“There are lots of retirees in this village,” I said, but most of the people in the garden were our age or slightly older.
Cytrine brought us a menu and our pints. She waved at someone. “Woohoo, look at who it is!” she said andpointed at me. Within seconds, several people were headed towards us.
“Oh, God.”
“Who are all they?” Ollie asked as Kennedy tried to drink his pint.
“Arden, what a surprise to see you in a pub, not!” said Odette Douglas as she came over.
“I mean, you’re literally in a pub as well – I mean, hi Odette! Hi Tatiana!” I said to her daughter who was walking beside her.
“Did you hear?” Odette said before she’d even got near our table and turned to show us her profile. She cupped her belly in the long flowy maxi dress she wore and leaned back so her tummy protruded ever so slightly.
I stared at her for a second, before it clicked. “Oh! Oh, wow. Congratulations.”
“I’m nine weeks!”
I cocked my head. “Isn’t that very early to tell people?”
“Mummy’s very happy to be pregnant,” said the weird Victorian child that Odette swore blind was her actual daughter and not some orphaned ghost that haunted her. “She told Daddy to lie on top of her and wrestle a lot, or she would divorce him after he lay on Arabella Sweet a lot and wrestled with her.”
Ollie choked on his pint.
“And now I’m having a baby sister, and we will call her Eurydice,” Tatiana informed us.
Odette laughed gaily and yanked Tatiana away, but not before her husband – Tommy, the aforementioned wrestling enthusiast – came up to join his wife and child. And his soon-to-be second child, who, despite Tatiana having already named, was far more likely to be christened ‘Daddy’s Last Chance’.
“Hello, Arden,” he said. Tommy was a smug man with a severe Napoleon complex. He was about five foot six, and this bothered him. He worked as a GP in Sittingstonand had been one of the many, many men to enjoy Arabella’s company. A fan of mine, he was not.
He saw Ollie. “Friend?” he said. He was also a homophobe.
“Oliver Ross,” Ollie said. Ollie had a knack for knowing when people were twerps and trying to puff themselves up. He stood up when he introduced himself, as he was taller than me he had at least six inches on Tommy, and deepened his voice to really draw on that Lowland burr. It usually worked on annoying Englishmen.
Tommy looked him up and down and smiled. “Tommy Douglas.DrTommy Douglas,” he said and put out his hand for a shake. Ollie gripped it, and I saw Tommy wince.
“Pleasure,” Ollie said, locking eyes. To add to the scene, Kennedy stuck his nose in Tommy’s crotch.
“Well, we must be off. We just came in for some fish and chips, as I’m not much of a drinker, not like you, Arden,” Odette said. “Come along, Tatiana, mummy needs a lie-down. I shouldn’t be on my feet for such lengthy periods in my condition, and Arden’s kept me talking too long.”
They toddled off, and Tommy threw us a filthy look as they left.
Ollie stared at me.
“What?” I asked, stopping Kennedy from getting up on the table.
He was still staring at me.
“I wasn’t exaggerating about the people around here,” I said.
“Yes, I’m seeing that now.”
At that moment, Kennedy escaped my grip and made a beeline for Cytrine, who was bringing out some banana sundaes that were about to make a child’s day. She squealed and tried to hold them as high as she could outof Kenny’s way. Both Ollie and I rushed over. “Cytrine, I’m so sorry. Bad, Kennedy. Very bad dog!” I yelled.
I looked up to see a slightly taller woman take the two sundaes out of Cytrine’s hands. She yelled “Heel!” at Kennedy, and he did exactly what he was told. He sat on the ground and waited obediently for his next command.
“Good boy,” said Nigella. She whistled, and her two sons, Archie and Luca, ran over to us and each grabbed a sundae. “And what do we say?” she asked them.
In unison, the two little dark-haired boys recited in perfect RP: “Thank you, Mummy, thank you, Mrs Hughes, hello Mr Forrest, hello Mr Forrest’s friend.”
