The scrape of cutlery on plates sounds too loud as they all cut into their steaks, and Lissa tries to look like she’s concentratingsuperhard on which salad to eat next to disguise the awkwardness.
‘Lissa,’ Nicole says into the quiet, ‘we’re thinking of heading to the Maldives next year for a holiday. It’s your dad’s sixtieth and we thought we could make it really special.’
Lissa chokes on a mouthful of her food, slams a hand on her chest. ‘That sounds great,’ she manages to get out, clocking the way Elsie glances at her, a little suspiciously, as she says it.
‘It looks amazing,’ Nicole continues. ‘A friend of mine – another designer – went last year, and you wouldn’t believe the photos. The internet doesn’t do it justice, she said. It really is all white sands and clear blue seas. Anyway, I was thinking, maybe you could come?’
Lissa jolts, and from the second look Elsie gives her, she realises it was noticeable. Nicole, however, continues like it was not. ‘There’s this place I want to stay – it’s right on the beach, and each villa has its own pool. I think there’s even a swim-up bar at the main pool. Wouldn’t that be fun?’
‘Lissa doesn’t swim,’ her dad says abruptly, before Lissa has the chance to process that Nicole is inviting her on a family holiday, let alone think of a reply.
Nicole’s mouth turns down. ‘Oh. That’s right.’
A layer of tension ripples around the room, even as Lissa takes a sip of her wine, pretending she doesn’t notice.
‘You don’t swim?’ Elsie frowns. ‘As in you don’t like it, or you can’t?’
‘Leave it, Elsie,’ Nicole murmurs.
‘I’m just asking. Because it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Not being able to swim.’
‘Not weird if you live in the middle of a desert,’ Lissa says with a shrug, in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Elsie rolls her eyes. At what age does it stop becoming acceptable to do this so obviously? Definitely by Lissa’s age, she reckons. ‘Yeah, but we don’t. We live on an island.’
Lissa nods, conceding that with a jab of her fork. ‘Also not weird if you’re allergic to chlorine.’
‘Are you?’
‘No. And I suppose that wouldn’t explain not swimming in the sea.’
‘Unless you were also allergic to salt.’
‘True. Imagine being allergic to salt. Chips would lose their joy. And it would take all the fun out of tequila shots.’
She realises a bit too late that a fourteen-year-old wouldn’t – or at least shouldn’t – know anything about tequila shots, and glances to her dad in silent apology. Elsie, however, snorts out a small laugh, and Lissa can’t help feeling a little pleased at being the cause of it.
‘But why can’t you?’ Elsie presses. ‘Did you never want to learn?’
Lissa hesitates. She could tell her the truth, that she’s always had a healthy respect for the water and that any hopes of her wanting to learn were dashed when Chloe drowned in the pond in their back garden while Lissa was upstairs talking to a friend on the phone. But she’s guessing her dad wouldn’t actually want her to explain all this – and that theory is proven right when he says, perhaps a bit more harshly than necessary, ‘That’s enough, Elsie.’
Lissa can’t help feeling a little sorry for Elsie. It’s not her fault, is it? She clearly hasn’t ever been told enough to understand why this is taboo.
Nicole must sense this too, because when she changes the subject it’s with a deliberately bright tone. ‘Elsie is on the netball team this year. She made the A team.’ The smile she follows that up with is pure proud mother, and it’s enough to make Lissa smile too.
‘Really? That’s amazing. Well done, Elsie.’
‘It’s no big deal,’ Elsie mumbles. Her cheeks have gone a little red, and she’s looking down at her plate. ‘I’m not even sure Ilikenetball.’
‘Of course you do,’ Nicole says.
Elsie shrugs, pushing a piece of tomato across her plate with her fork. Then she looks up. ‘Mum, Jess wants to go into Bath next weekend to go shopping. Just the two of us. We’ll get the train. That’s okay, right?’
Nicole glances at Lissa’s dad. ‘I’m not sure,’ she says slowly.
‘Oh come on.’ Elsie throws her hands in the air. ‘This isn’t about the train thing again, is it? We’re fourteen, we’re not going to be harassed.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Nicole says. ‘Those teenagers the other week …’
