Skylar glares at me, as if she’s about to wrap her hands around my neck.
“Please be nice. She’s invited us over for dinner.”
“She invitedyoufor dinner. You dragged me here!”
“Stop being so dramatic.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms. “I have school tomorrow.”
“So?”
“So we’ll be late, and I’ll be tired.”
“We won’t be late. I promise you’ll get enough sleep. Besides, since when did you care about school?”
“Since when did people I don’t know start inviting me over for dinner?”
“Firstly, Iris is a lovely person. And she knows me – isn’t that good enough?”
“Exactly! She knows you.”
I open the car door and wait outside for my daughter to join me.
She climbs out of the car, making sure that the door slams violently shut behind her.
“I’m not going to be a polite little girl.”
“At least try to watch your language.”
“Shall I just not speak, then?”
“I’m only asking you to stop sayingfuckevery other word.”
She rolls her eyes and steps onto the pavement with me.
“How old is this woman?”
“I don’t know exactly; no one does. She’s a bit of an enigma around here.”
“Right,” she says, dripping with sarcasm.
“See that?” I say, pointing to Iris’ shop, which is currently closed. “It’s been here for at least fifty years. It’s actually become a tourist attraction.”
“Wow,” she says, unenthusiastically. “So exciting.”
I shake my head as I ring the buzzer. Iris lets us in right away, and I push the door open to let my daughter pass, before following her up the stairs. Iris lives in the apartment above her shop, on the first floor.
“Good evening,” she says, welcoming us with a dazzling smile. “I’m so happy to have you both here.”
“Thank you for inviting us.” I kiss her on the cheek and hand her a bottle of wine.
“Come in, come in,” she says, bustling us into the living room.
“It smells amazing,” I say, as my stomach begins to growl.
“Pasta with a creamy mushroom and bacon sauce. I hope you like it,” she says to us both, before turning her attention to my daughter. “You must be Skylar.”
“She’s smart,” Skylar says to me.
