Peggy made eye contact with Dell and with her head waved her over. Dell left the game seamlessly. She knew straight away what they were up to.

‘Are we going?’ Dell said. She was still hot from the volleyball. Slightly wet with sweat.

Dell picked up the quiche off the table and they walked to Ian’s car without saying goodbye to anyone. Nobody cared and if they did they didn’t make it obvious. There was a temptation to make the exit as attention-grabbing as Heidi’s entrance had been, but no one had the energy for it. Not now that Heidi was home, or at least back where they could see her.

‘We could eat this at home,’ Peggy suggested. She was squashed in between the other two in the back seat with the quiche on her lap.

‘Yeah,’ Dell said. ‘Why not.’

*

While Greta, Peggy and Dell took the quiche inside, Heidi talked to Ian at the gate. There was some shouting – from him. They could hear it from inside. Peggy looked through the lounge curtains. The neighbours didn’t like it when there was too much noise. Ian punched Heidi in the face and she doubled over. The other two came over and looked out the window as well.

‘Should we help?’ Greta asked.

‘Nah,’ Dell said. ‘She’ll be fine.’

As Heidi stood up, Ian slapped her across the side of her head and spat in her face. Then, just like that, he stepped back and said, ‘You fucking freak,’ and got back in his car and drove off. Heidi waved at them as she walked down the driveway and they waved back.

They sat in the lounge. Dell had put some music on, and they ate the quiche with their hands.

‘You know what would go good with this?’ Heidi said.

The others had their mouths and hands full so they just nodded to say, ‘Go on, tell us.’ Heidi said, ‘Sweet chilli sauce.’ And everyone agreed, with big smiles and nods. She was so right.

‘Can you just, like, buy that?’ Greta asked.

‘Totally,’ Dell said. ‘I saw it at the supermarket the other day. In glass bottles near the tomato sauce.’

‘Oh.’ Greta was licking each of her fingers. ‘I thought you could only get it from takeaways.’

‘And potatoes,’ Peggy said. ‘Like mashed. Or roasted or something.’

Everyone nodded.

‘Even a salad,’ Dell said. ‘It’d be like a whole thing.’

‘French bread,’ Heidi said. No one was really concentrating on it now – they were all just eating, really, and watching everyone else eat. Watching themselves eat. Feeling doubly full. Feeling all but done even though they were eating some more. Picking the quiche up when the other one did. Stuffing it in their mouths. Thinking about the next time they would make it. Not sad at all that they’d left the picnic. Glad they were together again. Glad Ian was gone.