‘You can have him when he cries.’
‘We all know Gus never cries,’ Sam said, letting the baby clutch her finger.
‘Like he ever gets a chance to,’ Jack replied. He nodded at Jemma. ‘Hi. Grab a seat among the chaos.’
The extra chairs around the table were piled with calico nappy bags and a box with the fluffy lime tops of celery poking out among the rich green of spinach and vibrant beet stems. Jemma moved to lift a wicker picnic basket from the remaining seat, but startled back at a ferocious growl.
‘Dash!’ Keeley reprimanded, barely glancing over as she cuddled a puppy so it could lick her chin.
‘Just put him on the floor,’ Lucie said.
‘Him?’ Jemma wasn’t sure whether Lucie was addressing her or her daughter.
‘Open the basket and see.’ Paul chortled. ‘Pandora.’
‘Paul!’ Evie cautioned. ‘Behave. Just put the basket on the floor, Jemma. Dash can sort himself.’
Jemma lifted the basket cautiously, slightly unnerved as the weight shifted from one side to the other. As she set it on the floor, a chocolate snout lifted the unlatched lid. A furry, elongated face followed, two golden eyes fringed by long, floppy ears, and two paws appeared on the edge of the basket.
‘Dachshund? Should I help him get out?’
The dog looked up at Jemma like he felt that would, indeed, be a good idea. Everyone else ignored her, involved in what seemed to be more different conversations than there were people. She didn’t mind, though; it felt like home, where everyone demanded their right to be heard, even if it meant they were talking to themselves.
‘It is freezing out there,’ Dad remarked, chafing his hands together. He lifted the box of vegetables, placing it on the crowded kitchen counter as though he was familiar with the clutter and noise and life in the farmhouse.
‘Red nose, red toes, ’tis the season to be sneezin’,’ Evie said, finally handing the dark-haired baby over to Sam.
‘Take this seat, Sam,’ Dad offered. ‘Jemma, you okay there?’
‘Sure.’ The lively disorder gave the place a cosy, welcoming feel, and she slid onto the chair, leaning her elbows on the table.
‘You know the advantage of reaching my age?’ Paul asked, although it wasn’t obvious who he was addressing. He rolled to his knees, slowly getting up by leaning one shoulder against the wall for support. Jemma edged forward as though she’d help him, but no one else seemed bothered.
‘What’s that, Paul?’ Dad asked.
Paul grinned mischievously, as though he’d been waiting for the in. ‘When it’s cold out you can just pee your pants a little to stay warm and everyone thinks it’s an accident.’
‘Pops!’ Keeley shrieked.
‘What? Don’t worry, Keels, you’re young enough that you can get away with it, too.’
The girl, who Jemma figured was about six or seven, collapsed onto the hessian dog bed in a fit of snorting giggles, and the puppies tumbled over her, fighting and yipping.
‘Fair enough.’ Dad didn’t seem disconcerted and no one else even broke their conversation to pay Paul any mind.
The dachshund seemed to have adopted Jemma after she’d rescued him from the picnic basket, winding his ridiculously long body in between her ankles while looking up at her with soulful eyes. She reached down to caress his long, silky ears. ‘You’re a cute little guy, aren’t you?’
‘Why thank you,’ Paul said, pushing one of the nappy bags onto the floor and flopping noisily onto the seat. ‘Though not so much of the little, if you don’t mind.’
‘Paul!’
‘Pops!’
Lucie burst into a peal of laughter and a grin tweaked Jemma’s lips as Evie and Sam chorused the protest.
‘I can’t believe he still shocks you.’ Lucie said.
‘Oh, it’s not shock,’ Evie said. ‘It’s despair. What am I going to do with this man?’
