She half drags me as I stumble and lurch down the pavement. Somehow we make it back and the last thing I remember is having the duvet tucked around me and someone stroking my hair across my forehead.
Chapter Seventeen
The cycle from my home to Reeni’s beautiful beachside house takes under twenty minutes. The scenery is stunning as I pedal along, the sweat beading on my forehead. The weather is still very stuffy and we need a storm to clear the air.
I glide to a stop at the huge ornate black wrought-iron gates of Driftwood House, which are seriously impressive. The sandy coloured driveway sweeps away from the road and the house isn’t visible from the gateway. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess someone important or famous was hidden away here when, in fact, it belongs to a normal married couple with one tiny toddler.
Reeni must have been looking out for me, as the gates glide open the instant I hit the intercom button. I push my bike down the crunchy stoned driveway which is covered in golden chips and is flanked by fully landscaped tall borders of varying greens and textures. I never tire of admiring the house that comes into view. It’s statesman-like in appearance, red brick toppedwith white pebble-dash render, and stands surrounded by its own grounds. Colourful bedding plants surround the front door and huge bushy hydrangeas covered in large white blooms fill a turning circle in front.
Reeni is already standing at the open front door, Olly next to her, wearing a bright blue apron covered in elephants. She’s changed her hair and it’s a gorgeous chin-length shiny black bob.
‘Aunty Elly Welly,’ Olly squeals and he wiggles his hands towards me. ‘Pizza night.’
I prop my bike up on its stand and take my satchel out of the basket. ‘Hey, Olly.’
He grabs me by the hand and tows me towards the kitchen before I even have time to say hi to Reeni.
She loops her arm around my shoulders and squeezes. ‘He’s not been in nursery all week. I think he’s sick of the sight of me,’ she whispers into my ear.
The kitchen table is already set up with baking paraphernalia. There are two big bowls filled with flour. A jug of water, a bottle of oil and a tub of salt, along with spoons, knives and rolling pins. Olly has dropped my hand and is climbing up onto one of the kitchen chairs.
‘I take it we’re not ordering in, then?’ I say.
‘Absolutely not,’ says Reeni chirpily. ‘We’re making our own, aren’t we, Olly?’
Olly already has both hands in one of the bowls of flour and a cloud of it is beginning to fill the air. ‘Pizzas,’ he shouts as he flings even more skyward.
‘Hand wash first, young man,’ says Reeni, and she picks him up and carries him over to the kitchen sink.
I put my satchel down on the side, next to a paper carrier bag from the local pharmacy, and join them to wash my hands. Once we’re all back around the table, Reeni orchestrates things and barks directions at us. She measures out oil, baking powderand the right amount of warm water, and Olly tips them into our bowls. The pinch of salt is a little more challenging for little fingers and I have a feeling my dough might well end up inedible.
‘Best bit now, Olly. Get your hands messy.’ I grin at him and dive my hands into my bowl, showing him how it’s done.
Reeni looks over at me with raised eyebrows. ‘Come on then. It’s been killing me. How did it all go?’
I nod towards Olly, who is paying us no attention and is busy pulling the gooey, messy dough in every direction. There’s more of it on the table and halfway up his arms and in his hair than in a ball in his bowl. ‘Little ears! Later.’
Reeni glowers. ‘It’d better be worth the wait. What else is new?’
‘You know the photography night I told you about?’
‘Yes.’ Reeni’s enthusiasm is loud. ‘I was thinking about that. Jackson’s idea is mint. And you’d be so good at it. Please tell me you decided to go ahead with it?’
‘I’ve been playing with some ideas for an advert to put up. I’ll show you later.’
‘Brilliant. I could help with the barbecue and serving up the drinks. Then you could concentrate on the lesson and interacting with everyone. Will it make enough to keep you going?’
‘I think so, if I can fill up the places. I think eight to ten people will be manageable and everyone will still get something out of it.’
She beams at me. ‘Perfect.’ Olly begins to climb down from his seat, his hands smearing sticky goo on everything he touches. ‘Come here, you. We’ll wash those hands then we can do toppings.’
My dough is done. While Reeni washes Olly down, I knead his dough to finish it off for him. Once both doughs are rolled out onthe floury table, we load them up with tomato sauce for a base and then with the toppings Reeni has brought from the fridge. In true toddler form, there is more shredded cheese, torn ham, triangles of pineapple and ripped basil leaves on the table and floor than there are on the pizzas. Olly’s attention span is at an end so Reeni wipes his hands clean again and lets him watch a cartoon in the playroom.
She opens the fridge and pulls out a perfectly circular pizza loaded with evenly spaced toppings. ‘I didn’t know how edible our made ones would be, so I made up this one earlier.’ She grins at me.
We put the pizzas in the oven and begin tidying up.
‘Is Aaron still at work?’
