Breadcrumbing?’ I repeated. ‘Sorry, Lydia, but did I miss something? I thought we were talking about me and Greg, not cooking.’
Lydia and I were perched on two high stools at the counter in Luca’s – the only seats we could find in our favourite café, due to the high volume of Christmas shoppers.
Lydia was my best friend. We’d known each other since school. Like me, she enjoyed facials, a bit of retail therapy, and Luca’s tiramisu layer cake – all of which we’d indulged in today. Unlike me, she loved Christmas.
But then Lydia had Darren, her husband, and their three grown-up kids. And soon she’d have a grandchild, too. Whereas my Christmas Day meant staying with my cousin, June, and her family, who were very kind but…