The Wildflowers by Harriet Evans

Author:Harriet Evans [Harriet Evans]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HeadlinePublisher
Published: 2018-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

1986

Cord had booked the tiny Italian restaurant on a narrow lane off Brewer Street: it was a recommendation of Professor Mazzi’s. After the arthritic waiter had cleared the coffee cups – all four of them self-consciously drinking espresso and saying how much they liked it – he brought four thimble-sized glasses filled with a cloudy yellow liquid to the table. Only Hamish knew what it was.

‘It’s limoncello,’ he said, giving a thumbs-up to the restaurant owner, who stood behind the swing doors in the kitchen, watching for their reaction with almost comic anxiety. ‘Thank you! Oh, it’s delicious.’ He smiled at Cord; they had a joke that he liked old-lady drinks: sherry, crème de menthe. ‘I first had this in Naples when I was filming a swords-and-sandals epic. I had one line, Sire, the phalanx won’t hold. I got the giggles each time I had to say it and eventually the line got cut. I was devastated. But there was a lovely restaurant in a tiny piazza near our hotel and the owner’s wife was Scottish. Cheers.’ He raised his glass, as the others laughed.

‘Stop!’ Cord put her hand to his mouth. ‘Don’t drink. We should make a toast. Happy birthday, Mads.’

Mads shrank back into her chair, as the others pushed their glasses together. ‘Oh, no,’ she said, tipping her head forward so her hair covered her face. ‘I hate birthdays.’

But Ben tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed the ear, gently. ‘Come out of there, Mads.’ He put his arm round her. ‘We should make a toast—’

‘Yes,’ said Cord. She reached over and took her friend’s hand. ‘Happy birthday, darling Mads.’

As they clinked their glasses together, the operatic aria playing in the background swelled to a climax, and they all smiled at each other, and drank. It’s so easy, the four of us together, Cord found herself thinking, and the back of her neck prickled, and her head ached.

‘Is that you, Cord?’ said Ben, gesturing towards the record player. ‘She sounds pretty upset about something.’

‘She’s about to throw herself off a building,’ said Cord. ‘Her lover’s been shot.’

‘Fuss fuss fuss,’ said Hamish. ‘She shouldn’t have got together with an artist. They’re the worst kind of boyfriend.’

‘Actors are better, then. OK.’

‘Oh, yes. Very reliable. Steady income. Normal-sized ego. My advice to anyone seeking a life partner is – go with an actor.’

Cord laughed, squeezed his thigh. He took her hand, held it tightly in his.

‘The three of you, and Tony and Althea, with your strange occupations,’ said Mads. ‘I’d like to point out I’m the only one who has an actual job.’

‘You got a job?’ said Cord. ‘Where? That’s wonderful.’

‘Yes!’ Mads grinned. ‘At Rolls-Royce. I start next month after we’re back from Australia.’

‘You’re going to Australia?’ Cord said, not sure if she’d misheard.

‘Yep. We’re going to visit Aunt Jules. She wants to meet Ben.’ Ben nodded, Mads nodded in sync and Cord thought how alike they seemed these days. Their blonde hair the same colour, their eyes –

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