Knit One Pearl One

by Gil McNeil

  “Thank God for that. Even Pollyanna has her moments. And what do you decide?”

  “Yes. This is it.”

  “Great, that’s totally bloody inspirational.”

  “What do you want me to say? It’s okay to go off and have a fling? I don’t think it is.”

  “No, and neither do I, that’s the problem. If Harry ever did that to me, I’d kill him.”

  We’re both laughing now.

  “Every silver lining has its cloud, Ellen.”

  “Yes, and I’ve got my new series to obsess about anyway; that’ll keep me out of trouble.”

  “Is that definite now?”

  “Yes. Signed off and everything, contracts done, half an hour weekday mornings, starting next month. Just me and no bloody has-been male anchors cluttering up my set.”

  “That’s fantastic, Ellen, well done.”

  She sits down at the kitchen table, still holding the tea towel. I’ve nearly finished the drying, but I hand her a glass. “Dry it, and we can have a drink to celebrate.”

  “You’re on. Just what I need, nice large vodka and tonic. And I think your Diva would be an ideal first guest you know, darling.”

  “Ellen, you promised.”

  “I know, but she’ll be doing PR for her new film. Have a word, would you?”

  “What, ask her to agree to go on your new program and spill the beans on her personal life like she’s never done before, that kind of thing?”

  “Ideally, yes.”

  “No.”

  “I am your best girlfriend, darling, there must be some perks.”

  “I’ll knit you something.”

  “Actually, that might work.”

  “Sorry?”

  “She can come on and knit, and you can be on too, as her official knitting coach. It would be fabulous for business, darling, and it would give it a hook, add to her general profile stuff, they’ll like that. Is her agent going to be there tomorrow?”

  “Ed, yes, I think so.”

  “Fine, I’ll have a quiet word.”

  “You will not. You promised. Bruno will throw you out.”

  “Okay, okay. God, you’re bossy. When did you get so bossy?”

  “When I woke up one morning and found I’d got three kids and a shop to run?”

  “I know, it’s a complete choker, isn’t it? The other day I woke up and I was still half asleep and there was this terrible noise. Harry was having a bath with Eddie and singing to him, and I thought, Christ, how did that happen? It was a bit scary, like I was in a parallel universe, and I’d been having this great dream about Brad Pitt.”

  “And you were?”

  “Angelina, obviously.”

  She hands me a vodka, with very little tonic.

  “God, that’s strong.”

  “It’s meant to be, darling, otherwise it doesn’t work. So how are you and Dovetail then?”

  “Fine.”

  “I think we need a bit better than fine, don’t we?”

  “It’s good. It’s just, well, the last time he came round, I fell asleep.”

  “Fell asleep in the middle of—”

  “Yes, thank you. I really don’t want to go into details.”

  She’s trying not to laugh. Which is annoying.

  “Well, that happens sometimes, darling.”

  “He was making the coffee, and I fell asleep, that’s all. Look, let’s talk about something else.”

  “What, like how lovely our babies are? Boring. How crap work is? Boring. Sex and drugs and rock and roll are my specialist subjects, darling.”

  “What drugs?”

  “Well okay, mostly vodka, but come on, Share. I’m not going to let this one go.”

  “There’s nothing to share. He was really sweet about it, left me a note and everything. It was just, well, it can’t be a good sign, can it?”

  “But you do have passionate moments?”

  “Yes, sort of. It’s not really Martin’s style, or mine, but we have our moments.”

  “Maybe you need to dress up as a tree or something, since he’s so into Wood. Makes a change from those bloody nurse uniforms.”

  “Ellen, shut up.”

  “Sorry darling. But honestly, you have to make a bit of an effort, you know. Role play, surprise him, that kind of thing. Dress up as a French maid in the middle of the afternoon, although why they have to be bloody French escapes me, the only French women I know would give you very short shrift if you tried to get them into a black nylon miniskirt.”

  “And what do I do with the children then, when I’m surprising people in fancy dress at teatime, tell them to put their hands over their eyes and count to one hundred?”

  “What about the shop? You could come up and have a great time there, dress up as a nurse and show him all about proper First Aid in the Workplace.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea, and then when his mother wanders in and has a heart attack, it’ll be handy to be in the right kind of uniform, for when the ambulance turns up.”

  We’re both nearly hysterical with laughing now.

  “It’s tricky, Ellen. I can’t leave the kids, and he can’t be away all night or Trevor will eat the barn. So we end up having supper at home, and then we sit in front of the fire—”

  “And shag like rabbits.”

  “Ellen, please.”

  “Just spice it up a bit.”

  “Spicy things make my mouth go numb, and then I’m sick.”

  “Well don’t put anything in your mouth, darling.”

  Oh God, we’re both cackling again.

  “And that’s another thing; there’s usually someone small in my bed. It’s just too complicated, until the kids are older. Let’s talk about something else now. This is so not helping.”

  “Well it’s helping me, darling. I thought I had problems with Harry. But at least he’s never actually made me fall asleep.”

  “He didn’t make me fall asleep, Ellen, I was just really tired. We have been talking about booking a couple of nights away somewhere though.”

  “Well get him to bloody book it then. When was the last time you had a break away from the kids?”

  “Pass.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Not since Jack was born.”

  “Christ, I didn’t realize. Well no wonder you fell asleep, darling. Seriously, didn’t you and Nick go off to that festival thing one year, in Italy?”

  “Yes. And we took Jack, and I spent most of the time in the hotel room trying to get him to sleep in the world’s most useless travel cot.”

  “Okay, well there’s your problem then, darling. You need a mini-break more than any woman I know. Nice spa, buy the kind of lingerie you don’t want anyone to see hanging on your washing line, and away you go.”

  “No thanks. I like the idea of a passionate interlude now and again, but I’m not dressing up, I’d feel like a total fool, and Martin wouldn’t like it, I know he wouldn’t. It would probably make him laugh.”

  “If you found the right outfit he wouldn’t be laughing, trust me, darling. But whatever floats your boat. He does though, doesn’t he? Float your boat, at least for the occasional day trip?”

  “Yes, and can we please not talk about bloody boats.”

  “Okay, so keep him for Mr. Friday Night for now, and see how it goes. Just try to stay awake, darling. Now enough about you, let’s talk about special me. Because I need a top motherhood tip, I really do. He threw porridge at me this morning.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t, Ellen.”

  “He bloody did. I’d just finished getting dressed, and I wanted a little kiss, he looks so sweet sitting in his high chair, and the next thing I knew the little sod had dolloped porridge all over my new tweed skirt. I had to get changed.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “He thought it was fabulous, he was chucking stuff everywhere. I think we’re going to have to rethink giving him a spoon. He can fling stuff right across the bloody kitchen now.”

  “You
wait until he works out he can chuck the whole dish. I’ve had to get those bowls with suction cups on the bottom so I can stick them to the high chair, which is all Archie’s fault for trying to teach her how to throw a bloody Frisbee.”

  “I’ll watch out for that one then. Maybe I could avoid mealtimes altogether.”

  “Coward.”

  “Too right. I don’t have the kind of wardrobe for spillages.”

  “Well get one then, that’s my top tip.”

  “Charming. Maybe I can get some of those trousers with elasticated waists and give up altogether.”

  “They’re very comfy.”

  “They’d bloody need to be. Talking of which, what are you wearing tomorrow? Not those jeans?”

  “What’s the matter with them?”

  “They’re completely the wrong shape.”

  “They’re the same shape I am.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re not wearing them. What else have you got?”

  “A Vivienne Westwood gown, with six-inch heels.”

  “Perfect. Out-Diva the Diva, that’s the spirit.”

  Great. So now all I’ve got to do is stop Maxine throwing Ellen out of the party for pitching interview bids in the middle of the tea and cakes, and work out what to wear that will be up to Ellen’s exacting standards. I might as well stay in bed.

  Christ. It’s snowing. It’s the tea party this afternoon, and it’s definitely starting to bloody snow.

  The kids are hysterical, and charge around outside collecting snowflakes in outstretched fingers. Pearl’s transfixed, and Eddie seems to be enjoying it too. Thankfully it’s not really settling, so they soon get bored and come back in for cartoons. But still. Bloody hell. Poor Maxine.

  She calls, sounding panicky. “Grace is thrilled, but what will we do if it really snows and everyone gets marooned? Where on earth will we put them all?”

  “Don’t worry, it never gets that bad round here, and the forecast only says light flurries.”

  “Well I hope they’re right, because the caterers are already driving Sam nuts, and Mr. Magic has called me twice already this morning.”

  “The children’s entertainer?”

  “Yes, although what would make him really magical is if he could just get on with it and stop calling me. Oh, and Grace says she wants you to get here early. Come around two, that’ll give us an hour before anyone else arrives.”

  “Can I bring Cinzia and Gran and Reg? Only that way they can watch the kids if Grace wants, well, anything.”

  “Wants you all to herself you mean, which she will. So yes, bring them. Just not anyone else, not until we’re parade ready.”

  “Sure.”

  “I better go. Bruno seems have sacked two of the event security team.”

  “Event security?”

  “Just extra muscle to stop the snappers climbing over the walls.”

  “Why did he sack them?”

  “They made fun of Tom and Jerry I think. Who knows? But I better sort it out.”

  “See you later.”

  “If I haven’t run away.”

  “Max, it’ll be fine.”

  “It better be. She’s in a funny mood. She usually obsesses about the tiniest detail, but today, well, she’s not. It’s very disconcerting.”

  “That’s because she knows you’re doing it for her.”

  “Thanks Jo, see you later.”

  “On a sledge if necessary.”

  “Sledges, God, do you think I should have sledges on standby?”

  “Max, it was a joke, and anyway, the place will be seething with Range Rovers and Jeeps. They’re meant to be able driving through arctic forests; a light flurry isn’t going to stop them. We can drive people out in shifts if we have to.”

  “That’s true. Okay, I feel better now. See you later.”

  Poor thing. If I’d got a mixture of VIPs from London and locals descending on me for tea with a light dusting of snow for extra drama, I think I might be a little bit panicky too.

  Gran is astonished at how grand it all looks as we drive into Graceland. She even waves at the photographers outside, and one waves back, which is a bit mortifying. Reg is following us with the boys in his car, which he’s washed specially for the occasion.

  “Isn’t it lovely, it’s like something out of a film, and the snow looks so pretty, it’s almost settling.”

  “Yes, Gran.”

  Cinzia says something in Italian. “When I am the grown-up, this is the house I want.”

  “Good plan, Cinzia. Can we come and see you when you get it?”

  “Yes, you and the Principessa. The boys, maybe not so much. Archie, he tell me today I am stupid horrible. Because I cannot find the flipper.”

  “They’re too small, I’ve told him. He doesn’t need his snorkel either really, but he definitely doesn’t need his flippers. I hope you told him he’s not allowed to be rude to you like that.”

  “No, I was laughing.”

  “That works too.”

  “I hope I look smart enough.”

  “You look lovely, Gran.”

  She’s wearing the suit she bought for her wedding. She said she’d been saving it for a special occasion, and now she’s got one. When I spoke to Elsie earlier, she was still deciding between her new blue dress and her old wool crepe, which she says makes her neck go red. Jeffrey’s bringing her along later, poor man; she made him race out and buy a new suit yesterday after I got him added to the guest list.

  Maxine’s waiting by the side door as we park. Bruno is standing next to her with Tom and Jerry looking spotless. Bugger. The boys will want to say hello, and I was hoping not to arrive at the poshest event we’ve ever attended covered in dog dribble.

  “Hello, Bruno.”

  “Hi, Jo. You got your lads with you? Brought the dogs round specially.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Come on, Grandad, come and see Tom and Jerry.”

  Reg doesn’t look that convinced that two enormous Rottweilers really are the ideal dogs for Jack and Archie to be racing toward at full pelt, but Bruno shouts “Lie Down!” and both dogs hurl themselves to the ground and start rolling around for tickling, which is more than Trevor ever manages.

  Maxine raises her eyebrows. “Will this take long, Bruno? Only I’d quite like to get Jo inside. It’s rather cold. You may have noticed, what with the snow and everything.”

  “They’re just saying hello.”

  A pair of security guards in smart blue uniforms walk past and make a determined effort to look the other way.

  Bruno stands up. “Update in ten minutes at the gatehouse, yes?”

  “Yes, guv.”

  I’m sure I can see them exchanging a smile as they walk away. I just hope Bruno didn’t spot it.

  “What on earth are you doing out here?”

  Grace has got huge foam curlers in her hair and is wearing a kimono, which while being very beautiful, clearly signals she’s not actually dressed yet. But I’ve noticed before how she’s very relaxed about wandering around half dressed, looking gorgeous, even in curlers.

  “Bruno, the boys can see the dogs later. Isn’t there something more important you should be doing now?”

  “Yes, of course, I was just—”

  “We’ll put that on your tombstone, you know, ‘I was just.’ Max, write that down. ‘Here lies Bruno. He was just.’ Anyway, hello everybody, lovely to see you, please excuse the chaos. Jo, I need a few minutes.”

  Maxine steps forward. “Would the boys like a swim? And Cinzia, isn’t it?”

  Cinzia smiles, one of her biggest, most stunning smiles, which even Grace notices.

  Maxine gives her an admiring look. “Could you take them swimming, Cinzia?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Actually Maxine, I’m not sure she can take all three of them. Maybe later, when I can go in too.”

  Or not, if I can think of a way to get out of it.

  Maxine gives me a slightly anxious look. “Oh,
right, it’s just, well, Meg’s taking Lily down, and she’d love it if the children joined her.”

  Gran puts her hand on Archie’s shoulder. “You’re all right, pet; me and Reg will go in too. Well, not in, but if there’s a seat, we’ll sit by the edge and watch, so Cinzia’s not on her own.”

  “Thanks, Gran.”

  She’s in for a nice surprise; there’s a range of posh loungers, so they’ll be able to watch in comfort.

  Grace gives everyone another megawatt smile as we walk across the hall, and they head off toward the pool.

  “Where did you get such a gorgeous nanny, darling?”

  “She’s more of an au pair really; she’s over from Italy staying with Connie.”

  “Italian, that explains it, such gorgeous hair. Let’s go and grab some tea before we go up. Sam is in meltdown, and that’s always fun.”

  Maxine shakes her head as we walk toward the kitchen and points to the stairs. I think I’m meant to get Grace upstairs as soon as I can and away from poor Sam. Although how she thinks I’m going to manage that is anybody’s guess.

  Sam’s looking Stressed. “I’ll send someone up with the tea, is that okay? Do you need anything else?”

  “Jo, would you like something to eat? I’m sure Sam can rustle you up something delicious.”

  Sam gives me a beseeching look over Grace’s shoulder.

  “No thanks, Grace, I’m fine. Just a cup of tea would be lovely.”

  I turn to walk toward the door, hoping Grace will follow me, and miraculously, she does.

  Maxine’s very impressed and gives me the thumbs-up sign as we walk back across the hall. At least I’ve done something to help, even if it’s only keeping Grace occupied.

  “Did you bring the wool?”

  “Yes, it’s in the car. I’ve found some lovely new organic angora mix from Wales, and some grays and slate blues from that Scottish mill, the one in that article I showed you. I’ve brought some more of the baby cashmere too. Shall I go and get it?”

  “No, bring it in later. I need a favor first.”

  “Of course.”

  She smiles. “You don’t know what it is yet.”

  “No, but I’ll give it a go.”

  “It’s rather personal.”

  Oh, God, I hope it’s not anything to do with wax. Ellen asked me to help her do an emergency leg wax once, and it was a complete disaster.