Anna felt the heat rush to her cheeks and cursed herself for it. ‘What?’

‘I saw Frank and Pat the other day. I asked after you and they said you were completely exhausted from all the catering, so much so that they thought you were conking out every moment you could get. It seemed strange to me – you’re so fit, clambering over the cliffs like you do, not to mention that you said in London you used to work split-shifts. Then they said you’d cried off helping with the slip clear-up, which isn’t like you at all…’

‘I’ve got a bad back,’ Anna said weakly.

‘What, as well as the ear infection? Really?’

‘No, I—’

Anna glanced up at her friend and knew her face was red. Rhona’s eyebrows were near her hairline.

‘You are,’ Rhona whispered. ‘Aren’t you? You’re pregnant.’

With a burst of relief that brushed very close to euphoria, Anna gave in and nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am. And I’m sorry I haven’t told you before, that I lied, but my first scan isn’t for another three weeks and—’

Rhona put down her glass, took Anna’s from her and pulled her into a fierce hug. ‘Are you happy about it?’ she asked, her chin on Anna’s shoulder.

Anna took a shuddering breath. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It was such a huge shock at first, but… yes. I am happy. Really happy, despite everything.’

Rhona pulled back, and Anna was touched to see that her friend’s eyes were glistening. ‘Then I’m happy for you, hen, and I’m here if you need anything. Anything at all. All right?’

Anna laughed, another explosion of relief, and pulled Rhona against her again. She’d only known this woman for a few months, but was suddenly so grateful for her that she could barely breathe. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

Twenty-Five

The fallout from the Observer review meant that Anna’s email went into overdrive. Some messages were from surprised old acquaintances, well-wishes from people she had left behind following her split from Geoff. Others were from newspapers and magazines wanting to know the story behind what the Internet was dubbing ‘The smallest restaurant in the UK’, although how they’d got her email in the first place was anyone’s guess. Anna was intensely glad that she’d made her landline number ex-directory, and that her mobile number wasn’t public. That didn’t stop the call she got a few days later, though. Anna looked at her screen and saw a name she hadn’t thought about in years.

‘Hello, Anna,’ said the voice, when she answered the phone. ‘This is Melissa Stark here. You probably won’t remember me, but—’

‘Melissa, hi,’ said Anna. ‘Of course I remember you. The editor of Geoff’s cookbooks, right? How are you? It’s been a while.’