“Like meeting through a suitcase,” says Maude, one eyebrow arched.
“I met my husband online,” says Jocelyne, icily.
“Me too,” says Juliette, twirling her string of white pearls around one finger, her top lip curled.
“Ah, well, um, not that the internet can’t be romantic too—” I trip over my words. “It’s just, er, you know, more, well, it’s less—um.” No, I can’t think of any words to dig myself out of this hole, so I just leave the sentence hanging and take a painfully large gulp of tea.
Jasper offers me a chair and then pulls up a seat beside me, before offering me another platter of cucumber sandwiches. His face is so earnest, so keen to please—a doting Labrador.
“Laura and I have the same favorite book and a shared passion for Phil Collins,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. His easy physical affection makes me self-conscious, worried what all these people will think, when they know we only met yesterday. Perhaps something in my body language gives me away, because when I glance over at Maude, I’m convinced she can see right through me. I reach up to pat Jasper’s hand, which is still resting on my shoulder.
“It does feels like someone up there was sending us a sign,” I say brightly, giving everyone a beaming smile.
“On dating apps, you can add details like what books you like and your taste in music,” says Jocelyne, clearly still annoyed about my earlier comment. “You don’t have to rely on careless behavior at the airport to find that.”
“Jocey thinks romance is her husband putting the dishwasher on,” Jasper says with a smirk, before gently kicking his sister beneath the table.
“Ow! Trust me, when you have three children under six, it is,” she says, then turns to me. “Be warned, Jasper wants enough children to make his own cricket team, so you’d have your work cut out.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Jasper says, giving his sister a friendly scowl across the table, “and don’t ask Jocey about her children, or she’ll tell you each of their birth stories.”
“Well, don’t ask Jasper about kitchens, or you’ll be past childbearing age by the time he’s finished talking,” says Jocelyne, and then they stick their tongues out at each other.
Looking between Jasper and his sister, I envy this easy teasing between them. I always longed for siblings, to have someone who would always understand where you came from.
“Some love isn’t all bells and whistles and fancy stories,” says Keith, leaning over to squeeze June’s hand. I feel irritated that he is daring to weigh in on the topic of love.
“That is true, dear,” says Maude, giving him an affectionate smile.
“Laura, do you plan on writing about Jasper for your website then?” Juliette asks, cocking her head at me.
“Um, maybe. It could be a good story. We’ll have to see.” I let out a sigh that goes on too long. “June, Keith told me you met through a shared love of maps, is that right?” I ask, keen to steer the conversation away from me and to include June, who is looking left out.
“What’s that, dear?” asks June, sounding surprised that someone is talking to her. Then she laughs a little too loudly and turns to Keith, as though expecting him to answer for her.
“That’s right,” says Keith, patting June’s hand. Maude looks at me, unblinking, narrowing her eyes slightly, as though she knows that I know. She couldn’t, could she? Maybe I left fingerprints all over the coat alcove. Maybe there were traces of my perfume on her brown Barbour jacket, and she’s just this second sniffed me out. Damn it, I should never have returned to the scene of the crime. That’s probably the first rule of crime club.
“Laura’s also writing about Jersey,” Jasper says, saving June from answering, “a travel article about local dishes and traditions. I thought you could give her a few of your local recipes, Mum.”
“I’d be delighted,” says Maude, standing up. “Why don’t you come inside with me for a moment, Laura? We’ll have a root around. I might even have some old snaps of Jasper in his birthday suit you’ll find amusing.”
“Mum.” Jasper rolls his eyes but looks secretly pleased.
Glancing across at June, I’m worried she’ll think me rude to leave before she’s answered my question, but Keith is now talking to her quietly and her eyes drop to her lap.
Inside, Maude ducks into the kitchen and picks up a large leather book stuffed with loose pages, then she shows me through to the living room and offers me a seat on a blue sofa. I perch uncomfortably on the edge, wondering if Keith’s naked body has lain here before me.