Three months passed without a visit from Kevin, which was hard on Maureen. In the end, she made Peter ring him up and invite him over for Sunday lunch (with the promise of organic free range chicken) to show him there were no hard feelings. Well, thought Peter, there are hard feelings, and I don’t see the point of pretending otherwise. But he didn’t say so.
‘Well, I rang him,’ he reported back to Maureen.
‘Is he coming?’ asked Maureen.
‘For organic free-range chicken? Of course he’s coming. And he wants to bring someone with him. A girl.’
‘A girl?’ cried Maureen, all flushed with hope and excitement.
‘Yes, a girl. Name of Pixie. Bloody stupid name. I bet it wasn’t the one she was christened with.’
Pixie did look a bit like a pixie, in fact. Small and slim with big hazel eyes, a pointed chin, long fingers…
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