‘Yes, darling, snow!’ Frida announces, as if she has made it happen. ‘Justlike at Grandma’s.’ And Shelley, accustomed to welcoming anyone who comes into the care home, latches onto this as a conversation topic. Frida sips her wine, happily answering her questions about her childhood in a Swiss village, and how she came to meet Roger.
‘I was travelling,’ she explains, ‘all over Europe, all by myself. And I met him in a hostel in Paris. We were so young, weren’t we, Roger? Just nineteen, the pair of us. Twenty-one years ago with the world at my feet!’ She shakes her head in wonderment. ‘I wasn’t sure I even wanted a child’ – charming, Shelley surmises, with your son sitting in front of you – ‘but eventually we thought, why not? We weren’t getting any younger. And the very minute we’d decided, that was that!’
‘How lovely,’ Shelley enthuses, but Theo cuts in.
‘Mummy, I’m hungry.’ What, after eighty-seven cookies?
Frida frowns, and now Pearl strolls into the lounge, looking a little panic stricken. ‘We’ll be eating at around seven,’ Shelley says quickly, ‘but that’s maybe a bit late for Theo?’ She catches her friends’ startled looks.Whatwill they be eating at seven? ‘Would you like some pasta now, Theo?’ she asks.
‘Oh, he hates pasta.’ Frida grimaces. ‘Unusual, I know!’
You could say that, Shelley reflects. Up until the age of seven both Martha and Fin would barely tolerate anything other than spaghetti, to the point that she imagined their developing bones to be 99 per cent durum wheat.
‘Can I have a sandwich?’ Theo asks his mother.
‘I’m sure you can, darling.’
‘Of course.’ Shelley springs up. ‘What would you like in it?’
‘Well, what do you have?’ Frida asks pointedly.
Oh, just the usual. Chickpeas, frozen sweetcorn, leeks?‘I’m sure we have cheese,’ Pearl announces. ‘D’you like cheese, Theo?’ He nods mutely, and off she goes with the kid sloping along in pursuit.
There is bread, thank goodness, and a wedge of locally produced Cheddar. As she makes Theo’s sandwich he twirls around the kitchen, careering into cupboards, finally settling on swinging haphazardly on the beaded curtain. She smiles benignly, willing him not to snap it. Pearl remembers now that Michael and Rona had brought the curtain back from their travels in India all those years ago. ‘Steady there!’ she says. Theo laughs as he grabs an armful of strung beads, clutching them to his chest and leaning fully back with all of his body weight.
‘I like this!’ he announces.
‘Yes, Michael does too. That’s his curtain, Theo…’
‘Who’s Michael?’
‘The nice man who owns this house.Pleasebe careful…’ Pearl always struggles with the concept of telling off someone’s else’s kid.
‘Wheeee!’ Every nerve in Pearl’s body seems to twang as Theo is now swinging, feet off the ground, from the curtain.I’m glad you’re happy and no longer crying with sick in your hair. But why aren’t your parents looking after you?
‘Here you go, love.’ She hands him a doorstopper sandwich on a plate with firm instructions to take it back into the lounge.Away from the curtain, please!
Having come through to join her in the kitchen, Shelley and Lena exchange looks of panic. ‘My God,’ Lena murmurs. ‘What a family. How long are they here for again?’
‘Till Monday,’ Pearl reminds her. ‘So, look, we’re going to have to serve up a fabulous meal in two and a half hours’ time.’ Beyond stressing now, she rubs wearily at her eyes. ‘I’ve tried all the pubs. No one can do it. Shame really, because there are some amazing-sounding places. But they’ve all been fully booked for weeks. And when I asked if they could just knock out some takeaways?—’
‘No joy,’ Shelley cuts in, and Pearl shakes her head.
‘We’d better get cooking then,’ Lena starts, but Shelley winds her arms around her friends’ shoulders and pulls them to her.
‘Hang on a sec,’ she says. ‘You haven’t been drinking, have you, Pearl?’
‘Not yet,’ she says with a dry laugh.
‘You don’t mind driving, then?’
‘No, of course not. But where to?’
Shelley looks at her friends as Stan trots in to join them, clearly having tired of Theo’s attentions. ‘Okay,’ she starts. ‘What we’re going to do is this. We’re going to tell our guests that there’s been atechnical hitch…’
‘What kind of hitch?’ Pearl’s green eyes widen.
‘We can’t cook dinner tonight. The Aga’s fucked?—’
