‘So, if you’ve only just taken this cottage, where were you staying before, when we met on the beach? Oh, sorry, I guess that’s none of my business. Forget I asked, sometimes my curiosity means I overstep.’
‘No, not at all, we were staying at my friend Chase’s house. I think Ellie would have liked to stay there for ever, it’s pretty swish. But I felt if we were committing to staying for a bit, we should commit properly. And Marion, yes, Marion from tonight, suggested this was coming onto the market as a rental and would make a perfect place until I was ready to buy, or move on.’
‘Got them!’ The children came out of the pantry, overloaded with jars and cans.
‘Hmm… do we need all of that? Butter beans, really? Tinned fruit?’
‘Yes. I think so.’
Alex decided to appeal to Sam, in his role as Ellie’s voice of reason. ‘You want tinned cherries on your pizza, Sam?’
‘Um… uh… um…’ The poor boy looked so torn Alex felt guilty for putting him on the spot.
‘How about we start with the basics, make the dough, make the sauce, pop on tomatoes, maybe some onions, sweetcorn for Sam, and then… Ellie, do you like mushrooms? Great, mushrooms then, some cheese…’ Sylvie stepped in, patiently listing more traditional toppings.
‘Lots of cheese.’
‘Lots of cheese, and then we can see how it looks and if we still want beans, and cherries and um… coconut milk, we can think about it then. What do you reckon?’
Alex watched, impressed, as Ellie considered Sylvie’s words and nodded.
They lined up all the ingredients and Alex went and found a large mixing bowl. Sylvie showed the children where theyneeded to get the mark to on the old-fashioned scales and flour was weighed, olive oil and water poured, with Ellie shrieking in delight as it splashed into the pristine flour, making patterns on the top. Sam stood back a little, as if not that keen on mess. Alex figured he’d better get used to it if he was going to be Ellie’s friend.
They all took it in turns to stir and then pulled the dough out to knead. Sam wasn’t mad keen, despite all of Sylvie’s gentle coaxing. He liked the fact that she didn’t force it on her son. Lots of parents did – he’d noticed that with some of his peers in London, and swore he would never do it himself when the day came – more concerned for their own ego than the non-verbal messages their children were sending out.
With the three of them giving the dough a good working-over, Sam decided to give it a shot after all, and when he stepped back to let the little boy do so, Alex found himself watching Sylvie’s face as she watched her son.
‘Hey, this is fun!’ Sam began to really pummel the dough and quickly beamed over his shoulder at his mum. Sylvie beamed in return and turned to face Alex, who found it impossible not to grin back at her, caught up in Sylvie’s pride and Sam’s enthusiasm. Time seemed to pause – just for a second or two – as Sylvie’s eyes found his and the two of them stood there, smiling at each other, eyes locked and sharing the moment.
Alex was momentarily struck by all the different shades in her eyes, green, grey, hazel, but more than that, the recognition that this wasn’t a mere sexual-pull gaze – he’d had enough experience of the power of those in his life – this was different. This struck something deeper, a soul-bind born of a moment, creating a sense of belonging, an in-this-together feeling which right here, right now was like nothing he had ever felt before. He wanted them all to eat pizza, the four of them to curl up by the fire and stay for ever.
His heart was bowled over regularly with intense joy when Ellie did all sorts of things, both when she was ridiculously clever and really very naughty. He had never fully understood the term ‘pride and joy’ until he had Ellie in his life, but these days it was something he experienced with frequency. Sharing those moments, however, as he was right now, with another adult, an adult who understood the occasional but utter bliss of being a parent, that was like nothing he had experienced before.
The bliss was clearly too much for Sylvie who suddenly broke her gaze, and hence the spell, and muttered something he couldn’t quite make out before turning her full attention back to the children, who with the skill that all kids have, had picked up on their parents’ brief concentration lapse and were both now beating seven bells out of the dough.
‘Whoa! Hold on, I reckon that’s ready now.’ Sylvie waded in and gently batted both children off and rolled the dough back into a smooth ball, ready to pass to Alex. ‘Here you go, what’s the next step?’
‘Leave it to prove.’ He reached out to take the dough from her and accidentally grazed the side of her hand, feeling her flinch in response. He flicked a look at her but she merely turned to the children and suggested they start making the tomato sauce.
The easy camaraderie returned as soon as they started chopping, stirring, spreading and layering and it took no time until there were four individual little pizzas lined up on baking trays ready for the Aga.
Alex placed them in gently and turned to see the bottoms of the children’s feet as they flew through the archway and clattered up the stairs.
‘Wow! Look at the state of it. They’re not stupid, are they?’ The two adults stood and surveyed the kitchen, pristine when they entered, now covered in a sheen of fine flour with giant globules of tomato sauce on the table, the floor, the worktops,sliding down the door of the Aga and most of it adorned with the odd sprinkling of bits of chopped vegetables.
‘On the upside, they’ve managed to miss the ceiling. It won’t take us long to sort it out.’ Sylvie smiled, the nervousness of earlier completely evaporated.
‘You know we’re going to clean it and then the pizzas will be ready and we’ll have to start all over again.’
‘Such a ray of sunshine.’
‘You’ve never seen Ellie eat before. Swear she’s like some kind of flesh-eating gorgon who manages to get her entire supper not just on her face but on her shoes, in her hair, in different rooms of the house. She’s a walking, talking version of Mr Twit’s beard.’
‘Harsh!’
‘Harsh but fair. You wait.’
‘Well, I won’t be able to even look at her as she eats now. I’ll laugh and give her a complex.’
