Page 56 of A Perfect Devon Pub
Her aunt’s voice floated back. ‘Another five minutes, then time for it to cool. Fancy a coffee?’
Fiona closed her book and wandered into the kitchen. ‘How did you get on with Rose?’ she asked.
Ivy tutted. ‘She interviewed Kim before me. That poor girl was shaking like a jelly so when I’d finished with Rose, I took her up to Trish’s for a coffee to calm her down.’
Fiona’s eyebrows furrowed. Kim wasn’t her favourite person, but she didn’t like to think of someone in distress, and Fiona didn’t think Kim had stolen the wine, not with ‘Daddy’s wallet’ available for treats. ‘Why was Kim so nervous?’
Ivy held up a warning finger. ‘None of your business.’
‘Ivy!’
‘No. Kim spoke to me in confidence.’
Listening to her aunt fill the kettle, Fiona moaned. ‘Oh Ivy, you and your confidences. You make it sound as if you’re a Catholic priest hearing confession.’
‘I told Rose to hand this drama over to the professionals or drop it or she’s going to start losing staff if she’s not careful.’
Fiona laughed. ‘She won’t lose me; I need the money!’
‘Yes, I told her that.’
Fiona straightened.‘What?’
‘She was worried you might hand in your notice, and I wanted to reassure her.’
‘You told someone who’s investigating a theft that I’m short of money!’
‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ said Ivy. She gave Fiona a playful shove. ‘Off you go. I’ll bring coffee and cake through shortly.’
Fiona slumped back on the sofa and picked up her book. She needed to concentrate. She was almost there now ... just a few more days.
Snuggling down that night, Fiona wrestled with whether to share Ivy’s revelation about Kim with Ru. Kim’s anxiety after her interview provided a new lead, but Fiona didn’t want to suggest that Ru investigate that line. She felt a stab of jealousy, imagining Kim’s reaction if Ru suggested they meet for a walk on the beach, even though it was exactly what she’d done with Josh.
Perhaps it would be better to cancel the morning meeting and study instead? She had achieved virtually nothing today and she could always tell Ru about Kim another time, when there was something else to report – like Fiona being admitted to the CMS. She thumped her pillow into shape and turned the light off. She would sleep on it.
In the morning, Fiona picked up her phone and unblocked Ru’s number. She typed out a message:
I’ve nothing to report, shall we skip?
How should she finish? Her finger hovered over the x button, then she scrolled through the emojis, selecting the female cop.
His reply was swift:
The menemen will be ready in twenty minutes.
Ru signed off with the chef emoji. It was the first message he had ever sent her without a beating heart as a full stop.
Fiona jabbed at the doorbell while stamping her feet up and down for warmth. The second it buzzed, she pushed it open, and the smell of cumin hit her. She glanced up at the flat door – ajar – wondering if he would have cooked simit, the crispy sesame seed crusted bread the Turkish dipped into their breakfast menemen. She bounded up the stairs, pausing briefly at the doorway to watch him unnoticed.
A faint smell of sizzling vegetables filled the air, and she noticed his shoulders relax as he tilted his head, inhaling the aroma with a small, satisfied smile. A sudden wave of nostalgia tugged at her. The simplicity of it all struck her: the way he cared for each step in his cooking, as if each dish was a small act of love.
She remembered how mornings like this used to belong to them – how he’d surprise her with breakfast, moving with the same effortless calm, the same easy warmth that used to make her feel so lucky to be loved and be in love with this man. She wondered if he missed her even a fraction as much as she missed him.
At the stove, Ru started crumbling cheese into a large sauté pan. She could smell yeast and spied a bottle of pomegranatemolasses – she was getting simit.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Two minutes. Make yourself comfortable. I’ve laid the table.’
