‘I think the Yorkshire miners did as well,’ Robyn murmured. ‘Absolutely delicious starter, Jess. You are a genius.’
‘Absolutely,’ Mum concurred, desperately trying to shut Pat Butterworth up before she took over the whole conversation once more. ‘A toast to Jess, I think,’ she went on, standing and, by doing so, shutting my mother-in-law out. ‘To the chef! The White House, darling, is going to be fabulous with you in the kitchen…’
‘Hear, hear,’ Dean bellowed.
‘Will you stop saying “hear, hear”in that ridiculous voice you always put on when you’re at the golf club?’ I tutted. ‘I don’t know why you’ve suddenly started coming out with that little turn of phrase…’
‘Now, as I was saying…’ Pat was still going at full throttle.
‘Where’s Fabian?’ I mouthed across at Robyn.
‘I really don’t know.’ Robyn stood once more, taking her phone and heading for the garden, Arthur, obviously fed up of the sound of Pat Butterworth’s voice monopolising the table, followed her out while Jayden, seeing his chance, slipped into Robyn’s now-vacant seat next to Mum.
‘Lisa.’ Jayden began a crooning whisper, totally ignoring Kamran on Mum’s other side. I started to collect the dirty plates, nudging Jayden sharply in the back as I did so. There was no way I was going to allow my father to come between Mum and Kamran.
‘Lisa, my darling,’ Jayden was saying. ‘What are youdoing? What are you doing to me? Why? You know I have to be away touring most of the year. Now that you’re so much better – and girl, you are looking hot – you could come with me. I’ve gigs back in Barbados and Jamaica next month…’
Hell, what was this father of mine up to now? As if I didn’t know. I hovered once more, about to give him another sharp dig with my elbow, but Mum was already in there before me. She turned to Jayden, placing a hand on his arm and beckoning him down to her so that she could whisper in his ear. But deliberately loud enough that both Kamran and I could hear what she was saying.
‘Number one, I’m nota girl. And certainly notyourgirl. And two, you want to know why I’m looking hot?’ Mum stroked his arm. ‘It’s because I’m in love, Jayden. I’m in love with this beautiful, kind and generous man on my left. Generous with his love and his time. And in exactly’ – Mum counted on her fingers – ‘four and a half months, I’ll walk down the aisle with him; quite a novelty for me to actually walk down an aisle.’
If I hadn’t so often witnessed Mum’s despair at Jayden’s migratory, polyamorous lifestyle over the years, I would have actually felt terribly sorry for him. Even so, part of me remembered Jayden was my dad, and it wasn’t a good thing to see one’s dad humiliated this way.
Jayden, in typical Jayden style, stood and kissed Mum’s cheek before leaning over to shake Kamran’s hand. The latter was obviously beginning to feel exceptionally uncomfortable at Mum’s ex’s presence. ‘You win, Kamran.’ Jayden grinned his winsome smile that, over the years, had, and still would have, women falling at his feet. ‘Look after her, mind. And I’d like an invite to the wedding.’
‘In your dreams, Dad,’ I snorted before realising, perhaps for the first time since I’d been at primary school, I’d actually referred to Jayden asDad.
* * *
‘Please help yourselves to veg,’ I instructed as Mum and Robyn both appeared at the table with a seemingly endless procession of dishes. The lamb was cooked to perfection, the stuffing lemony and fragrant with just a hint of garlic and chilli, and the tiny Hasselback potatoes had the crisp edges of French fries, but with centres as creamy and buttery as mashed potato.
‘What’s this?’ Pat Butterworth was back to poking about with her fork.
‘Swiss chard with an anchovy crumb,’ I said, smiling as pleasantly as I could. ‘Will you try some, Pat?’
‘Swiss? Oh, more foreign stuff.’ Pat sniffed, before glancing behind her hopefully as Robyn placed a different dish of greens onto the table. ‘Right, and what might this one be then?’
‘Ottolenghi!’ Kamran said, looking across at me.
‘I beg your pardon?Ottolenghi?’ Pat stared as though Kamran was swearing at her.
‘Ottolenghi, Pat, is a fabulous chef and recipe writer. Best thing to come out of Jerusalem since Jesus,’ Kamran said with enthusiasm.
‘I don’t think there’s any need for profanity,’ Pat said, primly. ‘And especially on Easter Sunday when Jesus was going nowhere, Jerusalem or otherwise. Mind you, I suppose your people and your religion can afford to be profane where Jesus is concerned?—’
‘There’s very little room on here, Jess,’ Robyn called, cutting Pat off mid-sentence. ‘Goodness, how many different vegetables have you done? You could do with one of those hostess trolly things people used to have in the seventies.’
‘My mum had one of those.’ Kamran laughed. ‘She thought she’d arrived once Dad bought her one for Christmas. She kept it clean and polished and ready to go, but I don’t remember her ever actually using it. Same as when my dad bought the white faux-leather three-piece suite off someone on Dewsbury market. He kept the plastic wrapping on it for years and wouldn’t allow any of us to sit on it…’ He laughed again. ‘So, whatisthis one?’ Kamran was gazing intently at the dish, sniffing the delicious steam that was rising from it. ‘If not Ottolenghi?’
‘Broccoli rabe in lemon cream,’ I said nonchalantly.
‘Really?’ Pat brought a beringed hand to her chest as if the mere naming of the dish was enough to bring on a seizure. ‘I’ll pass, I think. Wait for the peas and carrots.’
‘Sorry, no peas today, Pat, but I can always do you some frozen ones in the microwave?’ I kept my tone pleasant, but I knew the intention was dripping in sarcasm.
‘Oh, would you, Jess?’
‘No, actually, I wouldn’t,’ I said crossly. Why the hell was I being so polite to the old harridan when I no longer needed to? Again, I felt that wonderful feeling of relief, of freedom that I really had no need to have any relationship with the woman. Ever again.
