Chapter 34Sally
I arrived at Martin’s flat feeling bizarrely nervous. He answered the door in an apron, and I followed him to the outlandishly large kitchen.
“I’ve just made a mushroom risotto,” he said, “and I think I’ve just made too much. Want a bowl? There’s a bottle of Sancerre in the fridge if you could grab a couple of glasses.”
Martin just happened to make too much food a lot when I went round. I think that was part of his girlfriend façade. I played along to be nice, but also because he was a rock star in the kitchen. I was a beans-on-toast sort of chef. I stood beside him like we were an ordinary couple making dinner together, poured the wine, and handed him a glass. He set it down and stirred a knob of butter into the risotto.
“I’m stopping, Martin,” I said.
He didn’t look
