Vic began to well up. ‘Oh, Mum, it’s so good to haveyouback.’
Kath kissed her daughter on the forehead.
Albie poked his head around the curtain. ‘You ready, Mum? We’d better get going. Is that OK, sis?’
‘Get in here, you.’ Kath reached for the magazine that Joti had left on Vic’s side cupboard, rolled it up and jumped up to hit Albie on the bottom with it. ‘You little sod, you could have just told me about your antics, you know.’
Albie grinned the grin that had allowed him to get away with everything and anything whilst he was growing up and beyond. ‘And what fun would there have been in that, Mother?’
THIRTY-ONE
LONDON
The Three Musketeers
August 2006
‘Oh my God, just look at his ickle fingers.’ Mandy’s newborn gripped his tiny little digits around Orla’s. ‘What age is he now?’
‘Six weeks tomorrow.’
‘Aw. And all that hair. He’s the spit of his father,’ Vic added.
‘Poor little mite.’ Mandy laughed. ‘Talking of fathers, have you seen Jake since you found out?’
‘I’m actually going for dinner with him on the boat tonight. Mum thought it was important we speak face to face, without her there.’ Vic took a sip of the tea Mandy had just placed in front of her.
‘Look at Kath, taking charge,’ Mandy said, impressed.
‘I know. Great, isn’t it?’ Vic went over to look in the pram placed at the end of the long kitchen table. ‘So Julian, you say? Has he got a middle name?’
‘Yes, Julian Winkler Taylor.’
Orla and Victoria were open-mouthed. ‘Mandy Taylor, what haven’t you told us?’ Vic cried.
Mandy laughed. ‘I started at that school twelve years ago, and met Steve two years after that. Don’t think you were the first to feel the headmaster’s cane, Orla O’Malley.’
‘You dark old horse,’ Vic laughed.
‘Less of the “old”, thanks,’ Mandy chipped in.
‘Ew! Not sure I like the idea of sloppy seconds.’ Orla screwed her face up.
‘Just look at your faces. Of course I didn’t. You know me – I was born with a vanilla pod in my mouth,’ Mandy added, carrying on washing up their lunch plates and glasses. Vic and Orla couldn’t stop laughing.
‘Saying that, I really did fancy Mr Winkler. I may have to look him up.’ Orla reached for a biscuit from the tin that was in the middle of the kitchen table. ‘I’ve just set up one of those new Twitter accounts. Maybe he’s on there.’
‘Well, you could do a lot worse, and at least he’s divorced now, I believe,’ Mandy replied sincerely. ‘And for the record, it’s Alexander. Julian Alexander Taylor.’
‘Ooh, I do like that,’ Vic said.
‘Very posh,’ Orla echoed.
‘I know what I meant to ask.’ Mandy wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Was Danny OK about you coming back to stay at your mum’s?’
‘Totally fine. I intended to be in Brighton just for the summer, anyway. I know it’s only mid-August but I had to meet this little one and I felt ready to come home. He’s happy to keep selling my prints, and I insisted he now takes twenty per cent commision on each one. I must start working on some new stuff, but my head hasn’t been in it since I’ve been back.’
‘He’s such a lovely bloke,’ Mandy added. ‘And you’ll get there with your art, when you’re ready.’
