Yngve explained it all later, with an arm wrapped around Wallace’s neck, laughing in his ear. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said. ‘But, you know, she’s, like, vegan, so …’ Wallace tried not to look disappointed when he collected his dish of uneaten meatballs at the end of the night, tried not to think of the money he’d spent and the time in his kitchen, wiping sweat, towelling brown stains off his hands, trying to get it exactly right, trying to make the sauce perfect for them – and the little dish, he’d been so proud of the little dish, red
