After having refused to eat every single course, Delphina decides to face the tart, the only one that looks familiar and reassuring.
After the first bite, I notice that it has a weird smell, and the texture is not really that of a tart crust.
Concerned, I put the slice back on my plate and stop Ashford with a hand before he can taste it.
“Honey, what are you doing?” He asks.
“Um, you’re on a diet… remember?” I say, elusively.
“No, I don’t, actually,” he replies, before trying to take another bite of the tart.
“You have blood tests to do, it’s better if you avoid desserts!”
My mother starts laughing. “Don’t be silly, Jemma!”
“Yeah,” Ashford replies. “Something has to kill you, right?”
“Not this tart, that’s for sure! It’s home made, and it only contains natural, organic and sustainable ingredients.”
“That’s the problem,” I hiss. “Ashford, can you come to the kitchen for a moment?”
“Of course, love of my life, whatever you want.”
As soon as he gets into the kitchen, Ashford starts growling. “What’s your problem? I’m being polite with your parents, right? The evening is going well and, strange to say, I have more stuff in common with your father than I have with you! I want to eat the tart your mother made and put an end to this farce!”
“You can’t eat the tart!”
“Why not?”
“Because she used peyote flour, that’s why! If you eat it, in fifteen minutes you’ll be on the roof singingLucy In The Sky With Diamondswith a wreath of flowers on your head, thinking that you’re the fifth member of the Beatles!”
Ashford bursts into such loud laughter that he needs to lean against the wall to avoid falling to the ground.
“What’s so funny now?”
Ashford doesn’t answer and keeps laughing.
“You could at least thank me…” I scold him.
He pulls me by an arm towards the door, so that I take a look in the living room. “It’s too late, Jemma.”
Delphina’s plate is already empty and she’s being served another slice. “Mrs Pears, I have to congratulate you. This tart is delicious, and this prickly pear jam is sublime.”
Ashford is in tears laughing. “My mother is high on peyote!”
We go back to the table, intending to try to regain control of the situation, but perhaps I got more worried than I should have, because the evening seems to go on rather quietly.
My mother is the image of peacefulness.
“Would anyone like some digestive tea? Delphina, I would add a touch of relaxing passion flower to yours.”
“… the night I spent with Mick Jagger was no time for relaxing,” Delphina reveals.
We all turn to look at her.
Ashford stares at her, disorientated. “Mother? What does Mick Jagger have to do with herbal teas?”
“The Rolling Stones were on tour and I was in Paris for the society debut of a friend of mine. The party was at the Ritz Hotel, but, for me, it went on privately in Mick’s room,” says Delphina with a faraway look in her eyes.
