Lexi looks so happy and I feel utter shame that it has taken so many years to reach this point. I should have organised this years ago. I’m Lexi’s mother and I owe it to her to knowallher family properly even if her birth mother isn’t my favourite person.
Somewhere deep inside me I heard Mildred go ‘But’.
‘Shut up, Mildred,’ I say mentally, ‘you really are surplus to requirements.’
Lunch is fabulous fun. Adele, typically, turns out to be a wonderful cook but I do not hold this against her. Instead I ask her about some of the recipes.
‘I have two sons,’ she says. ‘Elisa was the last baby and possibly a bit spoilt,’ she adds, looking down. ‘But the boys: they ate so much. One minute the fridge would be full and the next minute it would be empty. I just couldn’t keep the place full of food. You have to learn how to cook but I’m a simple cook. You’re the proper cook. Chef, sorry,’ she corrected herself.
We were there about an hour and a half when Lexi suddenly enquires: ‘Is Elisa coming?’
‘Do you know,’ said William easily, ‘I don’t think so. This is about us, not just Elisa.’
‘Family,’ Adele and I say at the same time.
We have tea in the garden where Teddy, Lexi and Liam play with Coco, and Liam keeps up his running commentary about how we need a dog.
Finally, it’s time for us to go. So we reluctantly get up and have discussions about what we’ll do next time so we can all meet up with Lexi’s cousins, uncles and aunts. There are hugs and lots of little chats going on in the kitchen where Liam and Teddy have discovered Coco’s stash of treats.
‘She’ll be sick,’ I say to William, who beams at me.
‘I don’t care,’ he says, smiling, and whispers, ‘thank you so very much, Freya.’
Suddenly Teddy lets out an eldritch screech.
‘I never got to go into paddling pool with the fishes,’ she hisses, now catching a glimpse of it again and realising she’s been duped.
‘Next time,’ I say, and take Dan’s hand.
22
You create your own happiness
I can’t work but not because I have no ideas – I’m full of them – but I want to grab a lovely special coffee from Giorgio and Patrick’s first. Just one moment in there makes me happy: that’s down to them.
I run upstairs to check that my hair isn’t too wild, slash a bit of lipstick on and I’ll do. Patrick and Giorgio don’t care what I look like. In five minutes I’m at the café door and I push it open, letting the glorious scents hit me:nutmeg, Patrick must have done something with nutmeg today, I think. And I look around the cabinet to see. There they are: his Portuguese tarts, and he puts an unusual dash of nutmeg into the custard/crème glaze which gives it just a little something extra. The place is half full, buzzing along nicely and there is no sign of either of the men. Instead, Josie, another of theirpart-time staff, is behind the counter.
‘Hi, Freya,’ she says, ‘the usual?’
I’m a big fan of the flat white. Extra dry and fluffy.
‘Yes, Josie, thanks a million,’ I say. ‘Can I just run in the back to see the boys?’
‘Er ...’ Josie says, which should have been my first warning.
There’s a tiny kitchen but it’s fitted out beautifully and even though Patrick buys in most of his stock, he still makes some of the beautiful goodies he sells. He trained in patisserie and met Giorgio when they were both working in a big hotel in London.
‘Hotels are hard work,’ said Giorgio, ‘and then when we fell in love, well, it seemed natural to come home.’
There’s no sign of them there either and I’m a little confused.
‘Josie,’ I yell, ‘where are they?’
‘They might be upstairs,’ she says, sounding harassed. ‘There’s ... uh ... a visitor.’
‘Oh, well I won’t go up then,’ I say, feeling embarrassed at my being here at all. They’re my friends but I don’t know them that well and I’ve never been in the upstairs apartment and—
‘Freya, that you?’ yells Patrick from somewhere upstairs.
