Peggy has a real talent for asking the wrong questions at the wrong time. I would laugh if Anna wasn’t so tense. Maybe Peggy is after some attention.
‘If I didn’t cook, ye would all starve.’
There is gravel in Anna’s voice.
‘Peg, why don’t you go out and pick a few flowers for the table?’
I shoo her out the door, and breathing deeply, I try to remain detached from the stress of preparing for our guests. I want to watch all of this like a film, objectively, not like my real life, unfolding before me. I think that will make it all easier to digest.
Anna
IT ISN’T THAT I THINKcooking makes me indispensable, it’s just good to remind them that there are reasons to keep me around. If they ever did think about leaving me somewhere, bumping me off, one of them would need to learn how to cook first. It’s like a little alarm I’ve set for myself.
Tom lands turf onto the fire. I am so hot already. I haven’t changed my clothes yet, the Nevans will be here any minute, and my stomach is cramping.
This isn’t fair; it was Tom who wanted a dinner party, but it’s me who has to create one. With no notice, I’ve had to cook a fish and clean the half empty cottage into his vision of perfection. Like he’s a spoiled child. Like I’m the mother that spoils him.
Peggy bursts through the door, weeds and wildflowers in one hand, the Nevans on her heels. Jesus christ, they’re here already. All smiles, letting the fresh air flood in, and I see them. The singing woman, her dark hair, cake tin in her hands. Bringing all this cold, bright air into my home. This is Betty Nevan, and her husband shutting the door after her. And here I am, fish blood in the creases of my fingers, with the threat of a leak from my underwear, damp with sweat.
‘Hello all!’
She comes into my cottage like it’s her own. Taking off her coat,taking in the layout and all of our things, making long, fluid strides around the room. Her hair catching the yellow of the big light, as she admires what little there is to be admired. Bill starts talking to Tom, she starts talking to me. It’s a lot to listen to at once.
‘Ye are so good to have us!’
‘’Tis years since I was up this hill.’
‘You’ve the place lovely, Anna.’
‘Who’s for a drink?’
For just a moment, I wonder whose home we are in. They move around with such familiarity it’s like they once lived here with us. They take their places at the table and talk among themselves. I can’t keep up with them and the dinner at once. Peggy nods along with everything, as though she understands. Now and again, she interjects with something about her day, without the manners to know to be quiet when adults are talking. Her shrill little voice, piercing the conversation with news of a baby doll she made out of sticks, or a dress that she saw a girl wearing in town. At her age, she can’t separate her interests from everybody else’s. But astonishingly, Betty is interested.
‘Is that right? A doll from sticks? And an orange dress! Would you wear an orange dress?’
This woman is all but lifting Peggy into her lap.
‘Do you know Ciara Moore?’
Peggy asks her, and Betty brightens further.
‘I know Ciara Moore well. She’s a great friend of mine.’
‘Because I was at her house and I met her puppies, and I was hoping to go again.’
‘Now that’s a lovely idea! I’ll sort that out for you, pet.’
Betty puts a hand on Peggy’s shoulder, both beaming. For a moment, I am jealous of the attention they are giving each other. Then I realise I have to serve the dinner. And I’m not sure how to announceit. Usually, I would just put the food on the table, but this evening, I feel I need to say something.
‘It’s my first time attempting fish, so.’
I want to tell them to manage their expectations, or ask them to go easy on me. But I don’t know how to finish the sentence; it trails off into a silence for them to absorb.
‘I’m sure it’s beautiful.’
Bill says, but I see his eyes go straight to the potatoes. I don’t even know what to serve fish with. Tom and I fought between cabbage and potatoes for nearly half an hour earlier. Betty smiles at me across the table. With a shaking breath, I smile back at her, and I try to settle. But there is no settling. The Nevans are all questions.
‘What do ye make of the town so far?’
