would have been nicer to eat dinner with her here. The high ceiling was hung with dozens of tiny lights shaded by hurricane glass, suspended at different heights. The floor was wood, the walls were whitewashed, the ceiling was bisected by huge wooden beams, and the enormous brick chimney at the end of the room reminded you that there was a pizza oven on the other side. The whole place was warm, intimate, casual, and just a little noisy, so you’d have to lean close across the table to hear each other. A couple glasses of rich red wine, watching Daisy having to lick the corner of her mouth to catch all the delicious bits of molten mozzarella, and carefully not looking down the scoop neckline of her still-damp T-shirt? That was an evening that worked for me.
Except, of course, that we weren’t doing it. I collected my boxes with a “Cheers,” and asked her, “Ready to go?”
She said, “Ah, Gray?”
“Yeh?”
“Who did you invite to this dinner? A rugby team?”
I thought, What? And tried to sort out what she could possibly have seen. It wasn’t like I had framed jerseys on the walls, or my World Cup winner’s medal, either. I wasn’t much for memorabilia. You didn’t get ahead in life by looking behind you.
She gestured at the flat boxes and white plastic bags. “Four pizzas? And what else?”
“Oh.” I laughed. Relief, that was, although why? Eventually, she was going to find out.
Later. Later worked. “Nah,” I said. “If it’s their first time having pizza, shouldn’t they get to try every kind?”
“Here,” she said, attempting to take the bags from me. “I’ll get it.”
“No, I’ve got it,” I said, not letting go. “You can get the door.”
She sighed. But she got the door.
Daisy
I ate so much pizza.
What is it about pizza that gets you so relaxed? Maybe that you eat it with your hands, or that it’s so incredibly delicious if it’s good, and so satisfying. All that cheese. Or, possibly, that I was in Gray’s mum’s dressing gown again, as I’d had to wash all my clothes again, and Gray had opened a bottle of Two Paddocks Pinot Noir. It said “Proprietor’s Reserve” on the label, which sounded pretty flash.
He tipped the cherry-red liquid into five stemmed glasses, then lifted his and said, “Cheers.”
Obedience said, “It’s alcohol,” and stared at it like snakes would arise from the bottle to devour her.
“Yeh,” Gray said. “Taste of freedom, eh.”
Fruitful said, “Well, I’m going to try it.” She grabbed her glass and took a gulp like she was drinking grape juice, then got a horrified expression on her face, set down her glass with so much haste, a bit of wine slopped over, and hobbled as fast as she could to the kitchen sink. When she came back, I’m afraid Gray and I were laughing, and his mum was smiling, too.
Honor, her name was, and she’d been perfectly happy to have pizza and wine for dinner with her son. He’d kissed her at the door when she’d come in from work, and given her a cuddle that may have been the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. He’d also lifted her off her feet, which was impressive.
I told Fruitful, “You do a toast first. Like this.”
I lifted my glass, and the others did the same. Except for Fruitful, who said, “I thought it’d be nice, as it’s so sinful and all, but it’s … it’s just horrible.”
Gray and I started to laugh, and we couldn’t stop. I had to lean against him, in fact. His shoulder made a very nice resting place for your head. Solid, and all that.
Honor said, “Never mind, love,” proving that she was a better person than me, or possibly just not as hysterical. “It’s an acquired taste, and nobody says you have to acquire it. You can drink water instead. Just lift your glass and clink it against mine and say, ‘Cheers,’ and then Daisy can drink yours after she drinks her own.”
“Dunno,” Gray said. “Daisy’s pretty little. She could get a wee bit tipsy, two glasses of this stuff. Who knows what decadence may happen then?”
I sighed. “I’d so like to tell you that I could drink you under the table, but I suspect it’s not true.”
“I suspect you’re right,” he said. “Could be fun to try, though. But we should do a different toast, shouldn’t we? Special occasion. First dinner.”
I held up my glass and said, “To freedom.” Gray and Honor echoed me, and I told