‘I’m trying the goat,’ Clarissa said to Richard, hoping to help him make up his mind. The sooner they ate, the sooner they would be away from this awkward lunch party.
‘I hear it’s greasy.’
‘A little grease won’t hurt.’
‘I think I prefer the fish.’
‘Then have the fish.’
The waiter had started taking down Fred and Margaret’s orders. He was moving through the group with speed. Helen was next, then Clarissa. Once he had taken down Richard’s fish order, the waiter hurried away and in no time a carafe of wine and bottles of beer appeared, along with crusty bread and aioli and an array of tapas. Drinks were poured and the food was passed around. Everyone dived in, clearly as famished as she. Although, Clarissa was surprised to see Helen load her plate, given her pallor. Richard was a touch
