‘No, I heard them talking on the phone.’
‘You shouldn’t listen in on people’s conversations,’ Beatrice said absently, relieved that her children hadn’t been subjected to yet another of Eric’s girlfriends.
She wouldn’t have any objection if there was a constant one, or even if he’d had two since they’d split up, but he seemed to have a different one every week. Where he found them was a mystery. In all that time, Beatrice had only managed one date. It hadn’t been a great success. Maybe single eligible women were in greater abundance than single eligible men?
‘She won’t last,’ Beatrice told her daughter confidently. ‘They never do.’
Taya pouted. ‘I told himyouhad a boyfriend.’
‘You didwhat?Why?’
‘Yousaidhe was your boyfriend.’
‘Who?’
‘That man who came to the school. The one who wrote those books.’
Beatrice couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘His name is Mark Stafford, but he’s not my boyfriend. Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘I heard you talking to Aunty Lisa.’
‘What did I just tell you about listening to other people’s conversations? The problem is, you get the wrong end of the stick, or only half a story. Mark used to be my boyfriend, years ago. Long before I met your dad.’
‘Why did you go out with him today? Do you want him to be your boyfriend again?’
‘It was a work thing.’ Seeing Taya’s confused expression, Beatrice explained, ‘He’s writing a new book and wanted to have a chat.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he wants to ask whether he could talk to you and Sadie about it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he doesn’t have any children of his own to ask. And before you ask why, I don’t know.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I said we’d go out to tea with him on Friday.’
Sadie had been following the conversation closely. ‘Me, too?’
‘Yes, sweetie, you too.’
‘Yay! Can I have a Big Mac?’
‘We won’t be going to McDonald’s,’ Beatrice told her. ‘We’re going to The Black Horse.’
Sadie’s eyes were round, Taya’s not so much. At nine, Taya was more worldly-wise than her sister.
‘I like him,’ Sadie announced. ‘He draws good.’
‘Draws well,’ Beatrice corrected.
‘That’s what I said.’
Beatrice’s gaze strayed to the fridge. The drawing that Mark had done of Sadie dressed as a toadstool had pride of place, alongside the artwork that Taya produced on a weekly basis. As well as being a reader, Taya was a budding artist.
It was time to change the subject. ‘If you’ve finished your tea, scrape off your plates and clear the table, please.’
‘Aww, do we—?’
‘Yes. Please can we not do this every mealtime?’
