‘We’ve got a trumping cow,’ Marcus said. ‘Any good?’
‘S’pose that’s funny too,’ she conceded.
‘Well, thanks, 1st Egglethwaite Beavers,’ Marcus said, giving them a three-fingered Scout salute. ‘See you all again at Christmas.’
By the time we left, our list of ‘would like to see’ consisted of a T-Rex, the Baby Jesus, a pooing donkey, a full chorus of Pokémon, Craig Revel Horwood from Strictly Come Dancing and Billy Bantam, the Bradford City FC mascot. This was shaping up to be one hell of a surreal pantomime.
Chapter 19
With some of the cast away on their summer hols, there was no panto rehearsal the following week, which was a shame. It was Cole’s dinner party on the Friday, and I could have used something to take my mind off it.
The guest list now consisted of my brother and Tom; Patrick, the classics lecturer at Cole’s college, and his wife Gala; and the ones I was really dreading, Cole’s snotty friend Ryder and his even more horrific wife. Lana couldn’t come – my parents, Gerry and Sue were all away so she was needed for babysitting duty while Stew manned the restaurant. On reflection, that was kind of a relief. She wasn’t noted for her tact, and it was going to take all of mine just to get through the night.
I’d spent all week planning the menu. Gala was a vegan, Ali gluten-intolerant, and then there was our Cam, a picky little bugger who claimed mushrooms made him gag. I decided to play it safe: melon boat starter, lentil and butternut squash roast and a vegan, gluten-free chocolate tart.
‘How’s it going? Can I help?’ Cole said when he came into the kitchen, smart-casual in a shirt and dark jeans. It was a bit of a contrast with my tomato-splodged sweatpants and frazzled hair.
‘Not dressed like that you can’t. Why don’t you set the table in the living room?’ I cocked an eyebrow. ‘We are ok with living room, aren’t we? Ryder and Ali won’t expect me to call it the day parlour or something?’
Cole smiled. ‘Come on, they’re not that bad.’
They were worse, but Cole had a massive blind spot when it came to his best friend. I suppose when you’ve known each other since you were 11, away at boarding school without your parents, it’s bound to form a pretty strong bond. Cole didn’t talk about it much but I guessed it had been a lonely time for him. As fantastic an opportunity as a scholarship to the country’s top public school must’ve seemed to Cole’s parents, if he’d been my little boy, I’m not sure I could’ve let him go.
‘If you say so,’ I said, determined to stay diplomatic. ‘You go do the table. I’ll just finish preparing the roast then get myself dressed.’
An hour later, everything was set. We’d told people 7pm, and sure enough, at practically seven on the nose there was a knock at the door.
I straightened my grey lace cocktail dress, pushed on the sequinned flats that I hoped were both practical and glam, and went to answer.
Tom and Cam were there, looking flustered and very much not dressed for a dinner party. Between them, in her favourite princess skirt and the top half of a Spiderman costume, was Pip.
‘Becks, I am so sorry about this,’ Cam said, leaning forward to peck my cheek. ‘Lana’s got a tummy bug. We would’ve sent apologies, but we didn’t want to let you down when you’d been cooking all day.’
Pip hopped up on the step and threw her arms round my legs. ‘So I can come to the party too.’
‘You won’t like this party, Pips,’ Tom said. ‘It’s just boring grown-ups talking. But I brought your new colouring book and pencils. And if you’re quiet playing in Aunty Becky’s room on your own for a little while, we’ll bring you up some pudding.’ He shot me a pleading look. ‘Do you mind, Becks? We didn’t know what else to do. We’ll just have to eat quickly then shoot off so she’s not up too late.’
‘Of course not.’ I lifted Pip up in my arms and gave her a kiss. ‘Since when do I mind my favourite niece coming to visit?’
‘If the party’s boring, you can come upstairs and play too, Aunty Becky,’ Pip told me earnestly. ‘We can make dens.’
God, I wished I could. Making dens with Pip sounded ten times more fun than making worthy conversation with Cole’s friends.
‘I can’t, sweetie. It’s my party, so it’d be bad manners.’ I lowered my voice. ‘But I’ll try to sneak up while everyone’s having pudding and we can have a quick game.’
‘’K.’
I ruffled her hair and put her down.
‘Go in the kitchen and get yourselves a drink,’ I said to the lads. ‘There’s Ribena for Pip. She can say hello to everyone before she goes upstairs.’
Professor Patrick arrived next, along with his wife Gala. They were rather a surprise. I’d been expecting a couple around our age, but these two must’ve been well into their seventies. Patrick sported a pointed grey goatee that extended down to his chest, and Gala’s hair fell around her bare shoulders in long, blue braids. Both seemed very big on crocheted hemp and tie-dye. I would have bet good money they could’ve sold my dad some weed.
The pair greeted me with a warm hug each, and Gala handed over a bottle of wine.
‘Cole said there was no need, but you can never have too much, that’s our philosophy,’ Patrick said.
‘Thank you, that’s very kind. Go through to the living room, please,’ I said. ‘Oh, and if a small thunderbolt hurtles into your legs, don’t worry. That’s just my niece, Pip. Bit of a babysitter cock-up so she’ll be joining us for part of the evening.’
‘Oh, how lovely,’ Gala said, beaming. ‘What age is she?’
‘Six.’
‘The same as Royle – that’s our grandson. He’s a handful, but we can’t get enough of him.’
Ryder and Ali arrived last, fashionably late to the point of rudeness. We were all on our second glass of wine, wondering whether they were coming at all, when a knock finally sounded at the door.
Patrick was kneeling on the floor, letting Pip plait his goatee while he taught her the lyrics to Let It Go in Latin. Cole and Gala were chatting like old friends, having discovered a shared love of Dalí, while I talked pantomime with Tom and Cam. It was all so cosy and nice, I was actually disappointed when the last two guests arrived.
Cole and I went together. It took a good minute for him and Ryder to get the back-slapping out of their systems.
‘Thanks for coming all this way, Ryd,’ Cole said at last.
‘How could I resist? I couldn’t wait to see this so-called “rural idyll” that had lured my best friend away from the bright lights.’
‘We’ve been doing a tour of the village,’ Ali said, with no apology for the fact they were nearly an hour late. ‘Quaint little place, isn’t it?’
Not waiting for an answer, she leaned forward to air-kiss me on each cheek. ‘Well, Becky, I can see the country air is certainly agreeing with you. You’re looking positively buxom.’
Ah, buxom, that old chestnut. Backhanded body-shaming was a speciality of Ali’s. But I was on best behaviour, so I just smiled politely.
Cole led us all through to the living room. Ryder and Ali blinked with surprise at the strange little scene in front of them.
‘This is Patrick, a colleague of Cole’s.’ I nodded to the professor, who’d taken his seat at the table and was chatting to Tom and Cam. His wife, on the other hand, was lying face down on the floor with Pip sitting on her back, piling her blue braids on top of her head. ‘And his wife Gala.’
The old lady looked up and grinned. ‘How do you do? I’m sorry, you’ve just caught me at the salon.’
Pip giggled. ‘Her hair is like snakes.’
‘Er, my niece, Pip,’ I said. ‘She’s just going upstairs to do some lovely colouring for us. Aren’t you, sweetie?’
Pip nodded happily, not taking her eyes off her hairdressing.
‘And her dads, my brother Cameron and his husband Tom,’ I sa
id. ‘Everyone, Ryder and Ali.’
Ryder subjected Tom and Cam to a curious inspection, and they sent a pair of puzzled smiles back.
‘Well, I must say, I had no idea you were so forward-thinking up here.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Gala glanced up at him from under Pip.
‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s fantastic.’ Ryder pulled up a chair. ‘I just thought… well, in London, you know, it’s part of the fabric. But it’s great to see the modern world has reached as far as this.’
I saw Tom glance at Cam, who looked like he was about to say something, and give his head an almost imperceptible shake.
Gala’s smile had taken on a dangerous quality. ‘Oh yes, we’re very modern – Ryder, is it? We even manage to eat with knives and forks these days. Of course, there’s still the odd virgin sacrifice, these high-spirited yokels –’
Cole laughed loudly. ‘How funny. Er, Becky. Why don’t you take Pippa upstairs while I start serving the food?’
‘Come on then, tiny,’ I said, holding a hand out to Pip. I nodded to Cam. ‘Can you come help, please, Daddy?’
‘I am so sorry about this,’ I whispered to him when we’d installed Pip on mine and Cole’s bed with her colouring book.
‘If I punch that guy Ryder, how long would it take for you to start speaking to me again?’
‘Are you kidding? I’d give you a bloody Brother of the Year medal.’
He shook his head. ‘Tell you what, you’re lucky we’ve only got the quiet Donati here.’
‘I’m not sure Gala isn’t channelling Lana for tonight. It was about to turn a bit nasty there.’
‘Why is Cole friends with these people, Becks?’
‘Him and Ryder were at school together,’ I said, feeling defensive of Cole even while I was annoyed with him for not telling his stupid friend to shut up. ‘I get the sense it’s kind of an unbreakable bond.’
‘Then thank God Mum and Dad never sent us to boarding school. Imagine having an unbreakable bond with a tit like that the rest of your life.’
I sighed. ‘I’m sorry I made you come, Cam. I had no idea the concept of “northern and gay” was going to be such a bloody novelty to him.’
‘Let’s just get through the night.’ He went over to the bed and kissed an oblivious Pip. ‘Be good, Pips. Try to stay in the lines. I’ll check on you after the first course.’
‘And bring pudding?’
He smiled. ‘And bring pudding.’
‘And you play with anything you like,’ I said. She was round often enough that I kept the place kiddy-safe. ‘Make a den if you want. I’ll come up and see it when it’s done.’
‘’K. Bye bye.’ She was only half listening. Her tongue was poking out of the corner of her mouth as she focused all her attention on her colouring.
Downstairs, Cole had served everyone their melon boat but I noticed a few empty wine glasses.
‘Ryder. Ali. You haven’t got a drink,’ I said. ‘And it looks like everyone else could use a top-up. Let me get another bottle open.’
I uncorked a couple of bottles of red wine and plonked them in the middle of the table for everyone to help themselves. The look Ali shot Ryder suggested this probably wasn’t good hostessing etiquette, but it was a white tablecloth and I was so on edge by this point, my hands were trembling.
‘Darling, you did chambrer the wine?’ Cole asked when he’d poured himself a glass, swilling it about.
I blinked at him.
‘I mean, you got it to room temperature before you served it?’ he said patiently.
‘Well it’s been sitting in the same Morrison’s bag on the kitchen counter since I brought it home yesterday, so yes, guess I did.’
Ali trilled with laughter. ‘Becky, you are priceless.’
‘Yeah. With material like that, you should be on the stage,’ Cam muttered in my ear.
‘We did bring a bottle of the good stuff for you actually,’ Ryder said. ‘I know you two have limited funds.’ Ali reached in her handbag and handed Cole some wine. ‘Château Pape Clément.’
Cole shook his head. ‘Honestly, Ryd, you shouldn’t. Not at £120 a bottle.’
Tom nearly choked on his Morrison’s rioja. ‘How much?’ he gasped.
‘It might be £120 a bottle at Harrod’s, but not to me,’ Ryder said. ‘My father got cases of the stuff when he was in Bordeaux last month. Come on, old man, have a glass with me.’
And this, this was what he was like. I’d never realised until I’d started seeing Cole that there were people outside PG Wodehouse who called each other ‘old man’.
It wasn’t that Ryder was posh. Cole was posh, but other than the occasional miscommunication over what the hell chambrering was, the fact we had very different backgrounds didn’t really cause problems. It’s that the man was so bloody rude. The one thing you could say in his favour was that at least he didn’t seem to realise he was doing it, which was more than I could say for Ali, who was a terrible snob. The whole time I’d known the pair of them, she’d actively gone out of her way to make me feel small.
‘And how are your parents, Becky?’ she asked. ‘Still in their – what was it, a fish and chip shop?’
And off she went again…
Cole caught my eye, noticed it glinting dangerously and turned immediately to Patrick.
‘How’s the masterpiece progressing, Pat?’
‘Oh! Do you paint too?’ I asked, genuinely interested. Not to mention relieved, because if Ali opened her mouth again I was going to shove my bloody melon into it.
‘No, I compose,’ he said. ‘Not professionally, of course. Still, there’s something about the creative process I find very soothing.’ He laughed. ‘But I’m preaching to the converted here, aren’t I?’ He nodded to Ryder. ‘Cole tells me you run an art gallery. Do you paint yourself?’
Ryder managed a civil answer, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the conversation turned to art and everyone finished their melons in a spirit of relative bonhomie.
‘How long has the roast been on?’ I whispered to Cole when it looked like everyone was nearly done.
He blinked at me. ‘What?’
‘The roast. I asked you to put it on when you’d finished serving the melon.’
Cole stared for a second, then dropped his head to his hands. ‘Oh no.’
‘You’re not serious? Cooking time’s an hour, Cole!’
‘I’m so sorry, darling. Isn’t there anything quick you can knock up instead?’
‘Like what, beans on toast? I spent most of the afternoon preparing that.’ I glanced around the table, where the conversation was limping a bit. ‘Jesus. Ok, keep everyone busy. I’ll sort this.’
Dashing into the kitchen, I dug out my mobile and pulled up the number for Pie and a Pint.
‘Stew? It’s me. Look, I know it’s last-minute, but can you do us a big favour?’
Twenty minutes later, there was a tap at the back door. Stew was outside in his cycling helmet, holding a couple of carrier bags.
‘One vegan, one pork, one gluten-free cheese and onion and four chicken and mushroom, plus seven cartons of mushy peas and seven of mash,’ he said.
‘Oh God, you’re a lifesaver. Thanks, Stew, I owe you.’
‘Thank Deano, he made them. How’s it going anyway?’
‘This is the single worst night of my entire existence,’ I told him fervently. ‘Remind me never, ever to host a dinner party again.’
He grinned. ‘That well, eh?’
‘Well, at least it can’t get much worse.’
Talk about famous last words…
Chapter 20
When Stew had gone, I started dishing up. It was then I realised the problem.
There were only seven portions. I’d been so busy making sure we had all the dietary requirements covered, I’d f
orgotten to order myself a bloody pie.
Fine. Right. Ok. I’d just tell them I was on a diet. I could always make a sandwich later.
When I went back in, I found Ali eyeing Tom and Cam like exhibits in a museum.
‘It’s amazing what they can do these days, isn’t it?’ she was saying.
Tom blinked. ‘Sorry – what who can do?’
‘Well, doctors. So which of you is the child’s real father?’
Cam glanced at Tom. ‘Um, we both are?’
‘Oh, yes, yes, of course,’ she said, waving a hand. ‘But biologically speaking. Or did you mix the sperm so you wouldn’t know?’
‘Did we…’
‘Pip’s adopted, actually,’ I said, grabbing the rioja and filling my glass to the brim. Not that it’s any of your fucking business… ‘And I’m not sure my brother’s sperm’s really a suitable topic for the dinner table, thanks, Ali.’ I downed a large mouthful of wine, meeting her eye defiantly.
Cole looked horrified, but Gala nodded her approval. Anyway, it wiped the smirk off Ali’s face.
‘We’d, um, better check on Pip,’ said a shellshocked Cam. ‘She’s suspiciously quiet up there. Come on, Tommy.’
‘Well, it must be time for the main,’ Gala said from behind a forced smile. ‘Becky, let me give you a hand in the kitchen.’
‘No need. It’s all served up.’ I glanced round the table. ‘Er, I thought that since we had friends from out of town here we’d have a proper northern tea. Pie and peas.’
Ali’s eyebrows raised. ‘Pie and…’
‘Mushy peas. Yep. Oh, and mash too.’
Patrick grinned. ‘Now, that’s just about the best news I’ve heard all night.’
A worried Cameron appeared at the living room door.
‘Um, Becks?’ he said in a low voice. ‘Could I borrow you a minute please?’
‘Excuse me,’ I said to the guests. ‘Gala, Cole, would the two of you mind serving up? There’s none for me. I’m on a diet.’
I found Cameron at the foot of the stairs, looking guilty.
‘There’s been a bit of a problem.’
The Perfect Fit Page 15