What You Did - Claire McGowan Page 0,2

the heat seemed to press down on me like a lid, slowing my steps until I was hopelessly behind.

‘Why can’t Dad help?’

‘He’s in his office.’

‘No he’s not, he’s in the garden reading the paper.’

‘Well, can you ask him to check the table’s clean, and wipe the chairs, oh and find some citronella, there’ll be flies.’

‘Ask him yourself, he’s here.’

‘Pick me some herbs!’ I yelled after her, as she slunk out and Mike came in, holding the door open for her to pass.

‘Smells good!’ He seemed cheerful: a relief. He hadn’t been keen on this weekend. It would be too much work, he said, and we didn’t have space for everyone. A four-bedroom house plus a room over the garage, still not enough.

I took a moment to look at him, critically. If this was the anniversary of us starting university, that made it twenty-five years since I’d first seen Mike, across the cavern-like college bar. The easy stance he’d adopted, chatting, while everyone else squirmed and shouted in their awkward first-year way. Five nine, not tall, but enough for me. Some grey now in his dark hair. Today he was wearing a polo shirt and khaki shorts, a cotton jumper in a flaming scarlet colour, despite the rising heat in the garden. That was new, and looked expensive. Trying to impress, just like I was, in my own way.

‘Karen texted me – apparently, you’re not answering. They’re getting a taxi from town.’

‘Oh God, I’m not ready. Why so early?’ I’d planned to pick them up later, on my way back.

He shrugged, reaching out to squeeze the sourdough in its paper bag. ‘Guess she made good time. On the Megabus.’

I ignored his small jibe – it wasn’t Karen’s fault she couldn’t afford the train fare. Although maybe if she’d done what everyone begged her to, from tutors to parents, and resat her Finals, she might have a degree and a better job than doing admin for the council. ‘But I told her I had this meeting! Are the rooms ready?’ I ran through it again in my head. Callum and Jodi in the spare room, Karen in Benji’s, Bill in Mike’s office over the garage, and Jake was insisting on camping for some weird reason of his own. Would it work, all of us piling in on each other?

Mike came up behind me as I stirred the stew, and squeezed my shoulders. ‘You’re so tense I could bounce ten pees off your back. Relax, will you. It’s just our friends, not Come Dine With Me. Karen won’t care if we’re not immaculate.’

But I would. And Jodi was bound to notice, and say something that sounded innocuous, but which I would brood over for days after. ‘Will they need lunch?’

‘It’s after two, I don’t think they’ll expect it. Cup of tea, bit of cake on the lawn, how about it? I’ll hold the fort while you pop out.’

‘But . . .’

‘Ali.’ Mike spun me around, hands on my shoulders, forcing eye contact. ‘Look, there’s no point in doing this if you don’t enjoy it. Is there? So come on, love, take a chill pill, as Cassie would say.’

‘She’d rather die than say something so naff.’

‘Yes, because “naff” is such cutting-edge slang.’

I felt a small ease of the knot in my stomach as we drew apart, our hands moving to tidy and wipe and organise in a well-practised dance. He was right. They were our friends, they wouldn’t expect perfection. It would all be fine.

Outside, I heard the sound of a car on gravel. She was here.

Chapter Two

‘So what happened with—’

‘My awful boss? Still awful. Last week he said we’ll all have to reapply for our own jobs!’

‘No way, that’s outrageous. I’m sure that’s illegal, isn’t it, Mike? Mike?’

He shook his head, like a dog clearing itself of rain. ‘What are you on now? I can’t keep up. I’d need to record the conversation and play it back at normal speed.’

People had always said that about Karen and me, falling away from our chatter, puzzled at how we leapt from topic to topic like monkeys in trees, sometimes returning to a conversation we’d left pinned an hour ago, always seamless. I smiled at her over the table, thinking how young she looked in her tight jeans and vest top, identical to Cassie’s. I was wearing a flowery Joules dress. Frumpy. Mum-like, even though it was Karen who’d been a mother first, at just twenty-five.

Karen rolled her eyes at Mike. ‘We’ve got a lot to