15

‘Let me put my ears in,’ said Francesco, bellowing down the phone.

Penny stood at her work bench, chopping celery and onions for a soup.

‘I cannot wait to tell you what I did last night.’

Penny scrunched up her face. ‘Do I even want to know?’ she said, flushed at the memory of what she did last night.

‘I went to a Nigel party.’

‘A what?’

‘A Nigel party!’

‘Ahhhh, that well-known annual event on everyone’s calendar! A Nigel party!’

Francesco issued a deliberate cough. What he meant by that was ‘wanker’. He’d once told her a story about being a kid, and having learned about that insult from one of the British girls at school, had employed it on his father. Only, Francesco’s father had understood it and when he’d challenged him (‘What did you say to me, boy?’) Francesco had tried to tell him he’d only coughed. It became a running joke. Nobody needed to actually say the word ‘wanker’ when they could cough. In Francesco’s family – and now for Penny – everyone knew what a meaningful cough meant.

‘Tell me about your Nigel party, then …’ Penny said.

‘Well,’ said Francesco, and she could hear the hustle and bustle of the road as he walked somewhere. It must have been his day off. ‘Did you know the number of Nigels born in this country is in rapid decline?’

‘Imagine my surprise,’ said Penny.

Francesco coughed again, refusing to resume conversation.

‘Sorry,’ Penny said. ‘I went to bed late last night. I’m being cranky with you because I’m tired.’

‘Did you know teenagers practise emotional boundaries with their parents because it is considered safe to? It’s the same in relationships – we’re only really horrible to the people we know won’t leave us.’

Penny smiled. Francesco was forever telling her facts and stories and titbits that way. ‘It’s like you’ve eaten “Psychoanalysis Crunch” for breakfast or something,’ she said.

‘You are proving my point,’ he replied.

‘Oh, hush,’ she said, affably.

‘Can I tell you about Nigel now?’

‘I’m dying for you to …’ she said.

‘Well, as I said, the rate of Nigels is in decline. So this guy at a pub near work where we go between shifts sometimes is called Nigel, and when he found out they are a dying species he held a Nigel party! I’m not kidding, there must have been six hundred Nigels in that place.’

‘Oh,’ exclaimed Penny. ‘That’s actually pretty cool.’

‘It was! There were Nigels from the UK and Australia and New Zealand …’

‘People actually flew in for this?’

‘Yup! So many Nigels that Nigel the Pub Owner had to get a marquee in the beer garden. One woman there even proposed to her Nigel!’

‘Well, that is an exciting night,’ said Penny. Her phone lit up and she was temporarily distracted as she read a message from Thomas: My place or yours later? it said.

Yours, she texted back, following up with an aubergine emoji and a love heart.

‘One of us should commit to calling our child Nigel, I think,’ Francesco carried on. ‘As a contribution to the cause. Except, not me, because I have Italian heritage and need a name that ends in a vowel.’

‘You want me to call my child Nigel.’

‘Maybe just the bump,’ Francesco said. ‘If you call your bump Nigel I’ll throw you a mini Nigel party, and then when he comes out we won’t mention it again but we can sleep soundly knowing we’ve done our part.’

‘Great plan, Nigel Superfan, but I won’t ever have a bump, so. Your plan is foiled.’

She could hear Francesco’s brain whirring down the line. ‘You don’t want children?’ he said. ‘I thought you were really excited to one day be a mum. That really surprises me.’ He paused. ‘You once asked me about adoption, actually. Is that the plan?’

‘Well,’ said Penny, slowly. ‘I do want children, it’s just I can’t carry them myself. Something-something-cancer, something-something-early-menopause … was going to freeze my eggs but then decided to get them fertilized with donor sperm so we could check for the cancer gene and I wouldn’t have to spend years wondering what the deal was … now I have embryos in storage at a central London fertility clinic … blah blah blah … I won’t get a bump, but a surrogate will. Maybe Clementine. So. We’d have to ask her how she feels about a bump called Nigel.’

Francesco went quiet. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘That’s because I never told you,’ Penny murmured.

‘I feel like an idiot now. I was just being stupid.’

‘No,’ said Penny. ‘No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel foolish. I would have told you when we first met, but then …’

‘Everything happened.’

‘Everything happened, yeah.’

‘Well. It doesn’t surprise me that Penny Bridge has a plan.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That’s what you do, isn’t it? You see the problem and then you figure out how to make it work for you. You’re cool like that.’

‘Thank you for calling my fertility issues “cool”.’

Penny could tell Francesco was rolling his eyes. ‘That’s not what I said, Pen, is it?’

She sighed dramatically. ‘No. I was being cranky and unreasonable again. And also, that was a really clumsy way to tell you. I wanted to back when we were dating, weirdly. I felt like I had a secret from you, but there’s no good time to drop into conversation with someone you’re sleeping with that you’ve got this whole plan to have a baby that couldn’t ever technically involve them. Can you imagine? You’d have run a mile, either because I was bringing up kids so soon or because it’s a massive turn-off.’

‘I wouldn’t have run a mile, Penny,’ said Francesco. ‘Not for either reason. I really liked you.’ Hearing him say that made her heart beat faster, but she didn’t have time to register it because he kept talking. ‘I’m glad you’ve told me, okay?’

‘Thank you for knowing the right thing to say.’

‘Listen, I’m at my appointment so I’ve got to go. I’ve got a job interview. I don’t know how much longer I can be at Anthony Farrah’s. I need something new. He’s driving me mad.’

‘Okay. It’s good that you’re being proactive. I know you’ve been wanting a change for ages. Good luck! And sorry again for being a grumpy grump.’

‘Thanks for telling me what you did. I’m honoured you’d trust me with it.’

Penny pulled a face. ‘Friends share their secrets, so …’

‘So,’ he finished. ‘I’m glad I am a friend who you trust.’

‘You are,’ she said. ‘Call me later to tell me how this interview goes?’

‘Will do,’ he said. ‘Love ya!’

Penny took out her ear buds like they were on fire. Had Francesco just said, I love you?

Penny saw Thomas a handful of times before the day arrived for him to leave for the tour. She’d loved his company and she loved, in a funny way, that she had totally misjudged him and every time they’d spent time together there was something else that he revealed about himself that surprised her. She liked being surprised, and he was a kind man with a very good heart. He’d really made a difference to her past couple of weeks with his jokes and adventures.

‘We’ll text, or do those voice notes you’re obsessed with,’ he’d said, before he left. ‘Or, even better, you can come out and see me.’

Penny had kissed him intensely and replied, ‘Let’s not promise each other anything, okay? It’s fine. It’s more important to me to be surprised by staying in touch than disappointed if we don’t. Just let me know when you’re back in Havingley.’

‘Okay,’ Thomas had agreed, ‘I’m definitely back in the new year, once these December gigs are done and we’ve finished the Asia dates. But you really should come to one of Lizzo’s London shows.’

‘Let me know,’ she said, vaguely, because she knew he’d be in bed with somebody else by the end of the week, if not by that night. It was in his nature, and he’d told her as much right from the start. It made her think of Francesco. They were friends who’d been lovers and gone back to friendship, and knowing him was one of the pleasures of her life. She could be friends with this lover, too – only, with Thomas, she’d leave the sexual door open for his return because she’d always known this is how it would end, and that’s what made it possible.

‘Everyone deserves a bit of fun! And I just like the sound of him!’ Sharon had said on a quick FaceTime. ‘All I’m saying is, don’t cut your nose off to spite your face. I love that he’s making you appreciate more about where you’re from, and showing you all this stuff you can enjoy that you can’t get in London.’

‘Me too,’ Penny had agreed. ‘He’s certainly been … unexpected.’

‘Exactly. You can pick up the phone on his return without pining for him in his absence.’

That had made Penny grin widely. ‘I wonder if this is the kind of advice you’ll give Mia.’

Sharon looked very serious. ‘You bet your ass it will be!’ she replied. ‘I don’t want her staying home waiting for the phone to ring. My girl is gonna be a go-getter! Exactly like her Auntie Penny.’

‘Hey,’ Penny said, as she headed back from Thomas’s house to the pub for service. Francesco’s face was on her screen. ‘How are you today?’

‘I’ve done something,’ Francesco replied.

‘Okay …’ said Penny, wandering down the back lane that connected to the high street, her big winter coat protecting her from the day’s frost.

‘I’ve quit my job.’

Penny’s mouth fell open. ‘You quit? Is that because you got the job you applied for?’

‘Not exactly …’

‘You quit without another job to go to?’

‘I did!’

‘Oh, damn. That’s … ballsy. I know you’ve wanted to leave for a while, so I guess I say congratulations?’ She passed the butcher’s and lifted a hand to wave in. She was enthusiastically greeted in return.

‘Yes, you say congratulations!’ Francesco screamed. ‘I’m free!’

Penny giggled. ‘But what happened?’ She passed by two of her regulars and said hello to them, too.

‘Life happened, that’s what,’ Francesco said. ‘I just couldn’t do it anymore. Ever since we started talking again I was just reminded how you live properly. You’re so positive and sure of what you want. And it makes me want to be more like that. I don’t just want to exist, you know? And Anthony Farrah, the way he runs that kitchen … it’s not right. The whole atmosphere is full of fear because of his ego. I couldn’t bear it even one second longer. Not even half a second longer. I was really bummed when I didn’t get that other pastry chef job, but I figure it won’t be long before I do find something. I’ve got some savings. I’ll be fine. So I did it! Urgh, I feel GREAT.’

He sounded almost manic.

Penny saw Priyesh, the wine merchant, drive past in his Land Rover, and nodded her head in greeting. Hot, was the word that slipped to the front of her mind, before she could remedy her faulty thinking. Boring, she corrected herself. ‘What’s the notice period?’

‘Well, that’s the incredible thing. He wants me gone. He’s paying me for the next month but doesn’t, he says, ever want to see my smug Italian face ever again. He was quite shouty, but I didn’t mind. I just wanted to be out of there!’

‘A paid month off work,’ Penny said, sighing. ‘And at Christmas, too. Imagine that.’

‘And so …’ Francesco said. ‘I was thinking that maybe I could finally come and visit? What do you think?’

‘Visit?’ Penny said. The pub was in view now.

‘Yeah! We talk every day, I know, but that’s not the same as actually hanging out, as seeing you. And now I’ve got all this time …’

‘I have the Christmas party,’ Penny said.

‘After that, then?’ Francesco replied. ‘It’s the day after tomorrow, right? I could come at the end of the week. I can even help out a bit if you need it.’

‘Well,’ Penny said, not sure of how all this was making her feel. ‘Sure. Okay then. You could definitely show Paul a thing or two. Bring your knives with you, just in case.’

‘Great,’ said Francesco. ‘I’ll figure out what’s what and text you. I can crash with you?’

‘Of course,’ said Penny, thinking to herself: Don’t shag him. Don’t you dare shag him! He is your friend! Do. Not. Shag. Him! ‘There’s a spare room.’

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Charlie said, from where they were hanging bunting in the corner of the bottom bar.

‘It’s Francesco,’ said Penny, taking off her coat. ‘He wants to come visit.’

Charlie cackled. ‘That prick wants to come to The Red Panda? Amazing. I literally cannot wait to meet him. The way you talk about him is like he’s a mix of Brad Pitt and Colin Firth and maybe a sprinkling of Hugh Grant but also maybe with an edge of …’ They considered this next bit carefully. ‘Severus Snape? In a hot way.’

‘He’s just my friend, though,’ said Penny, quickly. ‘God, please make me not want to shag him. He really did me over, Charlie! But I cannot emphasize enough just how handsome he is, and how good his cooking is, and how much just the smell of him makes me want to jump his bones.’

‘Well, if you need something to turn you off him, you could just ask about … you know.’

‘Yeah,’ said Penny, reaching up to where Charlie was trying to tack a wreath.

‘Oh,’ said Charlie. ‘Thank you.’

‘I don’t know why I’ve never asked him about it,’ Penny said. ‘When we started talking I just … avoided it. Do you think that’s weird?’

Charlie hopped down off the chair and started wading through a box of Christmas ornaments.

‘Yes and no,’ they said. ‘If it had all happened last week, okay fine, maybe then you’d ask because it’s fresh. But it’s been what? Six months? Seven? And you live a hundred miles apart, and – does he know you’re just friends? Does he think this is the gateway to something more?’

‘No,’ said Penny. ‘He knows about Thomas, and we’d agreed to just be friends as soon as I knew I was leaving. Even before … the other thing.’

‘The other thing that he doesn’t know you know about.’

‘And so, that’s all the evidence I need not to go back there, isn’t it? My instinct was obviously right all along. He was never as committed to me as I was him.’

Penny picked up a lilac Christmas ornament. ‘How did this end up in here?’ she said, holding up a stained-glass dome with a snowman set inside it. ‘My mum got this for Clementine, I think, at Nottingham Goose Fair. I remember it.’

‘This is just what David has every year.’

‘I’ll take this one,’ said Penny, casting her eye over what else was in the box. ‘I’ll give it to Clem.’

‘No worries,’ said Charlie. ‘And Penny? It’s nice that you’ve got a friend. You light up when you talk with him, and since you’ve reconnected you’ve seemed loads happier. Don’t overthink it. He really can just be your pal. You’re grown-ups.’

‘You’re right,’ said Penny. ‘My pal. My pal is coming to visit! You’re going to love him, Charlie. Everybody does.’

‘As long as you’re not secretly in love with him,’ Charlie said, distracted by the next task of setting up the nativity scene. Penny didn’t reply. She was pretty sure she wasn’t. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing a person could hide, was it? No. They were in friendship, not love.

On 1st December, Penny had the Christmas party to distract her from Francesco’s imminent visit and Thomas’s recent departure. It was held at the pub so that they could do what they wanted, but catered and waiter-ed by an external company so she hadn’t had to worry about any of that – she could, for the first time in too long, simply enjoy herself alongside everyone else. It was bound to be a crazy festive season, and so this was her last chance to really throw caution to the wind before everybody else’s celebrations threatened to overwork her, and her staff.

‘No way,’ Penny said as she held court with her kitchen crew, waiters from the catering company walking by with mini Yorkshire puddings stuffed with tiny pieces of beef. ‘Who in their right mind would put their socks on before their trousers? That makes no sense!’

Manuela clicked her tongue and Ollie, the pot-wash, said, ‘What! Of course you do socks before trousers! Think about it: the sock sits underneath the trouser, so you want to make sure it’s pulled as high up the leg as possible, and to do that you need a bare leg.’

‘I’m with him on this one,’ Manuela said, like it was the most serious issue she had ever been given the task of weighing up. ‘It’s crazy to try and put on socks once your trousers are on. What if you’ve ironed the trousers and then you have to get them all crumpled?’

Penny was gripping her tummy as she laughed: what had started as an innocent observation was scaling up into world war three.

‘I cannot believe you are all arguing about this,’ uttered Agnieszka. ‘Is this what British people really talk about at parties?’

‘Hey!’ said Manuela. ‘I’m Filipino!’

‘I’m Dutch,’ said Ollie.

‘I am so bored,’ said Paul, the pastry chef. ‘Shall we do tequila shots?’

There was a rousing cheer that Penny took to mean ‘yes’.

‘Uh-oh,’ Charlie said, nudging Penny’s shoulder right as Manuela handed her a glass. Liquid spilled over onto her hand and Penny automatically went to lick it off. The strength of the booze made her tongue tingle. Around them, the lights twinkled and the glasses clinked and everyone was scrubbed up and dressed to the nines. Penny was having a really lovely time. ‘Your man Priyesh is here.’

Penny watched him as Charlie walked across and kissed him on each cheek. His shoulder-length black hair was thick and silky, teasing his shirt collar. He had a small amount of silver flecked in it, and it shocked Penny all over again that he was so attractive. His snooty voice didn’t match up with his face, and the way he carried himself.

She studied him as he approached and Charlie said, ‘Penny – you remember Priyesh, our wine merchant.’

Priyesh stuck out a hand. ‘Thank you for the invitation this evening,’ he said. ‘Your hospitality is most appreciated.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ Penny replied. ‘Please, eat. Drink. Be merry.’ She gestured around the room, almost knocking empty glasses off a tray that passed by them.

‘You’re very kind. And maybe if we get a moment I can pick your brain about what you found in the cellar recently. I heard you had quite the excavation down there. I’d love to know what bottles you found.’

He was a formal man. Penny was used to Thomas, who filled the space he occupied with both his belongings and his personality. Priyesh, on the other hand, was compact. Though he was tall, and impeccably dressed, he was totally self-contained, like nothing about him was an accident. It was all purposeful and deliberate. Uptight might be another word for it.

‘Absolutely,’ soothed Penny. ‘Once I’ve done the rounds? Hostess duty calls.’

‘Of course,’ he nodded. ‘Lovely to see you, anyway.’

He did a slight bow as he stepped away, which Penny mimicked before turning to Charlie and uttering in hushed tones, ‘That truly is a man with a stick up his arse.’

‘Bless him,’ said Charlie, already tipsy on a Champagne cocktail. ‘Let’s see if we can’t get him shit-faced, loosen him up a bit.’ They followed him, calling, ‘Priyesh! Where’s your drink! Let me top you up!’ At least Charlie could see the funny side of him being there. Penny made a mental note to avoid him, and gratefully accepted another shot from the pot-wash.

Penny wasn’t far off being drunk as the night wore on. She hadn’t lost control of herself by any stretch of the imagination, but she felt loose and free, happy to be amongst these new faces that were strangers at the start of the year and now the people she spent almost every waking minute with.

‘I trust you’re having a good night,’ a voice droned behind her, unexpectedly making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Priyesh. She turned around. Had he got cuter-er? Or was that the French 75’s she’d been downing? Either way, inexplicably she wasn’t sorry he’d found her.

‘Hello, squire,’ she said, not quite sure why she was calling him that, except to sort of take the mickey of his formalness. ‘Are you having an enjoyable evening?’

‘Not as enjoyable as I suspect yours is,’ Priyesh replied, acknowledging the empty glass in her hand. ‘But pleasant enough, of course.’

‘You don’t like my party?’ Penny asked, in a way that she intended to be sexy and provocative but, well – over the din of her merry staff and the live band, she couldn’t be sure she was succeeding.

‘Not at all, your party is most convivial,’ Priyesh replied. ‘Quite like the hostess.’

‘I’m not drunk,’ said Penny, defensively.

‘You must try harder, then,’ suggested Priyesh, nodding in that formal way he insisted on and walking off towards the loos. ‘I rather thought you’d be a bit more relaxed than you were an hour ago,’ he shouted as his parting shot, over his shoulder.

Penny stood and watched him go. Had he just been rude to her? She couldn’t tell. What a bastard if he had been, she thought. He was her guest! How dare he! What was it about pompous men that made them bring out the pompousness of everyone they interacted with? She followed him towards the back of the pub.

‘Hey!’ she said, as he went through the door into the seldom-used front porch. To the right was a locked front door, and to the left two other doors, the toilets.

‘Hello there,’ said Priyesh, cool as a cucumber. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Of course I’m okay,’ said Penny, primly.

‘Well that’s good to hear,’ Priyesh said. ‘Because for a moment there it sounded like you were going to shout at me for something.’ He spoke smoothly, unruffled. Penny found it incredibly irritating.

‘Shout at you?’ Penny said. ‘Why would I shout at you?’

‘Well,’ Priyesh replied. ‘Exactly. Hence my confusion.’

He pushed through to go into the loo. Penny opened up the door behind him and followed.

‘What’s your problem?’ she asked, peeved. ‘Why are you such a snooty bastard?’

Priyesh smirked. ‘A snooty bastard? My apologies if I’ve come across that way. I appreciate the feedback.’

He simpered sarcastically as he said it, as if Penny’s comment didn’t bother him at all and was almost a ridiculous suggestion.

‘You come in here with your suit, and your hair, and your face,’ Penny said. ‘Drinking my booze—’

‘Well, booze I sold you, technically,’ said Priyesh.

‘Oh … shut up,’ Penny said. She stood in the doorway and Priyesh looked as if he was about to say something, thought better of it, and turned around to the urinal. Penny could only assume that he’d unzipped his trousers because in the next second, she could hear a steady stream of liquid hit the plughole.

‘Oh, nice,’ she said, bizarrely glued to the spot. ‘Really nice.’

Priyesh zipped up his trousers, turned to the sink and washed his hands – with soap – and pulled down a paper towel. He gently flung it to the bin, turned to check his hair in the mirror, and walked up to where Penny was frozen in the doorway, in awe at him. The way he moved, the way he looked at her, the way he walked towards her, it was all like he was a big game cat.

‘You’ve made an awful lot of assumptions about a man you’ve only met a handful of times,’ he said, standing close.

‘Your reputation precedes you,’ Penny said, her breathing uneven. ‘I know all about you.’

‘Oh really,’ Priyesh said, brushing her hair from her neck and letting the very tips of his fingers brush against her collarbone.

Penny swallowed. She couldn’t explain it. This man – he repulsed her, and she wanted him, and she hated herself for wanting him but at the same time life was short and why shouldn’t she do exactly as she pleased? What did it matter?

She tugged at the top of his trousers, pulling his hips closer to her as she looked up at him, deep into his eyes. Neither of them pulled away.

‘Is this okay?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he replied, holding still.

She undid the button to his trousers.

‘Is this okay?’ she said, searching his eyes again, desperate to see if she could get a reaction from him – any reaction.

‘Yes,’ he said again, still composed. Still unflustered.

Penny reached into his underwear.

‘Is this okay?’ she said, and he moaned as she touched him, finally revealing himself to be capable of being unnerved.

‘Yes,’ he sighed.