‘What d’you do, Oliver?’ I’d asked.
‘I work in nature conservation,’ he replied. Again, no further info supplied.
‘He’s doing amazing things with beavers,’ Sukiannounced with a little laugh. And in any other situation I’d have had a giggle about this too.
‘What kind of things?’ I asked.
‘We’re reintroducing them to the area,’ he replied, sending the clear signal that he didn’t want to go into it all now.
I was about to ask more but the tiny spark in me fizzled out like a damp firework, and I sank a little in my seat. A whole weekend with this bunch. How was I going to survive it? Then Suki topped up our glasses again and put on some music, clearly trying to rev up the atmosphere to above that of a morgue. And she started to tell Oliver and Dinah about mylovelyson, and how delighted she is to see Lyla so happy. On and on she went, gamely keeping things going and topping up glasses.
Now, as I help Suki to clear the table and wash up, Dinah settles by the fire as if tonight has been exhausting for her. ‘So many carbs,’ she announces, tight-faced in a snug grey sweater and slim black trousers, her tiny feet poked into olive-green leather slippers. Her short dark hair is cut close to the scalp, streaked with a little grey. I’ve gathered that she and Suki are book group friends, meeting fortnightly to discuss literary works that Suki admitted, as a whispered aside, ‘are a bit of a struggle sometimes. But I needed new friends in Edinburgh and they were happy to welcome me in.’
Not much evidence of welcoming vibes now as Dinah opens a book, making a cursory effort to allow a little room for me on the sofa. Meanwhile Oliver has been busying himself by stoking and poking at the wood burner.
Suki darts around, trying to refill glasses that don’tneed refilling, and urging Oliver to ‘stop poking, Ols. It’s fine!’ Finally she settles on a chair by the stove.
‘That was a lovely dinner,’ I start. ‘Thank you, Suki.’
‘Alotof carbs,’ remarks Dinah again, who I’ve learnt is a psychotherapist. Is she as chilly as this with her clients?
‘Dinah, you must show Carly your art,’ Suki enthuses, swivelling towards me. ‘She absorbs all of her clients’ fears and traumas and distils them into these amazing—’ She breaks off. ‘How would you describe your art, Dinah?’
‘I don’t really talk about it,’ Dinah says, still gripping her book. ‘I prefer the work to speak for itself.’ She purses her lips and, as Suki shifts uncomfortably in her seat, I prickle with annoyance on her behalf. Really, there was no need for that.
‘Sounds fascinating anyway,’ I remark.
‘Oh, Lyla loves Dinah’s work,’ Suki says, having recovered her sparkle. ‘Maybe I’ll buy them a painting, Dinah? To celebrate the baby, when it arrives?’
Dinah blinks at her as if this is an insane suggestion. ‘They’re very young, aren’t they? To be starting a family?’
Suki blanches and Oliver swings round from the fire, still gripping the poker. ‘They’re twenty-two,’ she says levelly. ‘Notthatyoung …’
‘And you’re okay with this, are you?’ Dinah asks, in a neutral tone, turning to me.
‘Well, I er—’ I start, but she leaps in.
‘How many kids d’you have?’
‘Three,’ I reply. ‘Two girls and a boy.’
Dinah nods as if this confirms something for her. ‘All grown up?’
‘Well, yes,’ I say.Obviously.Considering I probably look – and certainly feel – ancient.
‘The thing I don’t understand,’ she announces, sitting up pertly now, ‘is why parents can’t let go of their kids when they’ve actually grown up. You know?’
I blink at her. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘The way they keep fussing, running around after them. Worrying about them constantly, even though they’ve left home—’
‘They still exist even when they’ve left home,’ Suki says with a bright smile.
‘Like you, following Lyla up to Edinburgh!’ Dinah exclaims. It’s impossible to tell if this is good-natured teasing between friends.
‘Oh, I know.’ Suki laughs and shakes her head. ‘Iamridiculous, I realise that …’
Dinah’s mouth has set in a flat line. ‘I know people who send their adult kids food parcels, as if they’re incapable of going to the shops!’
