Vivienne opened the door at quarter past seven with no book in her hand.
“Thank you for coming early.”
The sitting room was ready for the others. Five chairs, cups, a plate of sandwiches. The green chair had disappeared entirely, leaving a pale patch in the carpet.
“Retired?” I asked.
“Being repaired.”
She gestured towards the table. Beside her red notebook lay a printed email.
Helen’s name appeared at the top.
“You found it.”
“Yes. As I said I would.”
I sat without taking off my coat.
“Was there a review?”
“Celia checked the paperwork. She said there had been some duplication between event spending and fund spending.”
“Did Helen accept that?”
Vivienne folded her hands.
“Helen can be difficult when she feels she’s been overlooked.”
“The receipts either match her records or they don’t.”
“I know that, Nora.”
She sounded less offended than tired.
“Then perhaps Priya could look. If everyone agrees and she has time.”
“It isn’t fair to keep asking her to work for nothing.”
That was reasonable. It was also a different objection from whether there was anything to examine.
“Ask what arrangement would be fair.”
Vivienne looked down at the email.
“I’ll speak to her.”
I wanted a date. I had been on the street less than a month, and already I wanted to manage someone else’s promises. I made myself stop at what she’d actually agreed.
“Thank you.”
Vivienne moved the printed email into a folder without offering it to me. I hadn’t asked to take it. Still, I noticed the difference between being told that a document existed and being allowed to understand what had been done about it.
“I hope you don’t think everything here is a committee meeting,” she said.
“I’m beginning to think most things are.”
She smiled, unexpectedly.
“Peter says I could organise a power cut.”
“Could you?”
“I’d certainly have torches.”
We both laughed. It made asking the question harder, not easier. I liked her more when she admitted what she was like. I could imagine how years of liking her might make people reluctant to insist on an answer she didn’t want to give.
She put the folder beneath her chair and stood as the bell sounded.
Celia arrived with Priya, carrying shopping bags. Beth came a few minutes later with the dish Vivienne had lent her, clean and wrapped in a tea towel.
“Dinner was lovely,” she said.
Vivienne brightened.
For a while, it was almost the evening the invitation had promised. Beth described the preview. Priya told us about a client who had submitted photographs of receipts arranged artistically on a table, making half the amounts unreadable.
“Very good lighting,” she said. “No useful information.”
Celia laughed so hard she had to put down her cup.
I took my coat off.
At eight, Vivienne asked whether anyone had a recommendation. I began explaining my novel and managed three sentences before Beth’s phone lit up.
She read the message, turned the screen away from the room and typed.
“Do you need a moment?” I asked.
“No. I’ve just cancelled something.”
She pressed send and put the phone in her bag.
I did not ask what. Later, I would know the message had been sent at four minutes past eight. At the time, it was simply Beth declining to be interrupted.
Celia stood soon afterwards.
“I need to collect George’s present. Won’t be long.”
“Tonight?” Vivienne asked.
“The bookshop’s open late for an event. I said I’d get it while I’m out.”
There had been a collection for George’s birthday, separate from the fund. I remembered coins in an envelope on Saturday and a discussion about whether he liked gardening or merely endured it.
“I’d forgotten,” Priya said. “Did we choose the walking book?”
“Yes.”
Celia reached for her coat.
“Save me one of those.”
She pointed at the sandwiches. Beth moved the plate away from Priya, who protested with her mouth full.
The hall clock showed seven minutes past eight as Celia left. I noticed because it chimed the hour late, a small mechanical complaint Vivienne had mentioned before.
No one thought to write anything down.
We resumed the discussion. Priya disliked the description of my novel’s ending. I told her she had misunderstood it. She said that was quite possible because I had not yet explained it.
Beth laughed. It was good to hear her laughing without checking a screen immediately afterwards.
Then she took out her phone again.
Her expression changed as she read.
“Everything all right?” Vivienne asked.
“It’s dealt with.”
She stood.
“Nora, could you help me with the tea?”
In the kitchen, she leaned against the counter and let out a breath.
“That was Martin,” she said. “We’d arranged for me to get some equipment from the hall.”
“Tonight?”
“I cancelled. I decided I don’t want to see him alone.”
I waited while the kettle filled.
“He’s calling me unreasonable.”
“Do you want to go?”
“No.”
She turned off the tap.
“That’s why I wanted somebody to hear me say it.”