Page 101 of The Next Chapter

Me: Nope, no mention of baby me. She did say how much her and Ashton got along though again, and how she was half in love with him. It has to be him.

Seb: If you say so.

Me: Got to go, Noah and Lola are coming.

Seb: Sounds like you’re working really hard up there.

Me: I am! I sent Mr Vandergilden a draft last night. He was emailing every day. Do you know how many times I typed the words ‘and then I shot…’

Seb: Relax! Jeez, I was kidding. I wish you’d work less not more. You highly strung people are so touchy.

Me: I really have to go.

Seb: Have fun with lover boy and Mum.

Seb: That sounded dark. Enjoy!

‘Look who I found!’ Lola smiles up at Noah with something that looks close to maternal pride. It makes my skin feel all itchy. Those bloody ants better not be back.

‘I was trying to finish painting the bedroom,’ Noah protests, being dragged down onto the picnic blanket by Lola.

‘Ah, there’s time a plenty for painting. I’ve never known you to turn down food.’

‘That’s true. Hi.’ Noah smiles at me.

‘Hi.’ I can’t help my stupid face from smiling. Lola hums.

‘You should have seen him when he was eighteen.’ Lola starts pulling food out of a wicker basket. We have affable Lola for lunch, then. ‘Right scrawny little thing, I couldn’t fill him.’

I look at Noah, with his lovely bicep vein. He’s no one’s definition of scrawny.

‘He’s actually the only person who eats whatever I cook without complaining,’ I tell Lola.

‘Well, once I ate tarantulas in Cambodia so Lola’s right, I’ll eat anything.’

‘Hey! But also, gross.’

There might be many, many ways in which Lola and I are different. But if there’s one thing that can be said to bond us, it’s our shared passion for the humble salad.

Lola produces Tupperware full of different types and I pile up my plate.

‘These radishes are amazing,’ I tell her.

‘Thanks, Lily. They’re from the patch.’

‘It really makes a difference. Is that the giant cucumber too?’

‘Yep, seemed a shame to cut it up in the end.’

Lola’s one step away from that character in Encanto who shoots literal flowers from her fingertips.

I think of the rota I have to water Dad’s plants. Printed and laminated and pinned to the fridge. Lola probably just looks at a plant and knows instinctively that it’s at risk of dehydration.

Lola tells me stories about Noah.

‘There was this one time I was caught kissing the vicar’s daughter in the food shed,’ Noah says.

‘The vicar’s daughter.’ I laugh. ‘Painfully clichéd.’