Mara had made one beautiful place setting and wanted Tess to ruin it.
“Go on,” she said. “Sit down. Pretend you're hungry.”
Tess pulled out the kitchen chair. On the pale cloth lay a folded napkin, a little card with her name, three pieces of cutlery and a stem of something that had already dropped green bits onto the plate.
“I am hungry.”
“That's useful. Do whatever you'd normally do.”
Tess put her bag down, caught the trailing cloth with her knee and dragged the fork into her lap.
“Not that,” Mara said.
The fork hit the floor. They looked at it. Tess kept her hands folded in front of her like an obedient schoolchild until Mara began to laugh.
“This is why Ben says we should just have paper napkins.” Mara rescued the fork. “Don't tell him. He'll be pleased.”
“I could hold everything very still at the wedding.”
“For five hours?”
Tess made her eyes wide and lifted her chin. She tried to smile without moving any other part of her face. Mara laughed harder, then pressed her floury wrist against her mouth.
The kitchen window was open. Monday evening air moved the card on the table, and from the street below came the squeak of somebody wheeling a bin. Tess had come straight from work. She still wore her shoes, one of them rubbed her heel, and until a minute ago she had been carrying the dull feeling of having answered other people's questions all day. Here she could put her bag on the floor and sit badly and be wanted anyway.
“Take your shoes off,” Mara said. “I'll give you the ugly one.”
On the counter stood a tray of small rolls. One was wider and flatter than the rest, with a deep crack across its middle. Tess reached for it, but Mara knocked her hand aside with a clean elbow.
“Not yet. It's dough.”
“You said you'd give it to me.”
“When it's food.”
Tess slipped off her shoes. Under her sore heel the cool kitchen tiles felt wonderful.
She moved the little green stem out of the way and picked up her name card. Mara had written TESS in careful capitals. Below it was a smear where the ink had run. There were eleven days after this one to get everything ready before the wedding, and Mara had spent the last three evenings trying to decide what the tables ought to look like.
“I like the card,” Tess said.
“You have to. It's your name.”
“I like how important I look.”
Mara put down the flour bag and came to inspect her work again. Her engagement ring shone as she rested her hand on the counter: a gold band, an oval green stone, two small clear stones beside it. Tess had seen it hundreds of times. Today, in the light from the window, the green looked almost bright enough to shine through.
“Can I try it?” she asked.
Mara glanced down at her own hand, then at Tess's.
“You always get it stuck.”
“Once. And I got it off.”
“With washing-up liquid.”
But she slipped the ring off and held it out. Tess put it on her left hand. It stopped comfortably above her knuckle. She spread her fingers on the table, beside the place card.
For a moment it looked like a photograph somebody else might have taken of her life.
“There,” Mara said. “Now try washing that fork.”
Tess drew her hand away from the sink and studied it once more. The ring wasn't large. That made it easier to imagine wearing it on an ordinary Tuesday, tapping a keyboard, paying for groceries. She turned her wrist.
Mara held out her palm.
“Give it here. I'm not wrestling you over the drain again.”
Tess took it off. Mara dropped it into the blue eggcup on the shelf above the counter, where she put it when she was kneading or using glue. Then she tipped the last dough onto the worktop.
“Wash your hands. You can do the next tray.”
Tess loved this part. Not the rolls particularly; she was no better at them than at most other useful things. She loved the small certainty of being given a piece of what Mara was doing. Mara pushed half the dough toward her and stood beside her instead of watching.
They rolled and cut. Tess's pieces came out lopsided. Mara tucked the worst one underneath itself and showed her how to cup her palm.
“Like this.”
Tess tried. Flour drifted onto the toe of her black sock.
“Better,” Mara said.
“Mine could go at the back.”
“They're for us. Who's inspecting?”
When the trays were in the oven, Tess went looking in her canvas tote for the spool of narrow ribbon she had bought. She could feel it through the side of the bag but couldn't reach it from inside. The pale cotton lining hung loose at one corner and seemed to swallow whatever she needed.
“Here.” Mara put her hand in. “Hold the outside.”
Tess pinched the canvas around the spool. Mara teased the cotton up with two fingers, found the opening and pulled the ribbon free. Something small and dark came out with it.
“Your button.”
“Oh. That's been gone for weeks.”
“It hasn't gone anywhere. It's been in your bag.”
Mara fetched a little tin from the bathroom cupboard and opened it for her. Tess dropped the grey coat button among the spare hair clips. Mara put the tin away, shook out the loose lining, then returned the bag to the floor with its faded orange handles folded over.
They tried the ribbon around the napkin. It looked stiff. Without it, the napkin sagged. Tess tucked the card under the fork and moved the plate forward. Mara moved it back.
“Stop improving it after I've improved it.”
Tess stood behind the chair and did her rigid wedding smile again.
“Welcome,” she said, barely opening her mouth. “Please don't touch anything.”
“You can't do that on the day. I won't be able to keep a straight face.”
“I'll stand at the end of the aisle.”
Mara caught her around the waist and pulled her away from the chair. For a few seconds they stumbled across the kitchen together, Tess still holding the foolish smile. Then the oven timer went off and Mara let her go.
Tess leaned against the counter, happy and slightly breathless. She had missed doing this with Mara. For months every visit had come with a list, and sometimes Tess had left feeling as though she had been useful rather than company. Tonight there was supper, and the ugly roll was hers, and Mara was grinning as she opened the oven.
“Butter,” Mara said. “Before they cool.”
Tess fetched it. Mara put her ring back on, tore the cracked roll in two and gave Tess the bigger piece.
It burned her fingers. She ate it anyway, standing close enough that their shoulders touched.
Her phone buzzed in the bag.
She left it there.
While Mara was pouring soup, Tess bent to get it.
Cal's name was on the screen.
For a second she couldn't read the words beneath it.
Back in town. Properly this time. Saw the riverside place is still open. How are you?
“What?” Mara asked.
Tess hadn't made a sound. At least, she didn't think she had.
She turned the phone toward her.
Mara set the ladle down. “Oh.”
“Apparently he's back.”
“I can read that.”
“He could have said before.”
“He's saying now.”
Tess took the phone back. She had imagined Cal sending a message for so long that the real one seemed badly written. No apology. No careful explanation. Just a café and a question, as though he could step back into an ordinary evening with her.
Her soup was waiting on the table.
“Come on,” Mara said. “Tell me after you've eaten.”
Tess sat at the good plate. This time she kept her knee away from the cloth.
She typed Fine. Busy with the wedding and looked at it.
Then she deleted Fine.
Mara pushed the butter dish between them, and Tess put the phone face down beside her name.