“Likely to be late, is he?” asked Dan as he shuffled dishes in front of the oven.
“I doubt it,” said Laure.
They were having Sanjay and his girlfriend, plus Eliot and his lodger Daisy.
The dinner party was all Dan’s fault. “You know what your trouble is?” he’d told Laure one morning when she was feeding Jack. “You don’t see enough people.”
“I see lots of people.”
That was arrant nonsense. Good word, arrant. “I’m not counting the health visitor and the mums at toddler group. Which you hardly ever go to.”
“That’s because I don’t want Jack to catch all those viruses.” By which she meant every single virus in existence, and then some.
“Let’s have people to dinner. Soon. I’ll cook.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish