‘I’ll call you for dinner,’ I say, ‘but the talking bit can be hard, can’t it?’
He nods seriously. ‘Thank you so much.’
Dan is having great fun as he remembers both Tony and Marcus from school, and soon insults are being traded.
‘Keep it down,’ says Lorraine, who is passing, ‘Betty gets upset if she hears shouting.’
‘Sorry,’ they all murmur, like schoolboys.
‘You’ve still got it,’ I say.
There is no sign of Elisa but nobody, least of all Lexi, notices.
At seven fifteen, I decide we’ve waited long enough, tell everyone where to sit and with a few helpers, start dishing up my speedily cooked scallops or cheesy garlic bread for anyone young who thinks shellfish is gross.
‘I love scallops but I can’t have them now,’ says Lois miserably. I hand her a plate containing a tiny smoked salmon quiche, small enough not toover-fill a heavily pregnant person.
‘You are an angel,’ she says, sighing.
By half seven, the plates are clean and my Lebanese shredded chicken salad with pomegranate, and a whole feast of Lebanese sides are on the table. I have made everything myself, put in plenty of simpler stuff for the younger people, and there’s even a pile of my own sausage rolls because Teddy thinks these are the last word in entertaining.
There’s pink lemonade, sparkling water, wine and orange juice, and Dan clinks his glass for a toast.
‘This is for Lexi, our darling girl who has so many new people to love her,’ and everyone cheers. ‘And to Caitlin, Lorraine, my mother, Betty, and finally, and most of all, to my beloved Freya, for cooking this delicious feast to bring us together.’
We all raise our glasses and toast. Then dig in.
Lexi finally raises the knotty issue at pudding.
It’s my masterpiece, the thing Lexi asked for: a huge Black Forest meringue tower filled with chocolate ganache,non-alcoholic cherries for the children’s sakes, marscapone cream and dusted with sparkling edible golden dust.
‘Where’s Elisa?’ she asks loudly, as I’m about to cut into it.
The table falls silent.
‘Dearest Lexi,’ says William and he sounds so sad. ‘Your ...’ He casts an apologetic glance at me. ‘Elisa did phone to say she might be late but she’d be here about an hour ago. I have rung but nothing. I am so sorry.’
‘I’ll kill her,’ mutters Marcus.
Can we all watch, murmurs Mildred.
‘Thank you, Marcus,’ says a high, wobbly voice and there’s Elisa, in through the unlocked kitchen door and looking less than her best. ‘My Wearable Chanel Wallet fell into a drain so I hadno phone! And everyone laughed.’
She begins to cry and against all my better instincts – OK, against the screeching of Mildred:Leave her alone! She’s a nightmare!– I bring her into the dining room and sit her down in a chair. She has a scrape on one leg, her mascara has run to panda level, something dark and, from the smell, alcoholic has been spilled on her leopard wrap dress and the carefully tousled hair now just looks tousled.
‘I didn’t mean to be late. I was in town, the heel on one of my shoes went and I fell, and the damned wallet fell. It’s a collectable!’
‘Why were you in town when you were supposed to be here?’ demanded Jo, although I can tell Lorraine was just itching to get there.
I hand Elisa some orange juice thinking that she needs sugar and she drinks it down.
‘I was meeting Etzu and he was late, and it was so noisy in the pub that I went outside to ring him and then everything went wrong. I had no money then, so I walked here.’
I hear a snort of laughter and just know it’s Dan, so I turn and glare at him.
‘Come with me and let’s get you something to wear,’ I say.
I can’t hate her, I tell Mildred as we climb the stairs, with Mildred still ranting, and Elisa going on about how far out we lived and how no taxi would take her.
