Penny thought about it. A trip with Francesco to see Uncle David and Eric down on the coast could actually be really fun.

‘Oh, that’s a great idea!’ Penny said. ‘Maybe Priyesh could come, too. Although, it’s still very casual. Uncle David doesn’t actually know about us since they’re quite good friends and, well. You know. It needs to be dealt with delicately.’ Penny considered it. ‘On second thoughts, taking Priyesh would be a terrible idea. Forget I mentioned it.’

‘Thank goodness,’ said Francesco, emphatically. It took Penny by surprise.

‘What’s your problem with Priyesh? He likes you a lot,’ Penny said. ‘I thought you two got on?’

‘I don’t trust him,’ Francesco said. ‘I’ve never seen him in the same suit twice.’

‘You don’t trust him because he has a varied wardrobe?’ Penny questioned.

Francesco shrugged. ‘I think linguine for this,’ he said, changing the subject.

‘Sometimes I think you act a bit jealous, you know,’ Penny said. ‘Don’t be mad at me for saying that, but I think you do.’

‘I don’t act jealous,’ said Francesco, almost reflexively. ‘Why would you say that? What do I have to be jealous of?’

Penny didn’t know why she’d said it. She wanted him to be jealous, in a way, in the same way she felt jealous that he’d kissed that curly-haired woman, and kept going for drinks with the goddess.

She tried to laugh it off. ‘Just checking you’re not secretly in love with me or anything,’ she said, trying to sound cool. ‘Lesser men have fallen harder you know.’

Francesco looked up at her. ‘I know they have,’ he said, looking at her for a split second too long. Penny’s heart beat in double time. She pulled herself up to sit on the countertop.

‘Thank you for cooking,’ she said. ‘I’m starving.’

‘My pleasure,’ said Francesco, adding salt to a vat of water for boiling. ‘I like to cook for you.’

They continued with their supper like nothing untoward had been said.

* * *

‘Argh!’ cried Penny, clutching at where the towel had clipped her leg. ‘You bastard! That one bloody hurt!’

‘You said not to go easy on you,’ Francesco said, jumping from one foot to the other, the offending weapon in his hand.

‘You’re not normally this good at Tea Towel Warfare,’ Penny said. ‘If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’d been practising.’ She moved her own wrist in circles, like Francesco was doing, so that her damp towel coiled around itself and she could snap in with a flick at Francesco’s legs.

‘Missed me,’ he said, laughing and moving side to side. ‘Missed me again!’ he cheered, almost walking into the pot-wash.

‘Sorry Ollie,’ he said.

‘It’s okay,’ said Ollie.

‘Okay,’ declared Penny. ‘Next one, the loser is responsible for washing up after supper.’