Rattling around

The cup of tea was about as wonderful as a cup of tea could be. But its reviving effects made us both aware of two things: one, we were shattered, and two, we were ravenous.

Although I couldn't shake the feeling that we were intruding in this strange house, Kate was completely at ease as she rifled the cupboards for anything edible. The fridge and freezer were empty and unplugged; it seemed her friend would be away for some time.

"Here, catch," she shouted, throwing a bag of tortilla chips to me. "Stick those in a bowl, would you? No point being uncivilised about it. There's some pasta here, and if I can find a jar of sauce, we're in business."

Still feeling like the world's most incompetent burglar, I started going through cupboards and drawers looking for a bowl, and thinking we'd need plates and forks too. Funny how the ordered chaos of someone else's life can appear completely random and meaningless seen from the outside.

Just as I found the cutlery drawer - the last one I tried, naturally - Kate whooped. "Got it! Stick some water in a pan, would you? You okay with capers and olives?"

"Sounds good to me. Having said that, anything would sound good right now."

"Good. Can't stand fussy eaters. See if you can find a bottle of wine, eh? If I know Sarah, there'll be wine somewhere in the house."

There was. I poured us a glass while the pasta was bubbling away, and we both said a mechanical "cheers" before drinking. Strange, how strong the hold of habit is.

I realised, embarrassed, that I'd practically drained the glass in one gulp - before I realised that Kate had done exactly the same. I looked at the look of bemusement on her face, and then she laughed too. It felt good: not quite natural, but good all the same.

"We'd better slow down here," she said, grinning.

I nodded, and we held each other's gaze for a moment, before she looked quickly away.

"Whoops, pasta's ready," she said, heading for the cooker.



Story begins here.