But when Kit and Piglet plumped for a carafe of rioja—the sixth wine on the list, her father had noted—they had ordered the house red, and when the bill came, their steak-greased lips had tightened. “One hundred and eighty-two pounds for four steaks?” her father asked under his breath as he ripped open his Velcro wallet and began to count out twenty-pound notes. Her mother tutted quietly, and Piglet felt the eyes of the neighbouring diners.
So her (decidedly not upper class) parents offer to pay, suggest pizza, her fiancé wants steak, they order an expensive bottle of wine, her parents are displeased by the price, and SHES embarrassed of THEM??
