told Polly and Katherine. ‘Come back one evening. We’ve got live music Fridays and Saturdays, not completely crap, as it goes, then quiz night’s Tuesday.’
‘Amos and Selwyn would love a quiz,’ Katherine said.
‘But they don’t know anything about telly or sport or pop music,’ Colin pointed out.
Jessie turned on him in indignation. ‘Some of the questions are quite intellectual. You should come as well and meet Geza. He’s the chef.’
‘I see.’
‘Sure you won’t have some food?’
They assured her that they would not.
‘Bye, then,’ Jessie said, and danced her way back to the kitchen.
Polly gave her Japanese noodle lady smile. She leaned closer to Colin and lowered her voice. ‘You’ve got the chance of a nice gay chef, by the sound of it.’
‘I’ve already seen him. Not bad at all,’ Colin smiled.
She tapped her hand lightly on his knee.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not even to please you,
‘Hi, I was wondering if you’d be back,’ she called to Colin.
‘Hello Jessie,’ he answered.
Polly and Katherine turned to him in surprise.
‘We met the other night. I came in for a quick drink, and Jessie and her boyfriend were sitting here. We got talking.’
Jessie grinned. ‘You and I did. That loser Damon had buggered off, remember, it was just me and Raff.’ Her eyes flicked from Polly to Katherine. ‘Your, ah, husband gave me a lift home…?’ She made it a pointed question.
‘These are my friends, Polly and Katherine. I’m not married,’ Colin explained.
Jessie glanced at the folds of Colin’s scarf, and his expensive soft jacket.
‘No. So you’re all from Mead, then?’
She shuffled the plates into a precarious pile, scraping leftovers on to the uppermost one. ‘Whoops.’
Cutlery threatened to slide out of the plate sandwich and she dipped her hips and shimmied to tilt the load the other way. She looked very young and cheerful.
‘All of us,’ Polly answered. ‘We’re old friends, we’ve known each other for years, and my husband and I and Katherine and hers have moved up here to be together and not to sink into a decline in our old age.’
‘That’s cool. So it’s like, what did you call it in those days, a commune?’
‘No,’ they said, absolutely in unison.
Miranda was passionate about her scheme and each of the rest of them would have differently defined what they hoped Mead would become, but they had always been unanimous in declaring that it wouldn’t be a commune. Amos had said that communes stood for vegetarianism and free love and bad plumbing, and he would not be interested in any of those separately, let alone in combination.
‘The jury’s out on number two,’ Selwyn had muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Polly at the time. The memory of this made her smile. When she was amused, Polly’s eyes narrowed under heavy lids and her cheeks rounded into smooth apples so that she looked like a thumbnail sketch of a Japanese lady on a packet of egg noodles.
‘It’s more a collaboration, I’d say,’ Polly offered.
‘What about you, then?’ Jessie asked Colin.
‘I come and go,’ he told her.
‘Can’t see my mum doing anything like that. She lives in a bungalow,’ Jessie remarked, as if this entirely defined her.
Vin leaned heavily on the bar. Jessie seemed to feel his glare on her back.
‘I got a job, as you see,’ she announced to Colin, rolling her eyes. She raised her voice slightly. ‘Helping out in the kitchen, bit of cooking, washing up and that. There’s plenty of work around here, not a problem. Are you going to have lunch? We’re supposed to stop at two. Chef’s off today, we’re just microwaving, but I could do you lasagne and chips, or a baked and toppings if you like.’
‘No, we’re fine. We’ll just have our wine. Thanks.’
Jessie nodded and hoisted her pile of plates. ‘Nice to have met you,’ she told Polly and Katherine. ‘Come back one evening. We’ve got live music Fridays and Saturdays, not completely crap, as it goes, then quiz night’s Tuesday.’
‘Amos and Selwyn would love a quiz,’ Katherine said.
‘But they don’t know anything about telly or sport or pop music,’ Colin pointed out.
Jessie turned on him in indignation. ‘Some of the questions are quite intellectual. You should come as well and meet Geza. He’s the chef.’
‘I see.’
‘Sure you won’t have some food?’
They assured her that they would not.
‘Bye, then,’ Jessie said, and danced her way back to the kitchen.
Polly gave her Japanese noodle lady smile. She leaned closer to Colin and lowered her voice. ‘You’ve got the chance of a nice gay chef, by the sound of it.’
‘I’ve already seen him. Not bad at all,’ Colin smiled.
She tapped her hand lightly on his knee.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not even to please you,
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