There’s no point dancing round what happened. ‘He dropped his quiz pen a long way down the side of the sofa and when he pulled it out he was also waving a picture of my mum and … a guy.’
One eyebrow shoots up. ‘Your dad?’
I sigh. ‘I assume it’s him. I wouldn’t care, I’ve looked through every damned book in the place since I found the last pictures because I wassodetermined not to be tripped up again.’ I close my eyes and shake my head. ‘Apart from dropping meringue in the poor guy’s crotch I didn’t let on it was a significant photo. And the guy was very chilled about the mess.’
Sophie’s nostrils are twitching. ‘Thiscouldwork for you. People love the chance of a spectacular stuff up. And I bet he wasn’t short of attention afterwards either.’
Sometimes it’s annoying she’s so right. Plum should be the one with the innate sense because her dad was the child psychologist. Before he buggered off when she was six Sophie’s dad was a long-distance bus driver. One day he took a coach load of holiday makers home to Chester-Le-Street and never came back.
I grin. ‘Nell texted. So many women rushed to help the unfortunate guy he had multiple date offers, so she gave the event three cupids.’ I’m not in the market for gorier details.
‘So are you going to show me the photo?’
I dip in the pocket of my dress for my phone. As she taps the phone screen her face falls. ‘Shit. They’re on the beach … she’s very hands on, isn’t she …? I mean, your mum always seemed so respectable … and uptight …’ Her voice diminishes to a whisper then stops.
I may as well fill in the blanks. ‘Put it this way, she’d never have let me out in a bikini that small. And if she had and I’d draped myself over someone like that, I hope one of you would have been kind enough to tell me to either back off or get a room.’ Last night when I saw it I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Then my shock turned to indignance, and now I can’t criticise enough.
She crinkles her face. ‘I completely see why you lost control of your pudding.’ She pulls me into a hug. ‘Well done for holding it together.’
‘How can a simple photograph be so upsetting?’ I actually felt like I had a noose around my throat.
Sophie’s screwing her eyes up in an effort to take in the detail as she scrolls around the phone screen. ‘Your mum looks so young and pretty – and from her body language I’d say she’s very happy. In love, even. So, it wasn’t just a holiday fling either. Your birthday’s September, you were conceived closer to New Year than summer.’
‘I’ve spent hours staring at it.’ Pretty much all night, on and off. ‘For thirty odd years where I came from has been a blank space I refused to think about. Now suddenly there’s this real live couple who even look like they like each other.’ That’s a euphemism. It’s obvious they can’t keep their hands off each other.
‘It’s only one snapshot. But that picture has a very different feel from what you’ve always understood.’ She sniffs. ‘We always had a special bond because our dads both left us. I’m sure my mum has some pictures of a time when she and my dad were happy too. Or she might have done if she hadn’t burned them all.’ She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. ‘But maybe it’s time for you to ask your mum about it?’
I sigh. ‘I can’t start grilling mum when she’s on the other side of the world and emailing once a month from an Internet cafe, if I’m lucky. She’s always got really upset talking about my biological dad, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable talking about it even in St Aidan.’ In my head, I came from a one night stand. And my mum couldn’t tell me what my dad looked like because it was dark. But she knew him just enough for Laura to be there with her buns and her musical box and her pointy writing and her presents. Not forgetting her legacy and her recipes. And now I’m remembering more, it’s becoming obvious I spent a lot more time at the flat when I was small than I’d realised.
Sophie opens the basket on the table and from her stare there’s something profound coming. ‘It’s one picture from before you were born, and you can’t change the past. But if you knew more details, youmightchange your view of it.’ She leaves it at that and starts flicking through the recipe cards. ‘Crumble, fizzy jelly, fool, mousse, self-saucing pudding. However badly that guy in the photo behaved, his mum was certainly a whizz with rhubarb.’ She smiles at me over the top of the card she’s tapping against her chin. ‘Not that that makes up for anything. We both deserved better than our biological dads gave us. Not that I let it hold me back any.’
I totally agree. ‘Me neither.’
Sophie purses her lips and her eyes go all flinty. ‘I was so damned determined to show mine I could make a success of my life without any help from him.’ She stares around at the vast L-shaped living room and kitchen areas with their wide doors pushed back, and along the low roof of the children’s bedroom wing beyond. ‘I probably have him to thank for every last polished limestone floor slab in this place. And the business too.’ Although we both know he’s not around to see any of it.
‘Too right.’ I have nothing to add. I lived my life with no reference to the guy who impregnated my mum, so he didn’t influence me at all. ‘So guess which neighbour lent us a spare pair of jeans?’ I say, quickly changing the subject before it gets too heavy. I don’t wait for her answer because there only is one. ‘And Nell was so long picking them up, Plum had to go and hurry her up. When she got next door, she overheard Nell and Charlie having a deep convo about some kind of easing thing.’
Sophie looks puzzled. ‘Was itquantitativeeasing by any chance?’
‘That’s the one. Does it get any raunchier?’ Even if I’m biting back the jealousy, I’m not going to waste rubbing it in with Sophie.
Sophie’s left eyebrow is slightly raised. ‘Do you even know what that is?’
‘Hell, no, but it sounds fabulously dirty. And at the end Plum said they were joking round about Nell going back to the kitchen and “getting fiscal”.’
Sophie pulls a face. ‘Bleugh. Sounds like a match made in innuendo tax haven. Seriously, this one’s going to take more than a shared interest in accounts’ jargon and leftover Pavlova, Clemmie.’
I’ve no idea why Sophie’s still being so dismissive. ‘Which reminds me, about my other news.’ It doesn’t exactly, but it’s a good way to move on to those drinks we still haven’t had yet. ‘Charlie showed me how to make those nasty tasting brown things you like so much. I’ve brought some to have with our tea.’ I’ll be for the high jump if I mention the ‘B’ word with the kids around.
Sophie’s eyebrow is working overtime this afternoon. ‘Considering he lives next door he and his dog spend a lot of time hanging out at yours.Andhe buys you presents. Maybe you’re the one he wants to “get fiscal” with?’
I laugh because she’s reading this so wrong. ‘It’s no secret, Diesel’s the womaniser. Or at least he prefers women’s company to men’s. And all Charlie wants is to buy my flat, to the point he’s so desperate he can’t let me out of his sight in case I sell to someone else. That gift was simply a measure of how much he effed up on his quest. Considering what he did the gift should have been way bigger than a food mixer.’ It’s completely straight forward. Once you understand what drives Charlie, it all falls into place. Although I’d never exploit it, it’s good for him to face up to his mistakes and pay for them.
‘And what about the cookery lessons?’ She’s certainly screwing me down here. ‘Wecould help you with those. Or arehisbrownies better than ours?’
I smile as I realise. This is Sophie being competitive and also feeling shut out. But at the same time, there’s a strange part of me that wantshimto give me those lessons. I’d never say, but I like that he wants to come and do it. And even if he rarely smiles and just gets on with the job there’s something deliciously shivery about having him there in the kitchen. I’d hate to have that taken away. ‘It’s definitely better if someone runs me through the method, that way I have less disasters, but I want to save you mermaids for the more important stuff. As he’s there and he’s free, it makes sense to make do with second best for the baking. And the recipes are all Laura’s.’ I hope that’s enough to stall her. ‘Shall I make some tea then? I left the “food that shall not be named” on the island.’
As she raises a hand and heads for the kitchen her eyes are shining. ‘The tea’s all ready. Sit down, there’s something I want to run past you while we have it.’ Her glow is nothing to do with my brownies either. That’s the sparkle she gets when she’s empire building. A couple of minutes later, she’s back with a tray and a pile of serviettes where the brownies should be. She pops a handful of fruit pieces in front of Maisie, and slides a brochure across the table to me.
