‘At ten-thirty at night?’

‘She’s a creative person! You know as well as I do creativity doesn’t keep office hours.’

‘You didn’t have to check your phone.’

‘No, but the system is designed for oversight. I have to know what’s going on, and whether you like it or not Karolina matters – she matters.’

‘Whether I like it or not?’

‘Yes! My God, not everything is personal, Tina. The chef didn’t become the lynchpin of our entire fine-dining business to spite you, it’s just the way fine dining works!’

‘You didn’t have to look at your phone.’

Bette had no defence to that. She didn’t want this fight; didn’t want what she’d said to be true either, that everything hung on Karolina, who was innovative and mercurial and, yes, demanding. She sat down on the bed, her left temple pounding, the air in the room charged.

‘You know I want this,’ said Tina. ‘You know I love your vision for this place, but—’

‘It’s just a chokepoint.’

‘You haven’t had a full day off for months.’

‘There’s too much to do.’

‘Yes, there is, and when are you gonna learn that the answer to too much work is not more work!’

Bette shut her mouth in a tight line – the surest way to stop the argument spiralling.

‘Maybe you don’t need you to have a day off, Bette, but I do. I don’t want us to come apart. Look at Alice and Nat.’

‘Oh, we’re nothing like them.’

‘Alice told me—’

‘Alice shouldn’t even be here.’

‘What?’

‘She has a house in LA, quite a nice one, as I recall. Nat’s the one who called time so why is she staying there and making Alice Angie’s problem?’

‘“Problem”’s a little harsh.’

‘You know what I mean, I mean she has a network in LA.’

‘Alice is Angie’s earthmother, one of your oldest friends.’

‘I know that, and I wish I could help her, but right now the only things I have bandwidth for are Saturday and Angie.’

Bette’s voice hitched with emotion when she said her daughter’s name. The wind went out of Tina’s sails, too. She sat down on the bed. Bette looked at her wife’s shoulders, her musculature toned from all the physical work, the tan lines from the racerback vests she wore for running in the morning. She reached out and stroked Tina’s shoulder with the back of her hand. The tension Tina had been holding left her body.

‘She’s shutting us out,’ she said quietly. 

‘Yeah,’ said Bette. ‘Might be time to stop giving her space.’ 

Tina moved to lay down on her back. Bette started to rub her eye, then flinched as a lancing pain went through her skull.

‘You want me to rinse that with saline?’ said Tina.

‘I’ll do it,’ said Bette.

In the en suite, she found some saline and sluiced it over her eye. Then she flipped the light off, stripped and got into bed. They lay there, not touching, until Bette turned on her side.

‘We get Saturday right, we fill up the calendar, restructure the debt and the staff, and six months from now this place is running like a Rolls-Royce.’

Tina said nothing, but after a long moment she shifted and moved into Bette’s arms. Bette rubbed her cheek gently against her wife’s silky hair. ‘It’ll all be okay,’ she whispered. They kissed. It was short, and it was chaste, but it mattered.

‘I hate my zapper,’ said Tina, snuggling in again.

‘I know.’ 

‘I love you.’

Bette kissed Tina’s hair. ‘Thank you for tonight.’

Tina’s breathing deepened. In seconds she was asleep, and Bette went back to working out just how, exactly, it would all be okay.