‘I will if I can,’ I say. When morning comes I send him a text message, ‘Sorry, still ill’, then turn off my phone. It’s lunchtime before I can face any food; Melissa brings me chicken soup from the café, and once I start eating I discover I’m ravenous.
‘This is delicious.’ We’re sitting in my kitchen, at the tiny table only big enough for two. ‘Sorry about the mess.’ The dishwasher needs unloading, which means everyone has ignored it and piled their breakfast dishes in the sink instead. A ring of empty packaging around the bin suggests that it, too, is full. The fridge is covered with family photos, held in place by the kitsch magnets it has become traditional to buy on holiday, as part of an ongoing challenge to find the cheesiest souvenir. Currently in first place is Katie’s nodding donkey magnet from Benidorm, its sombrero swaying every time someone opens the fridge door.
‘It’s homely,’ Melissa says, laughing when she sees my sceptical look. ‘I mean it. It’s warm and full of love and memories – just the way a family house should be.’ I search her face for regret, but find nothing.
Melissa was forty when we met – still young enough to have a family – and I asked her once if she and Neil were planning to have children.
‘He can’t.’ She corrected herself instantly. ‘That’s not fair. I meant we can’t.’
‘That must be hard.’ I’d been a mother for so long I couldn’t imagine a life without children.
‘Not really. I’ve always known, you see – Neil had leukaemia as a child and the chemo left him infertile – so it was never part of our life together. We’ve done other things; had other opportunities.’ Work, I supposed. The business, holidays, a beautiful house.
‘Neil found it harder than I did,’ she said. ‘He used to get very angry – Why me? That sort of thing – but nowadays we barely even think about it.’
‘Whereas I’d love a house like yours,’ I say now, ‘all clear surfaces and not a dirty sock in sight!’
She smiles. ‘The grass is always greener, isn’t that what they say? Before too long, Katie and Justin will have moved out and you’ll be rattling around in an empty house, wishing they were here.’
‘Maybe. Oh, that reminds me; what on earth have you done to my son?’
Melissa looks instantly worried, and I feel bad for trying to make a joke. I explain: ‘He presented me with money for rent on Tuesday. Without being asked for it. I gather you’ve promoted him.’
‘Oh, I see! He deserves it – he’s doing a great job, and I need a manager. It’s worked out perfectly.’
There’s still something troubling her. I hold her gaze till she breaks away, looking out of the window to our scrubby garden. Finally, she speaks.
‘The pay rise.’ She glances at me. ‘It’s cash-in-hand.’ I raise an eyebrow. I’m her friend, but I’m also her bookkeeper. I suspect she wouldn’t have told me, had I not mentioned Justin’s pay rise.
‘When customers pay in cash, it doesn’t always go through the books. I keep a rainy day fund. It covers the odd household bill without my needing to take a dividend from the business.’
‘I see.’ I should probably be wrestling with my conscience, round about now, but the way I see it, she’s not hurting anyone. She’s not some global retailer, avoiding corporation tax with offshore accounts. She’s just a local businesswoman, trying to make a living like the rest of us.
‘It’s not purely selfish, you know.’ I can see from Melissa’s expression that she’s regretting telling me; that she’s worried I’m judging her. ‘It means Justin doesn’t lose out to the taxman either; he can start to put something aside.’
I’m touched that she’s even considered it. ‘So do I also have you to thank for him passing some of his pay rise on in rent?’
‘We might have had a word or two …’ She assumes an innocent face that makes me laugh.
‘Well, thank you. It’s good to see him finally growing up a bit. You’re not worried about someone grassing you up to HMRC?’ I add, my bookkeeper hat temporarily in place. It isn’t just Melissa who should be worried. If she were to be caught, I’d be hauled in too.
‘You’re the only one who knows.’
‘Knows what?’ I grin. ‘I’d better get dressed – I must reek.’ I’m still wearing the jogging bottoms and T-shirt I slept in last night, and I’m suddenly conscious of the stale smell of sickness. ‘I’m meeting Katie’s new boyfriend-slash-director later – he’s picking her up for rehearsal.’
‘Boyfriend?’
‘Well, she hasn’t called him that, but I know my daughter. She only met him on Monday, but I swear I haven’t had a conversation with her since then without her mentioning his name. Isaac this, Isaac that. She’s got it bad.’ I hear the creak of the stairs and I stop talking abruptly, just before Katie appears in the kitchen.
‘Wow, check you out!’ Melissa says, jumping up to give her a hug. Katie is wearing grey skinny jeans that look sprayed on, and a gold sequinned sweatshirt that rides up as she puts her arms around Melissa.