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a band,’ said Tim, looking annoyed. ‘We’re just looking for a new drummer and then we’ll be gigging again. I do a bit of casual work in a supermarket, just to tide me over.’

‘Before you hit the big time,’ said Jack.

‘That’s right,’ replied Tim, his voice a little too loud. ‘Why didn’t you tell Jack about the band?’ he asked Chantel.

‘Chill out,’ said Chantel. She put her hand on Tim’s briefly, then took it away. ‘It’s just that you haven’t had any gigs for such a long time . . . ’

The waiter appeared and took their order. Jack had the steak tartare, Amy ordered an innocuous-sounding fish dish, Chantel a salad and Tim an omelette. ‘You’re not having chips?’ Amy asked Chantel.

‘Watching my figure,’ replied Chantel.

‘She’s perfect just as she is,’ said Jack. ‘We’ve been working out together,’ he added. He looked at Tim. ‘You could join us sometime, if you like?’

Amy laughed. ‘Fitness isn’t really Tim’s thing,’ she said.

‘I’m fit,’ said Tim. ‘Just in a more subtle, relaxed sort of way.’

‘Right,’ said Amy. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a minute, then the waiter thankfully came and topped up their glasses again. ‘How’s your work going, Chantel?’ asked Amy. ‘I’ve barely seen you since you started at Opco.’

‘It’s good,’ said Chantel. ‘I do some admin now, not just reception work.’

‘That’s great,’ said Amy. ‘I miss you in the house.’ Chantel didn’t say anything.

‘We wanted to say, actually,’ started Jack, looking at Chantel, who in turn looked at the bread basket. ‘It seems a bit of a waste, Chantel spending most of her time with me and paying rent for her room at your place too. I’ve got plenty of space.’

Amy looked at Chantel, who seemed fascinated by her napkin. Jack continued. ‘Of course I wouldn’t charge her rent. She could save up, get herself out of debt.’

‘Debt?’ echoed Amy.

‘Just a bit,’ said Chantel. ‘A few credit cards here and there.’

‘But she needs her room,’ said Amy, ‘with us. You guys have just met. Isn’t it a bit soon?’

‘We’ve been together three months,’ said Chantel. ‘And it’s time for me to have my life too.’ She looked from her napkin to Amy. ‘I can’t be the third wheel to you two for ever.’

‘You’re not a third wheel,’ objected Amy. ‘You’re the best wheel.’ ‘Maybe it’s a good idea,’ said Tim. Chantel glanced at him and then down again. ‘Some space for everyone.’

‘I don’t want space,’ said Amy. ‘I want my best friend.’

‘You’ll still have me,’ said Chantel. ‘But I’ve got Jack now, too.’

Jack took her hand and squeezed it tightly.

The food arrived. Amy moved her fish around her plate miserably. Chantel picked at her salad and Jack wolfed down his meat. ‘Most expensive eggs I’ve ever had,’ commented Tim.

Chantel put her fork down. ‘I need to go to the loo,’ she announced. ‘Amy, come with me?’

‘Girls and toilets,’ said Jack. ‘Always need to go in pairs.’

*

The ladies’ room was beautiful. Soft jazz music was playing, and there was a funny little anteroom with sofas and mirrors and little pots of hand cream. ‘I don’t need the loo,’ said Chantel. She sat on one of the sofas and picked up the bottle of hand cream, dispensing some on to the palm of her hand. ‘Damn, I’ve taken too much,’ she said, spreading it over her hands and up her arms. ‘Want some?’

Amy held out her hand and Chantel smeared cream on to her. It smelt like the roses in her grandmother’s garden. Chantel didn’t let go of Amy’s hand when she’d finished, and they sat, hand in greasy hand, until Amy started to cry.

‘I really like him,’ said Chantel, tears forming in her eyes too. ‘He’s different. He’s the first guy I’ve been out with who’s not a mess. You know the losers I usually go for. I can’t believe I’ve finally found a good one.’

‘He seems nice,’ sniffed Amy.

‘He is,’ said Chantel. ‘You’ve had Tim for ever and I’ve had no one. I want to make a go of this. God knows I’ve screwed up enough in my life.’

‘You’re OK,’ said Amy. She let go of her friend’s hand and hugged her instead, her lotion-coated hands smearing the back of Chantel’s top. ‘And you know you’re always welcome back, any time you want.’

‘Of course,’ said Chantel. She laughed. ‘I’ll not be too far away, you know. Just a ride on the 383 bus. You must visit all the time.’

‘Try to stop me,’ replied Amy.

‘God, Amy, you gave me the fright of my life. What are you doing creeping around our front garden at night?’ Nina was using one hand to push aside the branches of the hedge. The other she used to quickly close the lid of the grey bin. The movement turned on the sensor lights and Amy suddenly felt as if she were on stage.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Amy. ‘Richard said I could put some stuff in your recycling bin.’

‘At midnight?’ questioned Nina. ‘Where’s your rubbish?’

Amy felt herself grow braver at the mention of the word rubbish. That was not what it was. She stepped into the garden. ‘Actually, I put some stuff in there yesterday, but I’ve changed my mind. I want it back.’

‘You know you’ve got a problem,’ said Nina. ‘You should get help.’

‘Can I just get my things?’

‘Be my guest,’ said Nina, stepping aside. Her hand still rested awkwardly on the grey bin.

‘What were you doing, out here?’ asked Amy, watching Nina’s hand on the bin.

‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ said Nina. ‘But I was taking out the rubbish.’

‘It’s late,’ said Amy.

‘I’ve been busy,’ said Nina.

‘Can I see?’ asked Amy. There was something in Nina’s face that worried her.

‘Can you see my rubbish?’ queried Nina. ‘You want our junk as well as your own?’

‘Maybe,’ said Amy.

‘Well you can’t,’ said Nina. ‘Get out of here.’

‘I need to see what’s in the bin,’ said Amy, feeling determined. ‘If you don’t show me now I’ll wait till you’ve gone to

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