‘You know such a lot,’ Miles announces, pulling up his chair to be closer to him. ‘You’ve got, like, anencyclopaedicbrain.’
‘I don’t really.’ Charlie reddens and shrugs.
‘Oh, youdoooo,’ Miles crows, definitely piss-taking now. ‘So, what else d’you do when you’re not mapping the stars?’
‘Um, I like reading and stuff,’ he murmurs, fiddling with an unused fork on the table.
‘Would you like a coffee, Miles?’ I chip in.
‘No thanks, I’m fine with wine.’
‘Esther? Charlie?’
‘No thanks,’ they say in unison, unaware that I’m trying – ineffectually – to break up their little clique. In fact, short of producing a board game and demanding that everyone plays, I’m at a loss as to what to do.
‘D’you ever miss London?’ Esther is asking Charlie now. We’ve already mentioned that we lived there until he was eight.
‘No,’ he replies. ‘Not really.’
‘Not much to do out here, though, is there?’ Miles remarks. ‘D’you just sit in your room with your books? Is thatit?’
I shoot a look over at James, urging him – perhaps unreasonably – to step in and do something, to stop his daughter’s idiot boyfriend from grilling my son. But he’sstill locked in conversation with Kim and Lorenzo. They all liked each other instantly, right from when they first met.
‘A lot of the time, I s’pose,’ Charlie says quietly.
‘No wonder he’s a genius!’ Miles exclaims.
‘He probably went to a much better school than mine,’ Esther offers.
‘Don’t put yourself down, babe.’ Miles pats her leg.
‘I’m not, I’m just saying—’
‘It’s not the be-all and end-all, is it?’ he adds. ‘Books, science, passing exams …’
‘No, it’s not,’ Charlie mutters, looking distinctly unsettled now. Or maybe that’s just me, projecting my discomfort onto him?
His dad always said I was too protective, due to his shyness. ‘You can’t keep him swaddled forever,’ Frank announced, which stung because I didn’t do that. Drama club, swimming, judo and music lessons; I took him to everything going in the hope that, once I’d left the building, he’d make friends.
‘Spending all day with your head in a book isn’t for everyone,’ Miles reiterates now, to no one in particular.
‘He didn’t say it was,’ I remark, aware of Charlie’s fierce glare, just for standing up for him. ‘He just said—’
‘Mum!’ he barks, eyes wide.
‘Erm, anyone like more cake?’ I call out, feeling helpless.
No one wants cake and Charlie certainly doesn’t want me wading in, protecting him like he’s a little kid. Even so, I cut the remains of the sponge into thin slices and do the rounds with it again like a demented waitress. ‘I think it’s best to let people find their own way in life,’ Miles slurs sanctimoniously.
‘Me too,’ Esther agrees with a nod.
‘Like, Esther went to a school where everyone could please themselves and only learnt stuff when they wanted to …’ Miles’s lips are wine-stained, his voice slurred. ‘Is your school like that?’ he asks my son.
‘Can we leave this please, Miles?’ I chirp, my heart thumping.
‘Um, it’s just a regular school,’ Charlie replies.
‘What I mean,’ Miles continues, in full flow now, ‘is that not everyone wants to spend their young life swotting when they should be out having fun—’
