They hugged.
‘What’s the plan for this?’ said Eden, dragging an enormous handbag out of the car.
‘You’re going to wreck your back with that rucksack thing,’ said Savannah, whose own bag was a slim expensive-looking piece of high-quality vegan fabulousness.
‘You’re right,’ said Eden as if she said this a lot and actually got bored with people commenting on her bag. ‘I am going to wreck my back. But this has all sorts of work notes and notebooks and reports I have to read. Plus my make-up and a spare T-shirt in case I spill anything on myself. Loads of stuff. I’ve got one of those rollers for dog hairs because we’ve a cat that comes in now.’
‘A cat, that’s nice,’ said Savannah. ‘Is it your cat?’
‘No, but I call her Raspberry.’
‘Perfect cat name,’ agreed Savannah and her twin grinned.
‘I’d love a cat, or a dog. Do you remember Dexter in the hotel?’
‘Yes,’ said Eden fondly.
Dexter had been a young beagle abandoned outside the gates and instantly brought into the hotel by Stu, who could never resist anything sad and shivering by the side of the road. Including homeless people or drunks.
Meg had not been sure about the beagle. ‘They’re super clever,’ she’d said, even as she wrapped the shivering dog in the blanket and snuggled it. ‘They open cupboards and things, I’ve read about it. They can be destructive when they’re alone.’
‘I’m destructive when I’m alone,’ Stu had joked. ‘He’ll be very good, won’t you?’ Stu had tickled the dog under the chin and then had gone off to do something else, leaving Meg, Eden, Savannah, Rory and Indy with the bedraggled, sad-eyed dog who had the unmistakable pong of roadkill on him.
‘I suppose we should wash him,’ sighed Meg. ‘What will we call him?’
For some reason the name Dexter had been chosen. Dexter had been washed, and had not bitten anyone despite two soapings with an old bottle of baby shampoo that Indy had found. He was very gentle, they all agreed. He’d been fed with left-over cooked chicken and no bones, which he had adored. And had had a nest made for him in one of the halls of the kitchen. This had not suited Dexter, who had howled through the night as soon as he was left alone. Savannah had run downstairs, picked up the dog in his blanket and brought him up to her bed, which was where he had slept until he was very old and had gone off to live in doggie heaven.
‘Why don’t you get a dog?’ said Eden now, thinking of how her sister had adored Dexter.
‘I think Calum is allergic.’
‘You either are or you aren’t,’ said Eden flatly.
Eden still wasn’t sure if she actually liked Calum. There was just something not quite right about him. She couldn’t help being her worst self when she was in his company. Which probably said a lot more about her than him. He was such an alpha male, so eager to leap into mansplaining, so full of himself. It brought out the worst in her.
‘Dogs take up a lot of time,’ said Savannah briskly.
‘That is your “we are not talking about this anymore” voice,’ said Eden.
Savannah shot her an irritated look. ‘You know me too well,’ she said as they walked into The Beach Hut.
Maybe not, thought Eden.
Indy was already there, looking exhausted after an early morning delivery.
‘I did a split shift,’ she said, ‘so I could be here.’
She had a very strong coffee in front of her.
‘Girls! You made it! Wonderful,’ said their mother, rising like a silver-haired goddess from her seat and making everyone in the café look at her. Eden was used to her mother doing this: people looked at Meg the way they looked at Indy. They were both Valkyrie-style women. Tall, athletic, sensual. Meg was tanned with long white hair now and a body honed with yoga and clean living.
It had been hard growing up with a mother like that, Eden sometimes thought.
‘Vonnie has lists of all the things we’re going to do,’ Meg said, after she’d hugged her twin daughters and sat down again.
‘OK,’ said Eden, ‘hand them out.’
The lists were inevitably on pretty pink paper and Vonnie had stuck little paper flowers, angels and hearts onto each one. Her handwriting was the handwriting of a ten-year-old girl: all big loops and hearts over each ‘i’. It was terribly sweet.
