A streak of defiance has me calling through to the kitchen. “Mrs Stewart, do you need any help?”
There’s an odd silence, and then she calls back in a voice I have to strain to hear, “No, but thank you.”
Mr Stewart gives me a rather incredulous look, as if he can’t tell if I was making a joke or just being bloody-minded in notsimply obeying him. He strikes me as the sort who believes in the concept of ‘man’s work’ and ‘women’s work’, and in his position as the ‘man of the house’, commanding unquestioning obedience from all.
And for him to be lucky enough to have a daughter like Sadie, but regard it as a misfortune because she dares to be her own person… I try hard not to give away my feelings and keep my expression as bland as I can, but it’s not easy.
“No Eleanor this time?” Sadie asks Tim.
“No, she’s having a sleepover with Tegan.”
Mr Stewart grunts. “‘Tegan’. What kind of a name is that?” He lets out a derisory laugh. “Names have become very odd these days. What happened to all the Marys and Susans? Good, solidEnglishnames, for goodness sake, not these blasted American monstrosities that seem to be taking over.” Ah. A direct dig; he knows I’m half American. He narrows his eyes at Tim, who’s maintaining a placid expression. “Who’s daughter is this ‘Tegan’? Not that hairdresser woman?”
“Yes, actually.” Tim seems resigned to his father’s determination to voice his opinions.
Mr Stewart huffs. “I do wish Eleanor had fewer friends with single mothers. The moral standards in this country have taken such a nosedive since my day.”
I know without looking at her that Sadie is bristling. Tim just looks at him expressionlessly, and Jacob shifts uncomfortably, like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
“And what’s wrong with single mothers?” Sadie asks, her eyes narrowing at her father dangerously. Something inside me is soothed. My valkyrie might be uncomfortable around him, but she’s not cowed. She’ll yell at him like she’d yell at anyone else saying this bigoted bullcrap.
But, disappointingly, Mr Stewart turns to Jacob as though Sadie hasn’t even spoken. “Be careful none of these unmarriedmothers try to get their claws into you, my boy,” he says with a sort of shitty joviality that makes me want to punch him in the face. “Especially the ones with children by several different men. Prosperous man like you… They’d be on to a good thing, and they’d know it!”
Jacob blushes and shakes his head uneasily, but before he can reply, Mr Stewart starts talking again.
“Have you gained that promotion yet?” he demands.
“Ah, not as such, but the interview for it went well, and - ”
“Well, then, it’s a done deal.” Mr S hath spoken, so must it be. What atwat. “Bravo.”
Mrs Stewart comes in with a large dish of plain brown rice, followed swiftly by steamed vegetables, a watery looking cauliflower cheese, and grilled chicken, which thankfully seems to have been seasoned with herbs to save the meal from truly catastrophic blandness. I smile at her warmly. “Thank you very much. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
She smiles, flustered, before glancing at her husband. Almost like she wants permission to answer, or for him to answerforher.
“We only serve healthy meals in my house,” he tells me. “Fruit salad for dessert.”
“Sounds terrific.” Again, he and I have a staring contest, and I’m not sure what outrageous thing he imagines I’m planning to do to sully ‘his’ pristine home. Spill my drink on the white rug? Ride a dirty motorbike through his living room and rub my naked body on his sofa?
Sadie is practically sparking with fury at his contempt for single mothers, and then being ignored when she tried to call him on it, but she sits quietly at the table. I can almost hear her bomb ticking, but Captain Hook here is oblivious, as though he doesn’t even know her. Mr Stewart gets the first helping of everything, passing everything down in such a way that Ireceive each dish last. Another put-down; I’m an imposition to be tolerated, not a guest, and he wants me to know it by giving me the dregs of everything. Sadie swaps things around so that I go before her sometimes, sending filthy looks to her dad, but he isn’t paying her any attention.
Following my cue from Tim, Jacob, and Mrs Stewart, I eat without talking, and for long moments the only sound is the clink of fork against china. The food is plain as all hell, but I get the impression Sadie’s mother simply does everything the way her husband likes it, and I suppose he thinks seasoning fires up the blood too much. Maybe too much pepper can cause rebelliousness, and cayenne pepper is a gateway to back-chatting. Sadie doesn’t eat much, pushing her food around her plate and clenching her teeth. If it wasn’t for how tight with anger her face is, I’d wonder if she was having a bout of morning sickness. Tim, sat opposite her, seemingly nudges her leg under the table from the way she looks up at him, and he shakes his head subtly.
I kind of agree with him. I can’t imagine telling these people in this situation that we’re adding a new family member to their ranks. Honestly? I wouldn’t allow any child of mine to sit through this tense, funereal atmosphere under any circumstances.
Maybe we shouldn’t tell them just yet.
“How’s Peter?” Mr Stewart asks, looking down at his plate as if he did nothing more remarkable than pass comment on the weather.
“I couldn’t give a fuck,” Sadie replies evenly. Her mother gasps, Tim closes his eyes, and Jacob flinches, but still tries to continue eating his rice as though nothing happened.
Mr Stewart drops his fork loudly on his plate. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I couldn’t give the tiniest fuck, Dad,” Sadie repeats slightly louder, like he’s gone deaf.
He gives her a look of utter contempt. “Small wonder he left you if that’s the kind of filthy gutter talk you used with him. Poor man had probably had enough of your unladylike potty mouth.” He nods at her plate. “Still, eating like a bird, at least you’re likely to lose some weight. Do more to clean up your act, young lady, and you might get him back.Might.”
I’m so shocked I can’t speak. Factually speaking, Sadie is one of the most willowy, slender women I know, without a spare pound to lose. But for him to pass any comment on her weight in such a contemptuous way is so nasty, so cruel, when he should love her at any size because any size is innately loveable andshe’s his daughter, I can hardly believe my own ears.
