Trying not to shudder at the thought, I manage to put the puppies back into their little car crate and get out with the boys to go to see my friend at the cinema door.
‘Marin,’ I say, hugging her.
She’s dressed beautifully – in something wonderfully expensive, I think, and she looks happy. I’m glad. Marin does love her clothes but her mother, who can do passive aggressive and plain old aggressive like a veteran boxer, knocks her confidence all the time. It’s wonderful to see Marin here today among the glam posh mums, looking confident, although she is a little tired around the eyes, I notice.
‘I’ll be back at five,’ I say, ‘to get Luke and anyone else who needs a lift to your place.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she says gratefully. She comes closer to whisper. ‘Some people literally want to dump the kids and run tillsix-thirtypick-up at my house. How do they think I’m getting them back to ours? In a bus? On my magic carpet? I do not understand some parents.’
I laugh out loud. ‘See you later,’ I say. ‘I can’t arrange the magic carpet but I have room for two more in my car.’ I hug her again and look around for Luke, but he’s already inside, talking to Rachel, delighted with himself.
My afternoon passes in a blur of life admin and puppy fur. Atfive-twenty, myself, Luke and two other boys arrive at Marin’s house, which is remarkablySUV-free. I park carefully then let everyone out on the side of the footpath.
I always feel anxious when I’m taking care of other people’s children; Shazz says it’spost-traumatic stress disorder. This is her latest kick – that I have PTSD afterJean-Luc’s death and that’s why I can’t date.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want to lock lips with some of the idiots that put their names into the online dating hat. You saw those guys ... Wouldyoudate any of them? No!’
‘We’ll find the right website,’ insists Shazz. ‘Give me time.’
Marin and Nate’s house is a testament to Marin’s perfectionism.
It’s large, beautifully decorated in elegant creams and whites, but it’s cosy too. That’s Marin’s touch: dried flowers and wicker hearts hanging from the bannisters, Rachel’s tiny old ballet shoes in a framed box beside a miniature pair of Joey’s shoes from when he was born and somebody gave him adorable but deeply silly Converse shoes. He couldn’t wear them but they look so sweet in their box frame.
The party is in the living room where three other parents, all mums, are trying to calm things. I stay there for fifteen minutes and help out, then, knowing the food is due because there’s a bit of moaning going on about people being hungry, I head into the kitchen.
Rachel and Marin are shoving McDonald’s, purchased by Nate who has just arrived, onto plates.
Nate is ticking off a list of orders and when he sees me, he puts it to one side for a hug.
‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he says, planting a kiss on my cheek. ‘Now, I think we might have too many packets of fries, but then you can never have too many fries, can you?’
‘No,’ says Rachel, grabbing a pack and stuffing a few into her mouth.
I laugh and for a moment, myself, Rachel and Nate grab fries, moaning at the taste.
‘I love this stuff,’ says Nate.
‘I don’t know why it took you so long to get it,’ hisses Marin at him. ‘You said you’d have it all laid out when we got home. I thought we’d have to give them the cake next and they’d all be hyped up on sugar.’
‘Even more hyped up,’ says Rachel. ‘You want to see how many sweets they ate at the cinema.’
‘I had a work call,’ Nate bites back. ‘Life doesn’t stop for parties. Jesus, it’s not exactly hard – amusingtwenty-five kids in a house with a giant TV, every cable channel you could ask for and a giant cake.’
I’m caught in the middle of a deeply uncomfortable family scene, so I grab the first three plates and head back into the living room.
‘I have chicken nuggets, barbecue sauce and fries,’ I announce, slightly shaken by what I’ve just witnessed.
There’s a wild scramble and, luckily, Rachel comes in with more food before the riot starts. For once, I am glad that Luke only has small parties. The very notion of entertainingtwenty-five kids is overwhelming. But even more overwhelming is the thought that things are tricky between Nate and Marin, whom I have never once seen bicker like that.
I am very anxious about change. Even if Shazz is right about me having some syndrome as a result ofJean-Luc’s death, change is never good.
Not in my experience, anyway.
16
Sid
I always feel the thrill of going home when I reach the crest of the hill into Greystones. Until that point, I’ve been driving along with only mountains in the distance, but at that crest, suddenly sea is spread in front of me like an iridescent cape of blue, shimmering into the curve of the harbour, reaching out into the distance along the horizon.
