Abi arrives early at the restaurant. There are hundreds of forks, knives and spoons that need unpacking, washing, drying, polishing and putting away. This is the kind of monotonous work she can handle today. While Richard and Lotte sweep around the restaurant arguing about where to hang an oil painting, screaming at each other over a wine order, Abi keeps to the kitchen, hunched, working her fingers raw.
She wishes Diego were here, but he isn’t arriving for another few days and, besides, she probably shouldn’t tell him. He is moving for a new start both professionally with PLATE and with his partner. It’d disturb him, the past stalking them like this.
Abi stays in the kitchen, working and listening to Richard and Lotte’s latest row about the reservation system when suddenly the swing doors sigh open and Lotte stalks stormily into the room. She kicks herself up on to the stainless-steel countertop and holds her head in her hands, groans dramatically, ‘Urgh. Men!’
Abi stops drying a platter.
‘I honestly think doing this on my own would be easier than doing it with him. It was such a stupid idea, thinking we could cope working together.’ She turns to look at Abi. ‘I mean, look at you, a working single parent. You’re better off without a man, aren’t you?’
Abi breathes out, fiddles with the bangles round her wrist, wrestling with the urge to tell her boss to fuck off, but reminds herself this is what women like Lotte do: they chat.
A few months ago, when she first arrived in Waverly for her interview, she noticed how Lotte’s smile had faltered. The way Lotte’s mouth crumpled as she took in her tattoos, her freshly cropped hair.
But Richard and Lotte had spent months wooing Diego to leave London and head up PLATE, and Diego had been unwavering: he’d only accept the offer at PLATE if Abi had a role too. She’s promised Diego she’ll do her best to fit in.
Abi forces a smile. ‘Well, it hasn’t always been easy.’
‘No, of course it hasn’t,’ Lotte states, before curiosity gets the better of her and she asks, ‘Does their dad help?’
Of course. This is what Lotte wants. A slice of Abi’s history.
‘Well, they don’t have the same dad.’
‘Oh,’ Lotte says. ‘They’re half-sisters.’
‘They’re just sisters.’
Lotte nods like Abi’s confirming what she already knew. ‘Of course.’
Lotte’s eyes still on her, Abi gives in to the pressure to offer her half of the story.
‘I got pregnant with Lily when I was eighteen – it was just a casual thing. He’s been all right, really – paid maintenance, did the bare minimum – but he’s never really been Lily’s dad.’ Abi looks steadily at Lotte, hoping to pre-emptively neutralize any pity. ‘He lives in Scotland now; he’s got other kids, his own family, which is fine.’
Lotte nods, like this is all as she anticipated but she’s impatient to hear the rest of the story. ‘And Margot?’
Abi picks up a few spoons, starts drying them, unsure how this is going to go. ‘I knew I wanted another child, so I used a sperm donor.’
Lotte’s jaw actually drops. ‘I was not expecting you to say that,’ she says, her eyes blinking with surprise.
‘No one ever does.’ Abi shrugs and picks up some more spoons to keep her hands busy. Although it was never a motivation, she has to admit there is some satisfaction in challenging the bleak single-parent narrative. People always think Margot must have been ‘another mistake’ but the truth is the opposite. Abi loved being a mum and she was bloody good at it. She wanted another baby and Lily wanted a sibling. She’d waited until Lily was old enough to understand, until she had savings and could take a few months off work, could support the three of them, and then she’d tracked her ovulation and bought some sperm. The whole thing was straightforward, and Margot made her presence known as a little blue line after only two months of trying.
‘Wow,’ Lotte says, sitting up straighter on the counter and shaking her head. ‘I have so many questions, I literally don’t know where to start.’ Abi realizes that her honesty has made Lotte relax, and she smiles as she feels Lotte arrive fully in the room.
‘What about you guys?’ Abi asks.
‘Oh, we just did it the boring old sex way.’ Lotte laughs and then quickly settles herself. ‘You mean, why didn’t we have another kid?’
She says it in a way that suggests she assumes this is what people want to know about her but most dare not ask. It makes Abi want to howl and laugh at the same time because women’s lives are never immune to scrutiny – even the choices of married, straight, solvent mothers like Lotte.
The bell from the front of the restaurant sounds, Lotte rolls her eyes and Abi freezes.
‘Bet he’s forgotten his bloody keys.’ Lotte jumps down from the countertop, padding out of the kitchen.
Abi silently prays that Lotte is right, that it is Richard or another delivery person, but her veins shrink as she hears Lotte squeal, ‘Sebbo!’