It was almost maddening how easily Francesco slipped into Derbyshire life. Penny had agreed to give him a job after catching Paul trying to pass off a Waitrose cheesecake as his own. It was all very straightforward: Francesco came to visit and charmed everyone with his easy ways and helpfulness and had sat and rubbed Penny’s feet at night after service, telling her over and over what a brilliant job she was doing. Penny had told him she was going to go out with Priyesh, and the foot-rub was merely a friendly one, and Francesco had promised to honour that. The next morning, Penny had caught Paul in the act and asked him how long he’d been doing it – using shop-bought products as his own – hoping he’d say it was a desperate one-off for a reason that would never crop up again. He didn’t. It turned out he’d been doing it for years and, as such, Penny fired him on the spot with a one-week grace period in which he would be paid but not required to show up. He didn’t put up a fight. Francesco found a house for rent in the village, and started that day.
‘I’m Bib Gourmand-level good, you know,’ said Francesco, once it was official. ‘And I know that you’re Bib Gourmand good, too. And the atmosphere here, the décor, the service? It’s going to happen, you know.’
‘Don’t,’ said Penny. ‘That’s not the objective!’ She broke into a smirk. ‘Well, unless it happens, in which case it was in the plan all along. I wish we got alerted if they were coming, or told in advance. It’s so maddening that there’s no way to prepare. Apparently you only know they’ve been if you get a letter after to say they want to give you the award and include you in the guide.’
‘Evening pasta date to celebrate always being ready?’ Francesco said. ‘After service?’
‘You’re cooking, or I am?’ Penny said.
He looked at her. ‘My friend,’ he said. ‘I am, of course.’
‘Just checking you still like me enough to feed me.’ She grinned at him. ‘But … could we do tomorrow? I have a date tonight.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Francesco said, teasing. ‘Lining us all up back to back, are you?’
Penny rolled her eyes. ‘I can cook my own pasta, you know.’
‘No, no,’ insisted Francesco. ‘I can be your second choice. You. Me. Tagliatelle. Tomorrow after service.’
‘It’s a date,’ she said. ‘Well. A non-date.’
Francesco beamed. ‘Penny, it’s cool. I’m just pushing your buttons,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow is fine.’
‘This is beautiful,’ Penny said to Priyesh over the last of their wine at a local country hotel bar. ‘I had no idea this was here.’
‘Well, cheers to discovering new things then,’ said Priyesh, raising his glass to hers. ‘And cheers to that beautiful meal, too.’ He had a twinkle in his eye, and Penny understood exactly which direction the night was rapidly going to go in. He was a paradox: outwardly buttoned-up but underneath cheeky and provocative. She liked it. ‘I’m glad I got a taste of your maple-soy tofu. Never in a million years would I have ordered that myself.’
‘Tofu is so hard to get right,’ said Penny. ‘But I had a feeling they’d smash it here.’
‘I think my starter was my favourite, then your tofu, and then the dessert. I’m such a sucker for anything with passion fruit.’
‘And yet that is my least favourite fruit,’ said Penny.
‘Come on,’ uttered Priyesh. ‘You’re leaving that one wide open to some letchy comment about passion and its place in your life. Don’t make me do that.’
Penny laughed. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘That was short-sighted of me. I shouldn’t put you in any kind of position that means jokes about tropical fruit are on the table.’
‘I appreciate your understanding,’ Priyesh said. There was no denying that Penny was charmed by him.
‘So,’ she said. ‘I know all about how you got into wine because of your sister-in-law, and now I know about your affinity for war dramas, occasional show tunes and that you own two rescue cats that make your furniture smell …’
‘Hey,’ he responded. ‘You’re sworn to secrecy on the show tunes, remember. Nobody else needs to know that I cried at Billy Eliot.’
‘Got it,’ Penny sniggered, a little tipsy. ‘Tell me something that I still don’t know, though,’ she invited. ‘You’ve told me the top-line stuff, but what about your hopes and dreams and fears and loves and losses? You’re this enigma to me – and to everyone at the pub, too. Who is Priyesh … wait. What’s your last name, even?’
Priyesh smiled. ‘Jones.’
‘Priyesh Jones.’
‘You were expecting me to say Singh or Khan, weren’t you? Or Patel?’
Penny looked horrified. ‘No!’ she said. ‘No! Just because you’re …’ she didn’t know the right word. She was terrified she seemed racist, or worse – plain ignorant.
‘It’s okay, I’m just joshing,’ said Priyesh. ‘My mother is from India, and my father is from Coventry. Hence Jones, but with brown skin.’
‘Do you get on with them well, your parents?’
‘I do,’ said Priyesh. ‘I have a lot of respect for them.’
He didn’t ask her about her parents in return, and it occurred to Penny that he must know she didn’t have any.
‘I try to learn from them as much as possible, especially now I’m old enough to appreciate them – which already feels too late, to be honest. I don’t know where I get it from, but I can be very competitive. For a long time I thought it was more important to be right than to be kind, but these last few years I’ve really tried to practise the opposite. It’s more important to be kind than right.’
Penny nodded. ‘I’ve never thought about it that way, but yes, I think I agree. Anybody can be stubborn and hold their ground and get others to bend to their will, but the better person will do the kind thing? Is that what you mean?’
‘Exactly,’ he said, sniffing the Barolo he’d ordered that lurked at the bottom of his fishbowl of a glass.
‘And you said this past few years you’ve learned the difference?’
‘Yeah. Since my divorce, really.’
Penny nodded. He’d mentioned his marriage ending the other day, as well. It was obviously still painful for him.
‘I don’t still dwell on it, for the record,’ Priyesh added, as if he’d read her mind. ‘I’m very removed from the emotion of it, when I talk about how I used to be married. It’s fact to me now: I put my ego before my wife too often, and in the end it cost me. So now I try not to do that. In fact, your uncle was quite the clergyman to me when I was struggling.’
Penny brightened at the mention of Uncle David. ‘Oh yeah?’ she asked. ‘You talked to him about it all?’
Priyesh nodded. ‘I did. He’d cook for me and listen to me feel ashamed of myself. He really gave me his time – and Eric, too. They’re a great couple, aren’t they?’
‘So great,’ grinned Penny. She played with her wine glass as well, mirroring Priyesh without realizing. ‘They met when I was twenty years old, and right from the start it was like the clouds had parted and the heavens smiled upon them and—’
‘And angels sang?’
Penny laughed. ‘Do you know what I mean though? They are so in harmony together, and have so much respect for each other. It never felt that way with my ex, who I met around about the same time. We were together ages but I always knew – had a little niggle in the back of my mind – that it could be better.’
‘Don’t tell me you didn’t get treated like a princess …’ Priyesh said.
Penny shook her head. ‘I don’t need to be treated like a princess,’ she said. ‘I don’t need saving, or rescuing. But I do feel like I made room for him in a way that he didn’t make room for me. Like, if ever there was a spotlight it was implicitly understood that I’d be the one to step back and let him take it. There was never a suggestion that we could share the spotlight.’
‘It’s hard,’ Priyesh acknowledged. ‘Real balance in a relationship is tricky.’
‘Maybe,’ Penny agreed. ‘Or maybe it’s only tricky if you don’t communicate. And I mean constant communication. I think I was a bit guilty of getting mad he wasn’t a mind reader. I could have done better in telling him what I expected. But then, I was so young, I didn’t know how to do that yet.’
‘Ahhhh, the beauty of getting older: knowing thyself.’
‘You seem like you know yourself very well,’ Penny suggested.
‘I think I’m just getting the hang of it at the ripe old age of fifty-one,’ Priyesh replied.
‘You are twenty years older than me. Did you know that?’
Priyesh shrugged. ‘I assumed I was probably closer to David’s age than yours.’
Penny finished what was in her glass.
‘Here,’ Priyesh said. ‘You have this last little bit that’s left.’ He emptied the bottle for her and Penny continued to drink.
‘Does a twenty-year age gap bother you?’ Priyesh asked.
Penny shook her head. ‘No, it doesn’t bother me,’ she said. ‘I mean, this is …’
‘Fun,’ Priyesh supplied.
‘Fun,’ Penny repeated.
‘Is this the point at which we talk about what a great night it’s been, but acknowledge it is such a shame to part so early?’
‘Oh wow,’ Penny giggled. ‘You’re really good at this! So smooth! Those twenty years you have on me mean you’re better at the sexual segue than I am.’
‘Sexual segue?’
‘You’re so about to kiss me.’
‘Am I now?’
Penny batted her eyelashes and didn’t say anything, daring him to prove her right. She was bolder with him than she’d ever dared been in her life. Priyesh leaned in and moved her hair from her neck, exactly as he had done the night of the Christmas party.
‘If I was about to kiss you,’ he whispered, ‘where would I start …?’
His lips met her neck softly, and Penny closed her eyes, breathing deeply.
‘Would I start here?’ he asked. ‘Or here …?’ His second kiss landed at the base of her ear. ‘Perhaps I’d start here,’ he wondered aloud, kissing behind her ear, now.
‘That’s nice,’ sighed Penny.
Priyesh moved his hand to cradle her chin, rubbing his thumb over her lips.
‘Can you kiss me properly now, please?’ she asked.
Priyesh smiled. ‘Only because you asked so politely,’ he mumbled, leaning in.
When they finally pulled apart he said to her, ‘Penny, would you like to come home with me?’
* * *
‘Francesco, there’s a Caroline in the bar for you,’ said Charlie from the doorway of the kitchen.
Francesco looked up from the pastry section where he was lining a dish with shortcrust.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Damn. This needs to go in. Um …’ He glanced across to Penny. ‘Do you mind if she comes in?’ he said. ‘Sorry. I can’t leave this.’
‘No, no, not at all,’ she answered, thinking: Caroline? Who the hell is Caroline?
‘Would you show her in?’ requested Francesco. ‘Thanks Charlie.’
A second later a goddess of a woman stood amongst them.
‘Hey,’ she said, lingering by the sinks. She waved at everyone and smiled.
Francesco looked up at her. ‘Hey,’ he said, motioning that she should come down to where he was working. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Good,’ said the goddess. ‘Hey,’ she said to Penny.
‘Hey,’ said Penny, in a high-pitched voice. Who was this woman?
‘I just wanted to drop this by,’ she said. ‘You left it in my car this morning.’
Francesco’s eyes flickered to the leather jacket and scarf in her hand. His leather jacket and scarf, Penny noted. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’ He was covered in flour and he walked towards her with his hands held up in front of him. ‘Can you ask Charlie to hang them up for me behind the bar?’ he said. He lowered his voice, but Penny could still hear him. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
Penny tried to focus on what she was doing – prepping a parsley and shallot sauce for the cod option for evening service – but from under her eyelashes she watched Francesco bend at the knees to give the other woman a kiss.
‘See you tomorrow?’ he whispered.
‘See you tomorrow,’ the goddess replied, her pearly white smile wide.
As she left Penny said nothing, and Francesco didn’t either. He went back to moulding his edges and, in lieu of conversation, started to whistle.
‘Bit young, isn’t she?’ Penny said, eventually, right as he launched into the chorus of an Ed Sheeran song.
‘Young?’ said Francesco.
‘I mean, no judgement or anything,’ Penny said.
‘I don’t think she’s too young,’ said Francesco, resuming his whistling again. ‘She’s twenty-four.’
‘Uh-huh,’ said Penny, a weird feeling forming in her stomach.
Priyesh was outwardly a gentle man, with a purposefulness to him that meant everything he did was deliberate and considered.
‘I like to take my time,’ he said, as he traced his fingers over Penny’s arm from where they lay in his bed. ‘And truly appreciate the task at hand.’
Penny giggled. ‘I’ve noticed that,’ she said. He’d turned up at the pub the day before and asked to speak with her outside, where, despite the fact that anyone could have walked out to the outdoor fridge at any moment he had pushed aside her apron and put his hand inside her knickers until she came.
Their love-making was erotic and hot and dirty and exactly the kind of sex Penny had held in her mind for years when she thought of what it meant to have ‘good’ sex. After they’d spent their first night together it became a twice-weekly and then three-or-four-times-weekly event. Christmas came and went, and she slipped away to visit Uncle David and Eric and Clementine and Rima for Boxing Day, but then instead of going anyway to sunnier climes Penny spent the whole of her New Year’s break in Priyesh’s luxurious house, half-naked with the fire burning. Uncle David had seemed encouraged that she couldn’t wait to get back – she didn’t have the courage to tell him the real reason for it.
Now, in January, she enjoyed getting away from the pub after service, showering at Priyesh’s big fancy house using the oils and shampoos in his shower and padding into his bedroom barefoot, in a big fluffy dressing gown, smelling clean and fresh. He’d turn the corner of the page of his book, gently take off his reading glasses and set them on his bedside table, and then do filthy things to her for an hour until she slept like a baby curled up beside him.
Penny wouldn’t have called it dating, since most of their time together was confined to the bedroom, but she was definitely fond of him. He was attentive and respectful, and after welcoming in a new month that marked eight months of her leadership at the pub, Penny held tight to the fact that she was over halfway through her commitment. She wouldn’t be here much longer – but in the meantime she was determined to keep finding her pleasure where she could. She felt like she had the best of all worlds – a hot present, and a change in her future. And really, with the age gap, it couldn’t really be much else.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked her one night, as they lay next to each other, naked and recovering.
Penny lazily inhaled and smiled. ‘I was thinking about Uncle David,’ she said. ‘And what he might make of … this.’
‘I see,’ Priyesh replied. ‘Are you intending to tell him?’
‘Not especially,’ said Penny. ‘Unless you think I should?’
Priyesh put a hand out to her thigh. ‘Whatever you think,’ he said. ‘Although, obviously he is my friend, and you are basically his daughter, so there is that to consider. If you are going to tell him, give me a head’s up so I can talk to him too.’
‘Are we doing something wrong, do you think?’ Penny asked.
He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We know what we’re doing, don’t we?’
‘We’re … enjoying ourselves,’ Penny said.
‘Exactly,’ said Priyesh. ‘And for what it’s worth, the extent to which I am enjoying myself is a lot.’
Penny looked at him. ‘Same,’ she replied. ‘But you’re right. There isn’t really anything to tell him, is there?’
‘Not yet,’ agreed Priyesh. ‘I think for now this can still be ours.’
‘If you could be any mythological creature, what would you be and why?’ Francesco asked as he flattened some garlic with the back of his knife. Service had ended an hour ago, and the waitstaff were getting set up for tomorrow’s service before closing down for the night. The kitchen was lit by just a single back lamp, and Penny and Francesco had decided on pasta pesto as a midnight snack.
‘Well,’ Penny mused. ‘Aside from the myth and the legend that is Penny Bridge—’
‘Obviously.’
‘I’d be …’
‘Don’t say a phoenix. You’re better than answering phoenix.’
‘Why can’t I say a phoenix?’
‘Because that’s so basic. Rising from the ashes and all that. Everyone feels like they’ve overcome some past hardship to be a new version of themselves. It’s boring.’
Penny balked. ‘It’s boring when people feel like they’ve overcome obstacles to become who they are?’
‘Yes,’ said Francesco, grating parmesan. ‘Or, it’s boring when they think they’re special because of it. We’re all special. You know?’
‘Harsh,’ said Penny. ‘But I see your point. Tell me more about what you’re doing with those walnuts, please.’
‘Personal question,’ joked Francesco. Penny stood beside him and observed his work, ignoring his comment. ‘I prefer the flavour of walnuts, sometimes,’ he said, ‘instead of pine nuts. It’s very simple,’ he continued. ‘You don’t make pesto?’
‘Of course I make pesto,’ said Penny. ‘It’s just fascinating, isn’t it, to see how someone else does it?’
Francesco fired up the food processor, adding in his own reserve of oil, brought back with him after he saw in the new year with his family in Bologna – it was his uncle’s private supply. He poured it in a steady stream until the pesto was mostly smooth, with just a few flecks of green. He peered inside, satisfied, and added in the salt.
‘How is Uncle David today?’ he said, using his favourite spatula to scrape the mixture out into a bowl. ‘I’d love to visit him at some point. There are so many stories I bet he could tell about this place. He wasn’t exactly in the best way to share all of his hints and tips when we met last time. Plus, I’ve never been to Cornwall.’
Penny thought about it. A trip with Francesco to see Uncle David and Eric down on the coast could actually be really fun.
‘Oh, that’s a great idea!’ Penny said. ‘Maybe Priyesh could come, too. Although, it’s still very casual. Uncle David doesn’t actually know about us since they’re quite good friends and, well. You know. It needs to be dealt with delicately.’ Penny considered it. ‘On second thoughts, taking Priyesh would be a terrible idea. Forget I mentioned it.’
‘Thank goodness,’ said Francesco, emphatically. It took Penny by surprise.
‘What’s your problem with Priyesh? He likes you a lot,’ Penny said. ‘I thought you two got on?’
‘I don’t trust him,’ Francesco said. ‘I’ve never seen him in the same suit twice.’
‘You don’t trust him because he has a varied wardrobe?’ Penny questioned.
Francesco shrugged. ‘I think linguine for this,’ he said, changing the subject.
‘Sometimes I think you act a bit jealous, you know,’ Penny said. ‘Don’t be mad at me for saying that, but I think you do.’
‘I don’t act jealous,’ said Francesco, almost reflexively. ‘Why would you say that? What do I have to be jealous of?’
Penny didn’t know why she’d said it. She wanted him to be jealous, in a way, in the same way she felt jealous that he’d kissed that curly-haired woman, and kept going for drinks with the goddess.
She tried to laugh it off. ‘Just checking you’re not secretly in love with me or anything,’ she said, trying to sound cool. ‘Lesser men have fallen harder you know.’
Francesco looked up at her. ‘I know they have,’ he said, looking at her for a split second too long. Penny’s heart beat in double time. She pulled herself up to sit on the countertop.
‘Thank you for cooking,’ she said. ‘I’m starving.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Francesco, adding salt to a vat of water for boiling. ‘I like to cook for you.’
They continued with their supper like nothing untoward had been said.
* * *
‘Argh!’ cried Penny, clutching at where the towel had clipped her leg. ‘You bastard! That one bloody hurt!’
‘You said not to go easy on you,’ Francesco said, jumping from one foot to the other, the offending weapon in his hand.
‘You’re not normally this good at Tea Towel Warfare,’ Penny said. ‘If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’d been practising.’ She moved her own wrist in circles, like Francesco was doing, so that her damp towel coiled around itself and she could snap in with a flick at Francesco’s legs.
‘Missed me,’ he said, laughing and moving side to side. ‘Missed me again!’ he cheered, almost walking into the pot-wash.
‘Sorry Ollie,’ he said.
‘It’s okay,’ said Ollie.
‘Okay,’ declared Penny. ‘Next one, the loser is responsible for washing up after supper.’
Francesco slowed down. ‘Sorry, I actually have a date,’ he said. ‘I’ve gotta go in five.’
‘You have a date? At 10 p.m.? I didn’t know you were doing that. Dating. I thought you were maybe just … I don’t know. I knew you saw Caroline for a drink or whatever. I didn’t know it was …’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’
Francesco shrugged. ‘I’m not seeing Caroline. I mean, she’s nice and everything. But I was at The Boot with Charlie the other night and got chatting to this girl – this woman – and so I got her number. It seemed like the logical thing to do.’
‘Well good for you,’ Penny said, trying to sound like she meant it. ‘I’ll cook pasta for one, then.’
‘You aren’t seeing Priyesh tonight?’
‘I might do, now, actually. I guess I’d started to think of Tuesday night as our night, or something. I’m being silly.’
Francesco studied her. ‘Okay, well.’
‘Well,’ Penny repeated, and Francesco put down his tea towel, their game over. Penny knew she should wish him a nice night, but she didn’t.
Movie night? Priyesh texted Penny, a bit later.
You know what? Penny texted back. I’m actually truly exhausted. Later in the week?
Sure, he typed back. Can I drop anything by? Candles? Hot water bottle?
You’re sweet, said Penny. But I’m good, I think.
Penny retired upstairs to the flat, commandeered candles from the living room, ran the hot tap on full, and the cold tap just a little, and located her Jo Malone bath foam instead of the usual Radox. It felt like a Jo Malone bath foam kind of a night. She said a small prayer for sisters with big salaries and generous gift-giving tendencies.
Soaking in the tub, listing to Matthew McConaughey reading a bedtime story, she examined her feelings. She’d felt funny when Francesco said he was going out on a date, and she wondered what he might be doing right now, and who with. Surely he wasn’t laughing with this other person the same way he laughed with her. As soon as she thought that, though, guilt washed over her – why would she play compare and contrast? She should be thrilled he’d found somebody. She didn’t even know that he and Charlie went to the pub together. He deserved to set up his own life here, after all.
Jealous.
Was she jealous?
She knew she didn’t have any right to be.
Francesco was her friend, and that’s because she’d made it that way. If he wanted to go out for dinner with somebody else, or kiss somebody else, or spend the night with somebody else, that was up to him. It didn’t diminish their friendship. Although, of course, she didn’t really want to know about his sex life, even if he was a friend. She just … didn’t.
She closed her eyes and let the bedtime story wash over her, inhaling the scent and feeling the smoothness of her own skin. Maybe she should have seen Priyesh tonight – she just didn’t want it to be reactionary, like she was using him because Francesco was busy. That didn’t seem fair. Especially when Priyesh continued to surprise her. The sex was potentially the best she’d ever had. He didn’t mind bodily fluids or noises or bumping heads. He was a man totally at ease with himself, no need to ‘prove’ his masculinity like other men Penny had been with. In fact, he didn’t always come when they had sex – he seemed to get pleasure simply from them being together, exploring each other’s bodies. He was patient, and they’d even managed to find common ground over the past two months – she didn’t think he was boring anymore. He was educated and knowledgeable, and endlessly inquisitive, too.
Penny opened her eyes and reached out of the bath, first for a towel to wipe her hands, and then for her phone. She pulled up Priyesh’s number.
No, she advised herself. I can’t call him just because Francesco has a date.
Her finger lingered on the call button.
She put the phone back down.