I guessed that lots of families had gone home, with work and school starting the following Monday.It felt rather like clearing up after a house party, taking down the fairy lights and putting away the candles and vases from the night before. I bundled up the tablecloths to go into the washing machine, while Phoebe collected all the used menus. ‘What do you want me to do with these?’ she asked. ‘Bin? Or will you use them again next week?’I bit my lip. Would there even be an evening opening next week? I wasn’t sure I’d still have Ed in my kitchen then, and I doubted I’d have hired anyone new to replace him, either. ‘Bin,’ I said after a moment. ‘Oh, but . . . maybe just keep one, as a souvenir.’The café seemed plain and unadorned once again after we’d removed all its frippery and trimmings, like a party girl waking with a hangover and pasty skin. I was glad more than ever that we’d have Jamie’s paintings on the walls soon; seeing the place dressed up for the evening had made me realize how tatty around the edges it was in broad daylight.
