Free Anybody But Him by Claire Baxter Page B

couldn’t quite believe she’d asked. ‘Maybe I’d better stay and help?’
    She shrugged. ‘That’s up to you.’
    â€˜Okay.’ He joined her at the table. ‘What about I chop the vegetables and you beat the eggs?’
    â€˜Fine.’ Eggs she could handle. She knew what they looked like.
    Five minutes later, as she attempted to fish yet another piece of shell out of the bowl, she decided that she’d got the short straw. Blair seemed to have received full cooperation from the vegetables, and already had olive oil heating up in the frying pan.
    He caught her watching him, and smiled. ‘Nearly done?’
    â€˜Sure. Nearly.’ To distract him from the fact that she’d pushed her thumb through yet another egg she said, ‘So, why do you go away from home so much?’
    â€˜I don’t normally, but recently I’ve been working on a portrait commission in Sydney. The client lives there, and for various reasons we’ve decided that it’s easier for me to work at her house. She puts us up from Monday to Thursday, and on Friday evening we drive home.’
    â€˜Us?’
    â€˜Dammit and me.’
    â€˜Oh, right.’ She glanced at the dog. He was sitting in the corner of the room watching them so intently that she felt sure if either of them dropped any food, it wouldn’t reach the floor.
    â€˜How much longer will the portrait take?’
    â€˜Only a couple of weeks.’
    He turned his back on her to add the vegetables to the pan and she took the opportunity to fish out the last of the shell before beating the eggs with a balloon whisk she’d found in the drawer.
    â€˜So, you and Una …’ he said, looking over his shoulder. ‘What’s the story?’
    Story? She stopped whisking. ‘We’re sisters. We’re closely related. We’ve known each other for a long time.’ She shrugged.
    â€˜I mean, you’re very different, yet you both had the same upbringing.’
    â€˜You mean, she’s nice?’
    â€˜She is, actually. She’s great.’
    â€˜Mm. I don’t know why. I guess she must have read the how-to guide. Must have been in an email I didn’t get. So, how long have you been friends?’
    â€˜Ages.’
    â€˜Really? And yet you didn’t like either of us in high school.’
    Still holding the spatula, he turned and leaned back against the kitchen bench. ‘What makes you say that?’
    â€˜Oh, please. You always had something derogatory to say about the Doyles.’
    â€˜I did?’
    â€˜Come on, don’t pretend you’ve forgotten.’ She picked up the bowl of beaten eggs. ‘Ready for these?’
    He nodded. ‘Tip them into the pan.’
    She did as he said.
    â€˜I remember that Una was in the year above me, so I didn’t have a great deal to do with her. And you were in the year below– that much, I remember very well.’
    Her hand jerked and the last of the egg landed on the top of the stove. Damn .
    After a silence, he said, ‘Do you have any cheese?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Well, all you need to do now is grate some and sprinkle it on before you put it under the grill. I’ll leave you to it and head outside to make a start, if that’s okay. I’d switch the grill on to warm now if I were you.’
    â€˜Got it.’
    While the grill was warming, she grated the cheese that was left over from the cheese and biscuits snack she usually ate in the evening in place of dinner. She topped the eggs with it, then transferred the pan to the grill.
    She cleared the junk off the table and set it for the two of them, which felt very strange. She boiled the kettle, and only checked on the progress under the grill a couple – well, six or so – times. She’d bought a small coffee plunger which she filled for herself, and she made tea for Blair. She switched off the grill and moved the pan to the