Knit One Pearl One

by Gil McNeil

  Actually, I think a collection of parents and children having an ice cream party would seem like a walk in the park compared to an outside broadcast crew crawling all over the shop, trailing wires everywhere, with Britain’s Favorite Broadcaster and the Diva. Christ. I’m half hoping it doesn’t happen. It would be great for the business, obviously, but still. Bloody hell. Gran will need to take one of her tablets, and Elsie will probably self-combust.

  “Let’s go home, and we can talk about it.”

  “Yes, and I want a rabbit too, Mum, for my birthday. I really really do.”

  • • • 4 • • •

  Now We Are Seven

  April

  “Morning, darling.”

  “Ellen, do you know what time it is?”

  “It’s seven, but I knew you’d be up. Guess what I was doing this time last year?”

  “Giving birth?”

  “You were meant to guess.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It was such a perfect day.”

  Actually, it was, apart from the racing up the motorway in the middle of the night having a panic attack. I remember standing holding Eddie, so tiny in his little hospital blanket. Harry was in tears, we all were, even the midwife, but that may have been because Ellen had promised to get her fired.

  “I can’t believe he’s already a year old. Is he having a lovely birthday?”

  “He’s still asleep, so not so much with the Fast Eddie this morning, although he’s definitely getting the hang of the crawling, in typical speedy fashion. It’s terrifying; one minute he’s there and the next he’s off. I’m going to have to get some stair gates, I always said I wouldn’t, but I see the point of them now. I’ve got a huge pile of presents waiting for him. Honestly, I’ll have to wake them up in a minute, I can’t wait. Harry’s got me something too, I know he has.”

  “Clever Harry.”

  “Well it stands to reason the mum should get something. Didn’t Nick used to do that?”

  “He barely got me anything on my actual birthday, let alone the boys’ ones.”

  “Well I’ll get you something, for Archie’s birthday, and I’ve got that Lego set for him. What shall I bring for you?”

  “Drugs? I’ve still got an ice cream party and magic show to get through before you descend on us with your bloody film crew.”

  “It’ll be fine, darling, I’ve told you, just relax.”

  Relax. Is she mad? Ellen, Grace, Gran, Betty, and Elsie, and a film crew. What could possibly go wrong?

  “What shall I get for Eddie? You still haven’t told me.”

  “A nanny. Harry’s making a complete mess of it, as if I haven’t got enough on my plate with the program launch and half the boys in suits from the top floor trying to screw things up for me. Mind you, getting the exclusive with the Diva has shut a few of them up.”

  “Well if I can’t track Mary Poppins down, shall I get some Duplo? The boys loved that when they were little.”

  “That’s baby Lego, isn’t it? That would be perfect. Give him something else to chuck at Harry.”

  “Pearl, don’t do that, love, that doesn’t go in there.”

  “What’s she doing?”

  “Trying to put my milk saucepan into the washing machine.”

  “Bless.”

  “Oh yes, it’s delightful. I nearly put the lid from the casserole dish on fast spin yesterday, and God knows how much that would have cost to fix.”

  “You should get a new machine, one of those top-loading ones, and while you’re at it, get a bloody dishwasher.”

  “It is possible to live without a dishwasher you know.”

  “Yes, if you want to be a kitchen maid. How’s Archie coping with his birthday countdown? I used to hate all the waiting when I was little, I still do. Have you got the rabbit yet?”

  “Gran and Reg have got him at their house, in a small hutch. Martin’s making a grander version, only I hope he gets a move on, because the last I saw it, it was just a pile of wood.”

  I’m still not sure about the rabbit, but Archie was so struck by Mr. Magic at Grace’s party he’s been begging for weeks now.

  “It’s very sweet, black and white with lovely ears, only a baby, but I’m sure it won’t stay tiny for long. And guess who’ll be the idiot feeding it long after everyone else has got bored. We got him from one of Reg’s friends at the Bowls Club; he breeds them and takes them to shows and everything. It’s a whole new world.”

  “Rabbit world, who knew?”

  “You wait until your boy wants a pet.”

  “He can want all he likes; I’m not having anything that needs feeding or walking. He can have a virtual pet.”

  “ ‘Please, Mum, please, I’d be so happy; it’s all I ever wanted. Please.’ You stand no chance.”

  “Peas.”

  “Was that my gorgeous girl?”

  “Yes, it’s one of her new words. She’s not really that keen on thank you yet, but I live in hope. Look, I better get her some breakfast, before she rearranges the whole kitchen.”

  “Bye, darling, speak later, and happy birth days to us, yes?”

  “Definitely.”

  I’m enjoying a cup of tea, and a quiet moment with Pearl and our slices of toast and honey, her breakfast of choice at the moment, when the phone rings again.

  Bugger. It’s Mum.

  “I’ve just been talking to your brother, darling, he’s back for a few days after Easter before he’s off messing about on one of those silly boats again.”

  “Vin’s a marine biologist, Mum, and so is Lulu; they’re not messing about, it’s their job.”

  “Yes, well, they’re back, and please call him Vincent, darling; it’s such a lovely name. Vin sounds like he drives a van. Anyway, your father and I need a break, or rather I do, your father’s fine, wandering about as usual with not a care in the world; the time he takes to do a simple job, anything at all, is completely ridiculous. But I’ve got so much restoration work on I just can’t cope. My herbalist man says he doesn’t know how I manage so much pressure.”

  I’d still quite like to know how mixing up a few sage leaves means he can charge her such exorbitant prices, but I don’t think this is quite the right time to mention it.

  “Is Dad’s back any better?”

  “It’s absolutely fine; he was just making a fuss. And my elbow is starting to improve, thank you for asking.”

  Mum always invents a mystery ailment when anyone in the family is ill. Dad’s had a bad back for years, and spending hours up a stepladder doing repairs to that stupid palazzo hasn’t helped. Why they can’t find a normal apartment is beyond me. But Mum loves it because the rent is so low and the Milanese banker who owns it lets them use the whole place when he’s not around, so she can show off to all her arty Venetian friends. Most of whom are British or American; the Italians are far less impressed by collapsing palazzos.

  “Maybe you should look for somewhere else to live, Mum, where he doesn’t have so much work to do?”

  “You father’s fine, and living in the right surroundings is important to me, you know that. I’m not like you, I can’t just live anywhere. I must feel inspired. Still, a little holiday should help.”

  “I’m sure it will. Where are you going?”

  “Honestly, Josephine, are you listening to me at all? I’ve just told you, Vincent will be back, so we’ll come over for a few days, after Easter, the flights will be cheaper then. Your father and I can have your room, and Vincent and Lulu can use your spare room, and you can have the baby in with you and the boys, they’ll love sharing. I’ve planned it all for you, so there’s no need to make a fuss. Won’t it be super? You and Vincent used to adore it when you were little, one at the top of the bed and one at the bottom, I think we’ve got a photograph somewhere. So sweet.”

  Actually we didn’t, we hated it, and spent most of the night kicking each other. And why do I have to get turfed out of my bedroom just because she’s decided to pay us a visit? Time fo
r a bit of quick thinking on my part or I’ll be stuck in a single bed for a week, trying to stop the boys bickering. It’s also vital I don’t tell her about the forthcoming television appearance or she’ll be over like a shot, demanding a starring role.

  “I’m not sure, Mum. I think you might be better off staying with Gran. She’s got a lovely spare room, and Pearl’s not sleeping that well at nights. She’ll wake you up. Or there’s a new bed-and-breakfast opening, on the seafront, it’s very stylish, if you’d prefer that?”

  “You make far too much fuss of those children. I never let you or Vincent get up at nights. You can’t let children rule your life; just leave her to cry for a few nights, she’ll soon settle.”

  “They don’t rule my life, Mum, but I don’t believe in leaving babies to cry. She’s just little, that’s all. The boys sleep really well, and she will too.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Anyway, you and Dad always used to get us drinks or read us stories if we woke up, don’t you remember?”

  Actually, Dad did most of that, but never mind.

  “Well, I need my sleep now. Perhaps you’re right. Talk to her, will you? And I don’t want a fuss, just a nice relaxing few days. There’s no need for any big meals or anything, this isn’t a royal visit.”

  She trills out a laugh. In other words, there had better be a three-course lunch every day, with Mum and Dad as guests of honor, or she’ll be kicking up a major fuss.

  “That sounds great, Mum.”

  “I must go. Your father’s making coffee and you know what a mess he makes. Derek, please put that down, I’ve told you before. Bye, darling. I’ll call you later to confirm the details.”

  Bloody hell. So now I’ve got Archie’s party, an outside broadcast going on in the shop, and then, just to top it all off, Mum will be landing on us. I wonder if that herbalist has got any little bottles to cope with that level of stress. You’d probably have to be on some sort of herbal drip. Dear God, I better make a list.

  “All gone.”

  Pearl has finished her toast.

  “More.”

  “Okay, love.”

  She’s added quite a few words to her vocabulary in the past few weeks, but more is still a favorite. She must be having a talking spurt, just like they have growing spurts. Up, down, cup, mine, and all gone are new additions, along with bella, which is definitely down to Cinzia, and geddy, for spaghetti. She also says juice and bear, and shoes, which is useful given her new passion for rearranging all the shoes in the hall cupboard. And she loves it when you get a word wrong, and she can correct you.

  “Here you go, sweetheart. I’ll put it on your plate, shall I? Lovely plate.”

  I hand her more triangles of toast and honey in her yellow dish.

  She grins. “Dish.”

  “Oh yes, dish, sorry.”

  She claps her hands.

  It must be very nice being able to correct your mother occasionally. If only I could manage it.

  “Mum, tell him he can’t come to my party unless I say he can.”

  “Of course he can come, Archie, he’s your brother. Brothers and sisters always come to parties. If they don’t, there’s no party. And why have you got your sweatshirt on inside out? Come here, love, and let me fix it.”

  “It was like this on my chair.”

  “Yes, well, you’re both meant to put your uniforms out properly on school nights, so they’re ready for the morning. It’s on your list.”

  We’ve got new sticker charts up on the kitchen notice board in an attempt to release me from running around like some demented lost property monitor, endlessly searching for socks. There are stickers for having all clothes ready, having your book bag by the front door, making your bed, or at least picking your duvet up off the floor, and for brushing your teeth before school without spitting on your brother’s arm. So far Jack has twelve star stickers, and Archie has three. But we’re working on it.

  “Mine is the right way out, Mum.” Jack’s smirking now.

  “Good. You’ve got the rest of your things right though, Archie, so here, let’s put a sticker on your chart. And one for putting your book bag on the hall table as well. Well done, love, just let me fix your sweatshirt.”

  “And me, Mum, I get a sticker. I’ve got all my uniform on.”

  “Okay Jack.”

  “I’ve got the most stickers.”

  “Where’s your book bag?”

  He gives me a blank look.

  “Go and find it, love. You can’t have a sticker if it’s not on the table. But there are lots more to get.”

  Archie’s doing a celebratory dance around the kitchen. Two stickers, and only one for Jack. It’s all too perfect.

  “Mum, when I have my ice cream party in the café, when Mr. Magic does the tricks, I’ll be the one that gets to hold the rabbit, won’t I, because I’ll be the birthday boy.”

  “Yes, but it’s not Mr. Magic, remember; he’s another magician.”

  “What’s he called?”

  “Alan.”

  “That’s not a very good magic name, Mum.”

  “He’s good at magic though, and he has indoor fireworks.”

  “Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about that. It’s going to be great, isn’t it?”

  “Wonderful. Now sit down and have some breakfast. Shreddies or Weetabix?”

  “Toast. Like Pearly, only I want jam, not honey.”

  “Please.”

  “Yes, and cut up, in triangles, like Pearly’s got.”

  I give him what I hope is a Firm Look.

  “Please.”

  I must find out if the bloody magician has a stage name, because Alan does seem a tad low-key. Tina found him for me; apparently he’s a friend of Graham’s who works at the fire station in Margate, which will be handy if the indoor fireworks get a bit lively. Graham says he does children’s parties all the time, and he’s brilliant; my budget couldn’t run to Mr. Magic, who’s booked up months ahead anyway, so I’m really hoping Alan and his rabbit will be a hit. Mark is making us a special cake, in the shape of a top hat, with a rabbit, and sparklers. Actually, that’s something else for my list, paper plates; I want to keep the clearing up to a minimum.

  Jack wants toast with just butter, and I distract Pearl with slices of apple while the boys have a light bicker about whether Jack will or will not be allowed to touch Archie’s birthday rabbit, if he gets one.

  “Stop it, Archie, you’re being horrible. And Jack, stop whining. Just ignore him and he’ll get bored. We share things in this family, so everyone will be able to stroke the rabbit, if Archie gets one. Which if he carries on being nasty, he won’t. Now come on, or we’ll be late. Go and brush your teeth.”

  They both earn stickers for noncombatant teeth brushing, and peace is restored.

  “Get your shoes on, Jack, or we’ll miss the bus.”

  “Are you walking with us this morning, Mum?”

  “No.”

  “Good, because I don’t like it when you wear that jacket, it’s embarrassing.”

  I think it’s going to take Jack a while to get over Archie getting two stickers when he only got one.

  “He’s right, Mum, it is.”

  “Thanks, Archie. I could wear much more embarrassing things than that.”

  Like Mum used to, artistic caftans and clogs to parents’ evenings at school, when the other mothers worse sensible skirts and blouses. I rather admire her for that now, although I could admire her so much more if she stayed in bloody Venice.

  “Like what?”

  “My swimsuit?”

  They both look appalled.

  “Mum, you can’t wear that, people could see you.”

  “I know, Jack. But I might, if people don’t hurry up and get their shoes on.”

  They put their school shoes on in almost record time, while Pearl lines the rest of our summer shoes in a neat row all the way down the hall.

  Excellent.

  I’m in the shop by ten past nine;
this walking bus lark is definitely saving me loads of time in the mornings when I’m not actually on the stupid thing. Last week it rained so torrentially, just after we’d set off, we thought we might need to rope ourselves together so nobody got washed down the hill. Luckily lots of the kids have got plastic trousers to wear over their uniforms, although Archie hates his, but even he had to admit they were good when he saw how wet my jeans were. Mrs. Lenning has taken over from Connie now; she’s far too pregnant to be schlepping up and down the High Street, even though she thinks she’s fine. But Mark and I insisted, so Jason’s mum is blowing the whistle, and loving it. Jason’s in the same class as Archie, so they’re commiserating about their mothers wearing fluorescent tabards in front of the whole school.

  “Do you want a drink, pet?”

  “Thanks, Gran.”

  Reg has taken Pearl to feed the ducks in the park, before they go to their baby music group. I’m thinking this might be a good moment to break the news about Mum to Gran; Elsie’s upstairs sorting out the orders.

  “Hang on a minute, Gran, before you make the tea. I’ve got some good news and some not so good. Which do you want first?”

  “The not so good, get it out of the way.”

  “Okay. Mum’s coming over after Easter, and she’s staying with you.”

  “Is she? That’ll be nice, if she manages to behave herself, that is.”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  We both smile.

  “We can ignore her, when she gets narky, and it’ll be fine. Vin and Lulu will be around too, so that’ll help, and she was okay at your wedding, wasn’t she? We thought she’d be a nightmare at that.”

  “Yes, pet, she was. Well, apart from that horrible orange outfit she was wearing. All my photos are lovely, you know, everyone in nice outfits in pretty pastels or smart navy like Betty, except for her. And she made such a fuss about arranging the flowers I thought we’d never hear the end of it.”

  I tried to keep out of the flowers drama, but I know Gran got very close to throwing one of Mrs. Davis’s buckets at her. Mum wanted modern arrangements, a couple of twigs and one giant flower. And Gran wanted freesias.