They actually skipped quiz night.
When Jo rang Stephen on Sunday evening and bent his ear for a good hour about wanting to strangle her own bridesmaids because they hadn’t bought matching shoes, Mike quietly packed the boot. The second Stephen hung up, Mike took the phone away and shepherded him towards the car.
“Where are we going?”
“Camping.”
“What about Molly?”
“Already texted Vikki.”
“Still.”
Stephen stopped off long enough to give the cat a quick fussing—who, being a cat and therefore a miniature fluffy god, was supremely uninterested in it—but then climbed into the passenger seat without further argument, and mildly suggested stopping off at the petrol station to fill up and get Pringles.
“Pringles?”
“Midnight snack!”
“I have something else you could snack on.”
“Not if you
