I watch Luke as he deftly manages to avoid fights about who goes next and what songs they are going to sing. There’s an easiness in his manner that I envy. But what I envy even more is the effortless sense of teamwork between this Luke and this Jess. It’s as easy as breathing for them. No wonder that, eleven years in the future, the older versions of us are suffocating without it.
It’s absolute chaos for the next hour. I get a couple of frantic texts from Lola, saying that she’ll be back as soon as possible but traffic is bad around the one-way system. The girls get fed up with karaoke, so in my desperation, I suggest makeovers. I realize as soon as the words are out of my mouth that it’s a bad idea. Lola’s not too keen on the girls wearing make-up and has always vetoed the idea before, but now I’ve said it, I can’t go back on it – they’re all leaping around shouting out which colour nail varnish they want.
Thankfully, the guest bedroom here is also still unofficially my bedroom, and I have some a basic make-up kit stashed here for emergencies. I rush upstairs to fetch it while Luke turns a chair around from the dining table for our first willing victim – I mean, subject – to sit on.
‘Right,’ says Luke, as soon as I’ve returned with my cosmetics bag. ‘Get in line!’ He looks at me. ‘I’ll do hair; you can do make-up.’
Hair? I wasn’t planning on doing hair as well! But now Luke has said it, it’s going to be hard to come back from. Why didn’t he ask me first? And then I sigh inwardly. Because I know exactly why Luke didn’t ask me first. Being the oldest of five, and also the one his whole family seems to rely on for both practical and emotional support, he’s used to making decisions fast and putting things into practice without much input from anyone else. I’m just as independent, but for different reasons, and it’s a constant reason why we butt heads.
It’s just like the situation with my mum on the night of our anniversary party. He just doesn’t stop to think anyone else might have some useful input or, at times, a valid but alternative point of view. I’d let myself get all fired up about that again, but I don’t have the luxury. We have eight fidgety girls to entertain.
‘How are you going to do hair?’ I ask him as he grabs another chair and puts it next to the first.
He grins and gives me a superior look. ‘Used to do Cassie’s hair all the time when I was younger. Piece of cake.’
Yeah. That’s what he thinks. While Cassie, his oldest sibling and only girl in the family, can be a bit full on, I doubt she presented the same challenge as a gaggle of seven-year-olds hyped up on sugar. And then there’s the fact that the twins have tight ringlets, a hair texture he has absolutely no experience with. He’s in for a rude awakening.
‘I think maybeIshould do hair and you should do make-up,’ I counter.
‘Oh, ye of little faith … But I think we’re better off doingit my way.’ He nods at the make-up bag. ‘I have absolutely zero experience with that stuff.’
An idea sneaks into my mind. I press my lips together to prevent myself from smirking and turn to the girls lined up beside the two chairs. ‘Would you like to help Luke out?’
‘How?’ Charity says.
‘Maybe … If Luke hasn’t got much experience of wearing make-up, we should givehimthe makeover!’
The girls squeal their enthusiasm for this idea at such a pitch that I’m sure my ears are bleeding.
By the time Lola’s key turns in the front door and she arrives panting, with a large supermarket carrier bag full of what I presume is a cake, Luke is colourful and sparkly and glorious. He’s wearing a unicorn headband, and at least twenty glittery hair clips are jammed into his hair. Lola takes one look at his clown-like make-up, lets out a scream and drops one of her shopping bags.
‘They got a bit bored,’ I offer by way of explanation.
She picks up the bag at her feet. ‘If beauty was a crime, you would be a free man,’ she says with a glint in her eye.
Luke sighs. ‘I’m guessing it would be a bad idea to look in the mirror?’
Lola chuckles and turns towards the kitchen. ‘I will relieve you from your torture shortly. Please, give me a few moments to get this cake ready.’
Lola makes good on her word. Within five minutes she’s flicking off the lights in the dining room and eight pairs of eyes grow wide as she walks towards them, cake resplendent with lit candles, and both her daughters rush to the table, getting ready to make their birthday wishes.
Once the cake is cut and the girls are busy demolishing their slices, she turns to Luke and me and makes a shooing motion. ‘Go! Be free! I have it from here.’
I try to protest. I know just how difficult it is dealing with that lot single-handed, but Lola stops me. ‘You have been a blessing to me today. And you … ’ She pauses to smile indulgently at my boyfriend, and then gives him a kiss on the cheek, which makes him blush. ‘You are an angel. Go celebrate your anniversary and let me deal with these children.’
We retreat to the far end of the kitchen. ‘It’s not late,’ Luke says to me.
I check the time on the digital clock on the oven. It’s only just past eight.
‘Do you want to go out for a drink, grab a bite to eat?’
I shake my head. ‘It’s a lovely idea, but I’m just … ’ I catch my reflection in the glossy black oven door. ‘I look like the Wicked Witch of the West!’ Although Luke looks as if he’s been mauled by a pack of fairies, I’m not looking much better myself. My hair is a mess and I’m hot and sticky. Who knew chasing eight small girls around could be such an effective workout?
He steps towards me, brushes a strand of tangled hair out of my face and kisses the tip of my nose. ‘You look beautiful.’
He’s making it very hard to say no, but what I want more than anything is some elite snacks and a good book. ‘Do you mind if we don’t go out tonight?’
Instead of looking disappointed, Luke’s smile brightens. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
