When I finish my litany of woes, Roo says, ‘Stay there.’ Then she gets up, pads to the kitchen end of the open-plan space and returns with two steaming mugs of something that smells of apples and citrus and cinnamon and possibly vanilla. It’s the most comforting scent I could possibly imagine.
She hands me a mug. ‘Careful, it’s been steeping since just before you got home but it’s still very hot.’
‘What is it?’ I say, blowing on the surface.
‘My delicious Apfelstrudel tisane,’ she says.
‘Mixing your European languages there, aren’t you?’
‘Well, if you don’t want it …’ Roo reaches out towards the mug but I hold it away from her.
‘No! No, I want it.’ I take a sip. It’s sweet and tangy and soft and incredibly soothing. ‘Wow, this is amazing.Vielen Dank, Roo. Or should I saymerci beaucoup?’
‘I’ll accept either.’ Roo takes a sip from her own mug. ‘I came up with the recipe after Justin moved out. I’ve made a giant tin of it so I can brew a pot whenever I need it. All the ingredients are meant to make you feel more hopeful.’
‘Does it work?’ I inhale the comforting scent of the Apfelstrudel tisane and feel my shoulders relax, just a tiny bit.
‘I mean, right now I’m hoping Justin’s new house is hit by a tidal wave,’ says Roo, with a forced little laugh. ‘So it doesn’tnotwork.’
I feel another surge of anger at Justin for making Roo feel like this. ‘He’d deserve it.’
Roo sighs. ‘I know I’m better off without him. I really do. It’s just … what does it say about me that he’d rather live in the arse end of nowhere with that board-game woman than be here with me?’
I could tell her it says nothing about her and everything about Justin and his terrible taste. I could tell her that he was a fool to give her up. I could tell her that she’ll find someone better. And I’d mean it. But I know that won’t cheer her up right now. So I adopt another approach.
‘But Roo,’ I say, ‘think what their horrible house must be like, stuffed with all those games. Like a hoarder’s den. I bet all the rooms are totally crammed with boxes and they have to squeeze into them sideways.’
A hint of a smile passes over Roo’s face.
‘Picture it!’ I say. ‘Games all over the floor, the pair of them eating their dinner standing in a corner because the kitchen table’s covered in games. Ugh, revolting.’
‘Climbing over boring German games about farming to get to the kettle,’ says Roo.
‘I bet they can’t even fit a bed in that house,’ I say. ‘They probably sleep in a weird little nest among piles of games.’
‘And they can’t have sex because they’d knock over the piles and get buried under the boxes,’ says Roo. ‘A fitting end for them both.’
‘If they did manage to have sex she’d probably want him to dress up as the Monopoly man or something,’ I say.
‘Or the old boot,’ says Roo.
‘He never made you dress up as a Settler of Catan or anything like that, did he?’ I say.
Roo laughs, a proper laugh this time. ‘No! Oh God, ugh, stop.’
‘Not even Miss Scarlet from Cluedo?’
‘Shut up!’ Roo hits me with a cushion, but she’s still laughing. It feels good to make her laugh. She hasn’t been laughing enough recently.
‘I was going to make a joke about him dressing as Colonel Mustard, but I’ll say nothing now,’ I say.
‘He’d hate us even joking about him being into Monopoly or Cluedo,’ says Roo. ‘As if he’d ever deign to play anything so mainstream.’
‘At least you never have to spend two hours listening to Justin explain the rules of some new game again.’
‘Good point,’ says Roo.
We sit in companionable silence for a moment, sipping our tisanes.