Page 5 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

She swallowed a large mouthful of wine. ‘Thanks for suggesting lunch; I’d planned on spending the day on my own, thinking about how Jen and I would have celebrated her birthday. It means a lot to me that you were thinking of her too.’

Liz’s stomach lurched as she registered his blank expression. He had no idea what day it was. How could he have forgotten? She was so disappointed that she could almost taste it. If that was the case, why were they both here? What was this lunch all about?

Mike recovered quickly, his brown eyes soft with sympathy. ‘Of course. Today must be hard for you. For all of us. Dear Jen.’

His fake sincerity infuriated her. At that moment, Noah appeared with Mike’s drink, giving Liz a chance to compose herself.

‘Come off it,’ she said, draining her glass once Noah had gone. ‘You forgot about it. It’s written all over your face. But now I’ve reminded you, please do the decent thing and call your daughter. Clare needs your support: she’s looking after Ivy on her own, trying to hold down a big job. She’ll be missing her mum terribly today.’

Clare was Jen’s only daughter, but Mike also had Skye, who was younger by five years. Liz was godmother to both. Mike hadn’t been a great father to either of them as far as she was concerned.

‘I know all that,’ Mike said tetchily. ‘But I also know Clare; she’ll be fine, she can cope with anything, that girl. Top-up?’

Liz didn’t reply. She looked at him, marvelling at how dense he could be. No one who had lost their mother suddenly and became a mother herself while still in the grip of grief could possibly be fine. Surely, he must realise that.

Mike lifted the bottle out of the ice bucket and looked pointedly at the amount of wine already gone. ‘Good grief, Liz, I was only ten minutes late.’

She flushed. ‘Whoops. It’s fatal when the waiter tops up your glass; it’s impossible to keep track of these things.’

‘Luckily, our food is here,’ said Mike, sitting back as Noah set their plates down for them. ‘Would you like some bread to soak up the wine? Can’t have you going back to work tipsy, can we?’

‘I am not tipsy!’ Liz was mortified. Noah took the hint and slipped silently away. ‘And even if I was, it wouldn’t matter. I’m not working for the rest of the day.’

‘Really? On a Friday?’ Mike flicked his napkin and settled it on his lap. ‘I thought you’d be rushed off your feet now holiday season has started. The bookings must be pouring in.’

‘Not exactly.’ Liz’s chest tightened.

She contemplated confiding in him. It would be a relief to get it all out in the open, tell him how she felt. About how running the business without Jen held no appeal, so she’d let it slide. How she was torn between walking away from it and feeling duty-bound to stick at it, for Jen’s sake. About how small her life had become; how lonely she was without Jen brightening up her days.

Mike tipped the smallest amount of dressing over his salad and eyed her beadily. ‘Come on, old thing, spit it out.’

‘Do you ever think about retiring?’ she said. ‘Because I do. I’m getting too old for hustling. Negotiating prices. Working unsociable hours. Schlepping to other people’s inadequately equipped kitchens to whip up some culinary wonder. Catering – quite literally – to a customer’s every whim. I’m not sure I want to go on.’

‘Good grief, Liz.’ Mike glanced at the nearby tables as if checking they hadn’t been overheard. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. ‘No way. Retirement is for old folk, and we’re not in that bracket. You and I are in our prime. Anyway, what would you do all day?’

‘Plenty of things.’ She shrugged, not wanting to admit that some days she could barely be bothered to get dressed and leave the house.

Since Jen had died and Liz had pressed pause on the business, she’d realised just how much her life had revolved around work. She hadn’t felt up to filling that gap much in recent months, but as soon as she did, she was going to make herself a priority. A partner was number one on the list. If Viv could do it, so could she. She missed being needed, and she missed being someone else’s significant other. Liz had a lot of love to give, always had, it was getting the right person to notice her, that was the issue.

‘This fish is melt-in-the-mouth, try it,’ said Mike, adding casually, ‘besides, I couldn’t afford to retire if I wanted to. Not right now. Bit of a cash-flow situation, to be honest.’

‘Oh Mike, I’m sorry.’ She removed a bone from her fish and set it on one side. ‘I assumed business was booming.’

He dismissed her concern with a shake of his head. ‘The company is fine. I’ve got a great new assistant, Harriet, who’s keeping me on my toes. It’s my personal finances that are taking a bit of a hit.’ He paused and stared at his plate. ‘The thing is, Liz, I need you to repay me that loan I gave you and Jen to set up the catering business.’

She blinked at him, horrified. That twenty thousand had been a loan? Adrenaline shot through her; Jen had never told her that. She racked her brains to try to recall the details. ‘There’s no paperwork about it being a loan.’

Mike winced. ‘I know. It was all a bit “back of the envelope” and, if I’m being honest, I wanted the money to fly under the radar, so Frankie didn’t find out at the time.’

‘Ah.’ Liz sniffed. Frankie, Mike’s second wife. The stunning redhead ten years his junior. The one he’d cheated with behind Jen’s back. This was ringing a bell now.

‘Jen promised the two of you would pay me back after fifteen years,’ said Mike.

Which was this year. Liz gulped her wine, no longer caring if he thought she was knocking it back too quickly.

‘I would have asked before now,’ he continued softly, ‘but with Jen’s passing, I haven’t wanted to bring the subject up. But, I’m afraid, I’m going to have to call in my debt. I’ve got some unavoidable expenses coming up and I need cash to pay for them. Shall we say beginning of September?’

Liz felt panic surge in her chest. ‘It’s only six weeks until September. I’m not sure I can do it.’