by Gil McNeil
‘Can it go really fast?’
James looks pleased with himself.
‘Yes, Archie, very fast. But don’t tell your Aunty Fiona.’
Fiona turns to me and simpers.
‘I don’t like him breaking the speed limit, but with a car this powerful he does find it so hard to resist.’
I try to look suitably impressed, but it’s bloody freezing, and what I’d really like is for them to stop milling about so we can go back indoors, but I don’t think James is finished yet. He’s showing the boys the boot now, for some reason best known to himself, and Jack’s trying to look interested, bless him. Maybe I should follow his good example and try to be extra-friendly to Fiona, because apart from anything else being married to such a total prat can’t be easy.
‘It’s so lovely to see you all, and haven’t the girls grown? They’re so big now, aren’t they?’
They’re both standing next to their mother looking uncertain, wearing matching navy coats with velvet collars.
Fiona hisses something at me.
‘Sorry?’
‘Lottie’s very sensitive about her weight, so we’re trying not to talk about it.’
‘Oh, right. Sorry.’
She gives me an annoyed look, and now she’s mentioned it I notice Lottie’s coat is rather more of a snug fit than Beth’s.
Bugger.
‘Let’s go in, shall we?’
We walk up the path.
Elizabeth looks pointedly at the straggly rose bush by the door.
‘Haven’t you found a gardener yet, dear?’
‘No. I keep meaning to sort the garden out, but I haven’t got round to it yet. I thought I might do it myself actually.’
She smiles. ‘I’d get one if I were you, dear. Our Mr Jenner is a marvel; I don’t know what I’d do without him. Of course I can’t let him buy plants – he’s got no taste at all – but he keeps the lawns in very good condition, and nothing is too much trouble.’
I’m trying to smile back, but it’s quite hard, particularly since I know Mr Jenner hates her guts, and they have massive rows every year about how she plants things too early and then blames him when the frost gets them.
‘Good lord, what’s that?’
We turn to see Trevor bounding towards us up the path, followed by Christine. Bugger.
‘Sorry, he gave me the slip again. I didn’t realise you had visitors. I’m so sorry.’ She’s looking rather out of breath.
Trevor runs up the path and leaps up at Archie, and both the girls both start to scream.
Oh Christ.
‘Trevor, get down.’
He gives me a puzzled look, and starts to run round in circles, wagging his tail. I grab his collar.
Archie’s outraged. ‘Don’t shout at him, Mum. He’s only saying hello.’
Jack grins, and pats him, and the girls cower behind their mother, who’s looking horrified.
‘He’s very friendly, don’t worry.’
I hold the front door open a bit wider and they all belt into the hall and huddle together like there’s a large killer beast on the loose.
‘It’s only Trevor, he belongs to our neighbour, he often comes round to play with the boys, he’s fine, honestly.’
Elizabeth in particular is now looking at me like I’m a total nutter, as Christine gets hold of Trevor’s lead.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it. In you come, boys.’
‘Can’t we play football with Trevor?’
‘Not today.’
James makes a rather sarcastic-sounding noise.
‘Does he play football then?’
‘Yes. Why? Do you fancy a quick game?’
He looks appalled. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t know what you’re missing. He’s very good in goal.’
Gerald laughs. ‘Is he? I had a dog like that when I was a boy.’
Elizabeth gives him a furious look.
‘Well, I did. Pointer bitch, very good at rugby.’
Oh dear, now he’s said ‘bitch’ in front of Beth and Lottie, so Fiona’s Not Happy either.
She turns to me, looking rather thin-lipped. ‘Shall we put our coats over here?’
‘Yes, sorry. Let me hang them up for you.’
She hands me her coat. ‘Thank you. Are we in here?’
She looks towards the door of the living room and I’m very tempted to say no, you’re back outside in your stupid car, but I smile nicely and show them in. God, this is going to be a long day.
‘What a sweet little room. Isn’t that the same sofa you had in London? How clever of you, to keep the same furniture. You can buy new sets of covers, you know, if you want a little change. What interesting wallpaper. Super view of the garden. Oh, I forgot our presents. Do go and get them, darling.’
James goes out to the car, and I notice him looking nervously down the path before he steps out of the door. He comes back in with three presents wrapped in rather odd-looking brown paper with green splodges on it, and bits of twig tied on with green ribbon.
‘What lovely paper.’
‘I made it myself. I made all our wrapping paper this year – it’s simple to do and it makes things so much more personal, don’t you think.’
Christ.
‘Lovely.’
I open my present, which is a cookery book called Easy Entertaining, although not quite as easy as taking everyone to the pub, by the look of things. There’s a whole chapter on Seasonal Table Arrangements. Dear God. If only.
‘How lovely. Thank you so much.’
Serves me right for fobbing them off with gourmet olive oils, I suppose.
The boys both get French dictionaries, which they manage to look suitably grateful for, after an initial tricky moment when Archie looks like he might be about to Say Something.
‘It’s so important to learn other languages, don’t you think? The girls do French every week now, don’t you, darlings?’
They both nod unenthusiastically, especially Lottie.
Elizabeth sniffs. ‘Nicholas was very good at French.’
Oh God, here we go.
‘I’ll just make some coffee shall I?’
Fiona follows me into the kitchen and tells me all about her new oven, which has a rotisserie spit, and then James spends so long telling us about his latest triumphs on the golf course that I’m almost ready to spit, too. Elizabeth’s gone silent, which doesn’t bode well, and Gerald appears to have fallen asleep, although he often does this; he tends to put himself into standby mode until the food arrives.
‘I thought you might like to see the shop, on the way to lunch.’
Elizabeth frowns. ‘Aren’t we eating here, then?’
‘I thought the pub would be more fun.’
Gerald reactivates himself and sits up, looking alert.
‘Pub? Jolly good idea.’
I try to point out all the interesting architectural features of Broadgate as we walk to the shop, which isn’t easy because we haven’t really got any unless you’re into 1950s British Seaside (Faded), and the tour of the shop seems to leave them all underwhelmed, too, so I’m starting to feel mildly suicidal when a large black jeep pulls up outside.
‘Look, Daddy, that one’s much bigger than ours.’
James scowls and Lottie giggles; actually I’m rather warming to Lottie. The door opens and Bruno gets out, and then Grace emerges, waving, as if she was at a premiere, and sweeps into the shop and throws her arms round me.
‘Darling, I simply couldn’t resist when I saw you were here. I just had to pop in and give you this. I’m off up to town, but I thought I could pick up some more of that gorgeous wool you were showing me.’
Bloody hell. I don’t know what she’s playing at, but it’s certainly having quite an effect.
‘Of course. I’ll get it for you.’
She hands me a bag full of the squares for her flower blanket, and turns to Fiona, whose mouth is slight
ly open.
‘Do excuse us.’ She turns and winks at me. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, darling?’
Christ.
‘Oh, yes, sorry. This is Elizabeth and Gerald, and Fiona and James.’
Fiona looks totally gobsmacked, and even Elizabeth’s looking impressed.
‘Lovely to meet you all. Aren’t you thrilled with the huge success Jo’s making of her gorgeous shop? Isn’t it completely wonderful? I could spend hours in here – so many treasures. She’s such a genius, isn’t she?’
I hand her the bag of wool, and she turns to the boys.
‘I hope you’re both going to come and swim in the pool again soon. It was such fun last time, wasn’t it?’
They both nod.
‘Lovely to see you again, darling. I must be off.’ She kisses me again.
God, even I’m feeling rather dazzled now.
‘I’ll call you later.’
Fiona has recovered herself and clearly wants to make an impression.
‘We’re all such fans of your work.’
Grace gives her a dismissive look. ‘Are you? How sweet.’
‘And you’re, well, you’re even more beautiful in the flesh than in your films.’
Grace smiles.
‘Thank you, Leona. I must remember to tell that to my make-up and lighting team. They’ll be thrilled.’
‘Actually, it’s Fiona.’
‘Sorry?’
‘My name: it’s Fiona, not Leona. You said Leona, and I thought perhaps you hadn’t heard me.’
There’s a small silence. Grace gives her an imperious look, then turns, kisses me again, winks, and goes out.
‘Darling. Speak later.’
Bruno gives me the thumbs-up sign as he opens the car door, and they drive off.
Christ. How completely brilliant.
I turn to Leona, as I think I’ll be calling her from now on, at least inside my head, and smile.
‘I didn’t realise you knew Grace Harrison. I mean, we saw the thing in the papers about the shawls, but I didn’t realise you actually knew her.’
She’s looking a bit shaken, and Elizabeth and James are too. In fact only Gerald seems oblivious.
‘Who was that then?’
James groans. ‘Honestly, Father, do try to keep up. That was Grace Harrison, an important actress. Do you go to her house often, Jo?’
‘Fairly often. Shall we go to the pub now? I think our table will be ready.’
We walk up the hill and I start to feel like I’m no longer the uncouth person who’s not quite up to the standards of the rest of the family. It’s just brilliant. And then my phone beeps with a text from Maxine: Grace hopes recent guest performance was helpful. See you tomorrow. Max. How lovely of her. I can’t believe Grace did that for me, and I’m very touched. I text back Million thanks, which is the best I can do while I’m walking.
Fiona smiles at me. ‘Nothing important I hope?’
‘No. Just a message from Grace’s assistant.’
‘Oh. Right.’
Who knew all I needed was the intervention of a megastar to get my in-laws back on track.
Lunch goes very well, apart from Elizabeth and Fiona trying to get me to agree to ask Grace to come to one of their Golf Club things. Even James says the food is fabulous in the pub, and he’s usually very snooty about restaurants and likes a great deal more servility and bowing and scraping from waiters. The only slightly tense-making thing is that Connie’s promised to hit Elizabeth with a spatula if I give her the signal, only I’m not entirely sure what counts as a signal, so I’m slightly worried I’ll push my hair back behind my ears and inadvertently launch Operation Fish Slice, but thankfully we manage to avoid any unpleasant incidents. Lottie gives me a very sweet smile when she gets ice cream for pudding like her sister, instead of the fruit salad her mother’s been hinting at, and after another cup of coffee back at the house they’re off, thank God. Elizabeth promises to ring me later in the week with possible dates for the Golf Club dinner, despite my explaining that I think this is a bit of a long shot; why she thinks Grace would do guest appearances at Golf Club dinners is beyond me, and I can just imagine Maxine’s face if I asked her, so I think I’ll just ignore it and tell them she’s busy.
We stand waving them off as they drive down the street.
‘Lottie said bloody when we were eating our lunch.’
‘Don’t tell tales, Archie.’
‘But she did.’
‘Well never mind.’
‘I don’t mind. I like Lottie.’
Actually, I think I do, too. She must have the recessive family gene – and she’s going to need it with those two for parents, bless her.
‘Can we take Trevor out for a walk now, Mum? you promised we could.’
Bugger.
‘Yes, all right. But not for too long, Jack. It’ll be getting dark soon.’
Christine’s very pleased to see us, and full of apologies about earlier, and we head straight for the beach as the perfect choice for a late-afternoon walk in a freezing gale. Jesus Christ. I’m standing watching the boys throwing sticks for Trevor and losing the will to live when my phone rings and it’s Daniel. Damn. Why can’t he ever ring when I’m sitting down somewhere in the warm, ready for a bit of sparkling banter, instead of half frozen and sniffing.
‘Look, I’m sorry I haven’t managed to call you. It’s just been mad.’
‘Don’t worry about it, and thanks so much for the photographs: they’re lovely.’
‘You’re welcome. So how are you? Nice to be home?’
‘Yes, apart from the weather. It’s bloody freezing here.’
‘Don’t talk to me about freezing, I’ve spent the last few days digging Tony out of snowdrifts in Sweden.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘I’d have been better off with a bloody husky for an assistant. He’s been totally fucking useless.’
There’s the sound of scuffling in the background.
‘Tony says hello.’
‘Say hello back to him for me.’
‘She says, “Fuck off, you total loser.”’
‘Where are you?’
‘At the airport.’
‘Off anywhere nice?’
‘Barbados.’
‘Oh, please. Enough.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’ll make a nice change from Sweden, that’s for sure.’
‘Yes, although that’s kind of what I’m calling about. Hang on, I’ll move somewhere quieter.’
I hear flight announcements for a few seconds, and then he comes back on the line.
‘That’s better. Yes, Sweden. It wasn’t just work. Liv was over, staying with her parents actually and we met up. And, well to cut a long story short she’s left him. And moved in with me.’
This doesn’t sound good.
‘Who’s Liv?’
‘Sorry, I never told you her name, did I? She called Liv Bergstrom. You’ve probably seen her in things?’
Fucking hell. She’s almost as famous as Grace.
‘Yes, I have. She was in that film with the bank robbery wasn’t she?’
‘Yes. That’s how we first met, on a publicity shoot for Vanity Fair. But she’s very real, too, if you know what I mean. I think it’s the Scandinavian thing: they seem to be much more grounded over there, apart from all that pickled herring bollocks, of course. So I just wanted to let you know. Bad timing or what? I’m really sorry.’
‘It’s fine, Daniel, honestly. And I’m really pleased for you.’
‘Are you, really? That’s so great. I was hoping you might be, and I’m sure you’d get on. She knits, you know, she loves it. She’s been doing it for years. Maybe next time we’re over we could all meet up?’
‘I’d love that.’
‘Great. She’s got a film starting in a few weeks, but I think we might be around in the summer.’
‘Lovely.’
‘Great. I’ll call you then. And say hello to the boys for me,
and Trevor. Bye, angel.’
Damn and bugger it. It’s not like I feel as if my heart has been broken or anything, but still. Damn. Time to go home for tea, I think. I’ve got a large chocolate cake which I bought in case they all stayed for tea. But now I think crumpets in front of the fire and a large slice of chocolate cake are just what I need. I’ll call Ellen later. And I can finish off the baby shoes I’m knitting for Grace. And try to forget that little jolt when he called me angel. Damn.
Chapter Ten
The Great Escape
It’s my first proper day in the shop for nearly a week, due to a combination of Archie having a cold, and then Jack, culminating inevitably in me catching it. After a nightmare week of boxes of tissues and hot drinks merged with high temperatures and hacking coughs I’ve realised that, while in my head I like to think of myself as a proper mother who has cool hands ready to soothe fevered brows, and endless reserves of cheerful patience, it turns out that actually I’m not very patient at all, and rather prone to shouting things like ‘Just stop whining, for God’s sake’, and tutting when people leave their tissues all over the living-room floor. I managed to lose my voice completely by the end, so I was reduced to banging saucepan lids together to get them to be quiet. Which on reflection probably wasn’t quite as good an idea as it seemed at the time, because Archie’s taken to doing it every time he wants a bit of attention.
It’s Valentine’s Day soon, and I’m in the shop tying knitted pink hearts onto gingham ribbon to hang up in the window, although God knows why I’m bothering, since I’ve always hated Valentine’s Day and this year looks like being a particular corker.
I think I’ll give Ellen a call for a bit of moral support.
‘I’m feeling completely crap.’
‘Getting over a cold crap, or just in general?’
‘Just general, and bloody Valentine’s Day isn’t helping.’
‘Tell me about it. I was thinking of taking Harry off to Paris this year for a mini-break, but I’m not sure I fancy it with him still on his crutches. Although you’d be amazed what he can get up to with his leg propped on a cushion.’
‘Please. That’s exactly the kind of thing I don’t want to be hearing about.’
‘Are we talking about Daniel now, by any chance?’
‘No.’
‘Good, because I think you’re well out of that one, darling.’