Impossible to Forget(28)

‘So, you two,’ Leon said as the three of them stood rather awkwardly in the tidy space, ‘I’d like you to meet Becky. Becky, this is Angie and Maggie, two of my oldest friends.’ As he spoke, he rubbed at the palm of one hand with the thumb of the other and Angie realised, with a rush of affection, that he was nervous. But were the nerves about them meeting Becky or Becky meeting them?

Finally, Becky stood up, but she stayed where she was as if Angie and Maggie were contagious.

‘Hi,’ she said, managing a small, brief smile. ‘Lovely to meet you. Leon has told me so much about you both.’

Angie took her in. She was small-boned and pointy-featured. Her fair hair was very straight and hung around her face, sitting on her shoulders. She was pretty enough, but in a precise kind of way, nothing about her standing out as being unusual or particularly interesting. She wasn’t at all the kind of woman that she would have chosen for Leon, but precisely the kind that Leon would choose for himself.

‘Hi, Becky,’ said Maggie, and walked across to shake her hand. Who did that, thought Angie, apart from Maggie, of course? But Becky seemed perfectly at ease with the gesture.

Leon fussed around getting them drinks, but almost at once Becky excused herself to go and see to the food, leaving the three of them together.

‘Leon, you dark horse!’ said Angie. ‘You didn’t tell us you have a love interest. What happened to the Three Musketeers? One for all and all that?’

Angie was joking, but Leon frowned and shuffled in his seat.

‘Sorry. I was going to tell you, but I wasn’t sure where I stood with her and it felt too soon to make a big deal about it, but then Becky suggested that we invite you over so you could meet. And so, here we all are.’

Ah, thought Angie. That formal invitation made sense now. It had been Becky’s doing. She should have known that Leon wouldn’t come up with something like that on his own.

‘And she’s living here?’ asked Angie. This much appeared clear both from the flat’s transformation and the fact that Becky was now in the kitchen on her own doing things to the food.

But Leon shook his head. ‘No, not yet,’ he said. ‘We’re taking things steady.’

Angie caught Maggie’s eye, trying hard to keep her facial expressions under control. Becky had changed almost everything, and yet she hadn’t even moved in. Poor Leon.

But who was she to judge? The important thing was that he was happy, and he did appear to be that, at least.

The three of them chatted easily, catching up on news until Becky called them through to eat.

The table that stood in the corner of the kitchen and on which they had eaten many a pizza and takeaway curry had also undergone an upgrade of sorts. There was a tablecloth and real napkins, and Leon’s mix-and-match wine glasses all twinkled in the light coming from five tall candles that were dotted around. Angie had to hand it to Becky, who was obviously responsible. It looked amazing.

‘Please sit,’ Becky said. Her smile was a little bigger now. It must just be nerves, Angie concluded, that prompted the slightly aloof aura that she gave off. Angie could forgive her that. It was often a bit awkward, meeting new people, especially people who knew each other as well as they did. It wouldn’t be surprising if she felt a little bit intimidated.

Angie pulled out the chair nearest to her to sit, but Becky shot out a hand to stop her.

‘Not there, please, Angie,’ she said. ‘You’re over there next to Maggie and then Leon is on this side with me.’

Angie had never been told where to sit before and it grated against her rebellious streak, but she didn’t want to cause an atmosphere for Leon’s sake.

‘Okay,’ she said sharply. She moved to the other side of the table. ‘Here?’ she asked, pulling out a chair.

‘That one is for Maggie,’ said Becky.

Angie eyed her coolly, pulled out the final chair and sat down.

‘Glad we’ve got that sorted,’ she said under her breath, and then felt Maggie slap her gently on her thigh.

‘So, it’s watercress soup and melba toast to start with,’ said Becky, handing out bowls carefully. The soup was a rich green with a swirl of white cream across the top. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in a restaurant and Angie had to admit when she dipped her spoon in and tasted it that it was excellent.

‘So, what do you do, Becky?’ asked Maggie.

‘I’m a PA,’ she said. ‘To the managing director of Lutterworths, the furniture shop. You might have heard of them.’

Angie hadn’t, but Maggie nodded enthusiastically.

‘That must be interesting,’ she said.

‘And challenging,’ Becky agreed. ‘There’s far more to being a PA than people realise. It’s a highly responsible position.’

Was she competing with Maggie, Angie wondered? If she was, then she was on a hiding to nothing. Maggie had just been made partner at her law firm, the youngest that there had ever been. There was no way that a glorified secretary had more responsibility than that.

‘And you’re a solicitor?’ Becky said to Maggie.

‘In commercial property,’ replied Maggie. ‘I buy and sell those huge out-of-town developments, for pension funds mainly.’

Becky nodded, but she clearly didn’t want any more detail. ‘And you’re a masseuse?’ she said to Angie, pronouncing it as if she might catch something simply by having the word on her lips.