Plenty, usually. They talked about themselves endlessly, about how important their work was. Most of them had gone to private schools and had only ever heard the word no when they were the ones saying it. Not that it mattered—I was using them the same way they used me, to fill in time, to keep Lina off my back.

‘I mean, he’s on the wrong team,’ Nic went on. ‘But nobody’s perfect.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Ha!’ Nic laughed. ‘Trust me, if he was on my team, I’d know.’

‘No, I mean the other stuff.’

He shrugged, picked up another glass and inspected it. ‘He’s been coming in for months. He’s usually got a book but he’s chatty. Like I said—’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, Cait.’ Nic looked at me, bemused. ‘You’ve seriously never noticed him before? Are you blind?’

‘I’m too busy doing my job,’ I said, putting the last bottle of wine in the fridge and shutting it. ‘Usually yours too.’

He ignored the dig. ‘He’s here all the time. Not once?’

I hadn’t. Or maybe I had. Glenmorangie and water did sound vaguely familiar, when I stopped to think about it. ‘He sits at the bar?’

‘Sometimes. Sometimes out the back if there’s a table free, or he’s eating.’

I frowned.

‘Look up from your dockets sometime,’ he said, a little too gently. ‘You never know what you’re missing.’

I made a face.

‘I thought he was going to ask you out.’

‘Right.’ I snorted. ‘And why would he do that?’

Nic smiled. ‘You’re cute. For a girl.’

‘Gee, thanks.’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t do that, Nic.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because …’ I glanced down at the kitchen. Dex was cleaning something near the pass. Nic’s eyes followed mine. ‘I don’t have the time.’

‘Right,’ he said. ‘You’ve just got to get back on the horse, honey—or under it.’

‘Jesus, Nic.’

He leaned in, squeezing my arm as he brushed past me to get to the register. ‘Just make sure it’s a horse, okay? Preferably a stallion.’

I rolled my eyes and picked up a glass. ‘Yeah, thanks,’ I said, but when I looked up he was gone.

5 TUESDAY, APRIL

5

TUESDAY, APRIL

Donna came back, like she said she would. She was already there when I arrived, absently stirring her beige coffee with a pop stick while she listened to Geoff and Carlos talking about the weekend’s football results. Her hair was pulled back in a high crooked bun, like an old tennis ball had landed on her head and stuck.