“You gonna be waylaid over this dinner?”

“What? The takeaway?”

“No, I told you, I asked you for a date when I could invite Frank King and his wife, and Tom and Sheila, to dinner. I told you.”

“I know, and I haven’t forgotten. I’ve even arranged for Pam to come over tomorrow to help me sort out the menu!”

“Well, there’s no need to go mad!”

“With my culinary expertise, darlin’, I doubt it, but I’ll have a go.”

He tipped her chin up and kissed her, looking into her eyes. “It’s important to me. I lost out on a contract; if I pull off this deal with Frank King we’ll set up a partnership. He’s got a big yard, employs fifty guys, and then Tom supplies the paint. We cut cost all round. I don’t know if they want me with them, but it’d be a big plus for me, so the dinner’s important.”

“I know, it’s no problem, but my hunger is! Lemme have a shower, you get the nosh.”

The hot water felt good. Wrapped in a big toweling dressing gown, Jane switched on the television and lay on the bed to watch it. She could have gone to sleep there and then, but Peter arrived with the Chinese takeaway. She could hear him banging around in the kitchen but didn’t have the energy to get up and help him.

The telephone rang and Peter appeared at the door. “If that’s for you to go out, I quit! I quit!”

It was Jane’s mother on the line to remind her of her father’s birthday and to invite her to a small party. Jane covered the mouthpiece and called Peter, “Pete! Pete, it’s Mum! Are you free next Monday? It’s Dad’s seventy-fifth and she’s having a little do! Pete?”

Peter brought the tray with the cartons of food and a bottle of wine. “Sounds OK,” he said.

Jane listened to her mother carrying on about her sister Pam’s pregnancy and pulled a face. “Pam’s got water retention!”

Already tucking in to the food, Peter gestured that it would get cold.

“Mum, I’ll have to go, we’re just having dinner. Yes! I’ll be there, and Peter . . . OK . . . Give Pop my love!” She put the phone down, “Dear God, don’t let me forget Dad’s birthday card, remind me to send it off.”

It was almost ten. They settled back to watch TV as they ate, but Jane had no sooner lifted the fork to her mouth than the phone rang again. She pushed the tray away.

“I’ll get it.”

Peter continued eating. He could hear excitement in Jane’s voice, then her laughter. At least it sounded like good news. She came back into the bedroom, beaming.

“Guess what, I’m going to be on TV!”