Page 81 of The Spark

‘Ash tells us you’re moving in together, Neve,’ Juliet says warmly, once we’ve all chinked glasses. She’s demurely dressed, in a lace-edged top and slim, pale trousers. Her manicure looks expensive. I bet she never loses her nails down the back of the sofa like my mum does.

‘Very happy for you both,’ Ed chimes in. I can tell he is kind, like Ash. A good man. The type of person who’d rush into a burning building without a second thought. He and Juliet are sitting across from us with beatific smiles on their faces, as if they can’t quite believe Ash is in the same room as them, let alone introducing them to his girlfriend.

‘Five months,’ says Gabi, shaking her head. ‘I’ve been with Toby longer than that and he still refuses to leave more than a toothbrush at my place.’

‘It’s nearly six, actually,’ Ash says, quietly. And though I don’t have a sibling, I still recognise that compulsion to become a teenager again – to score petty, paltry points – that kicks in whenever a family member happens to hit the right button.

‘That’s probably because your place is in need of – how can I put this? – a little TLC, darling,’ Ed says to Gabi, which makes everyone laugh, even her. It’s clearly a family in-joke. I always wondered what it would be like to have those. I bet my dad and Bev have them. Their own private language, shorthand for, I get you.

‘And because Toby’s – how can I put this? – a bit of a flake,’ Ash says.

Gabi ignores him, throwing a handful of almonds into her mouth, then turning her attention to me. ‘Well, here’s an idea, Neve. You should come round and feng shui my place. Maybe Toby would actually deign to move in, if you worked your magic on it.’

‘Neve’s job is nothing to do with feng shui,’ Ash says. Though he speaks calmly, the tone of his voice has darkened a little. He is slightly gruff with his family, I’ve noticed. Less upbeat than he is in private.

I appreciate the gesture, but he really doesn’t need to wade in on my behalf. I’m well-versed in correcting people who assume I spend my days looking at fabric swatches and overcharging clients for advice on curtains and carpets. It goes with the territory, but I generally find that when people try to put down what I do, it says more about them than it does about me. I smile sweetly at Gabi. I want her to like me, of course – she’s the twin of the man I love – but that doesn’t mean I can’t establish a gentle boundary. ‘If you want to feng shui, there are loads of great books about it,’ I say, as affably as I can. ‘It’s not really my specialism, to be honest.’

This isn’t quite true. If a client was interested in feng shui, I would make it my specialism, fast. But I think Gabi and I both know she has no intention of becoming my client any time soon.

She returns my smile. ‘So. Remind me how you two met.’

‘Well, we kind of knew of each other through work. But we actually met for the first time at an art gallery.’

‘Really? I thought my little brother was allergic to culture.’

‘They’re actually twins,’ Juliet says to me with a smile, reaching over with the prosecco to top us all up, ‘but Gabi’s eighteen minutes older.’

I can tell Juliet is a born peacekeeper, that she’s probably spent the past few days worrying about tonight going well. My heart flexes for what I know instinctively to be her innate kindness, her unconditional love.

‘Ash says you met Toby at Coachella?’ I say to Gabi.

‘Yes, but I’m starting to think that wasn’t such a bright idea. He is a flake, actually. Which I was too off my face to realise when we met, of course.’

Ed gets up to refill the nibbles. Juliet asks what I’m doing at work at the moment. I tell her about the city-centre bistro I’m refitting, and the Suffolk holiday lodges, and my latest project, interior specs for an exclusive development of new-build homes in South Norfolk.

‘And Ash is such a talented architect,’ I finish by saying. ‘You must be very proud.’

‘Oh yes,’ Juliet says. Then, with a laugh, ‘As far as we can make head or tail of what he does.’

‘We’re all medics in this family,’ Ed clarifies.

‘Oh, please no med chat today, Dad,’ Gabi says with a groan. ‘It’s my day off.’

I still can’t quite get my head around the idea of Gabi being a fully qualified doctor, mostly because she has the energy of a rebellious adolescent. She’s exactly how Ash described himself to be, before his accident. I can’t imagine her focusing for long enough to take a single exam, let alone monitor a patient’s vitals during an hours-long operation.

‘Probably a good thing, though, isn’t it?’ Juliet says to Ash. ‘That you never became one too. Four medics around one table might have been a little too much for anyone to handle.’

‘He’d never have lasted,’ Gabi chips in. ‘All doctors need a spark of madness, isn’t that right, Dad?’

‘Well, it definitely helps,’ Ed replies, with a smile.

‘You’re thinking of comedians, there, Gabi,’ Ash says, straight-faced. I can’t work out if he’s annoyed or being dry.

‘Whatever. It applies to doctors too.’ She beams at him, then turns to me. ‘My brother is the exact opposite of mad, you’ll be pleased to know, Neve. He no longer has a single spark of any such thing.’

For dinner, Ed and Juliet have served up a huge spread of Middle Eastern-themed food (I detect Ottolenghi). The dining table – which is huge, and Regency mahogany – is piled with bowls and plates bearing heaps of glistening vegetables, creamy hummus, couscous, roasted meat and glazed fish. There’s easily enough food here for twenty people. It all feels beautifully lavish and delightful and warm. So warm. An occasion like this at my mother’s house would never get beyond aperitifs, with some salted peanuts if her guests were lucky. I can’t remember the last time she put effort into anything.

‘So, Neve,’ Gabi says, as Ed spoons tabbouleh onto my plate, bookending the little mound he’s made with a chicken thigh and prawn skewer. ‘If you had to describe yourself using three words, what would they be?’

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