Libby’s raising her eyebrows. ‘Give them what they know, works every time.’ She marches after them, and just before she closes the door she pops her head in again. ‘Enjoy the peace while it lasts, the kids coming next areseriouslyhard work.’
‘You mean there’s …’I manage to strangle myworse!!!!squeak before it comes out.‘Great,’ I say, really, really brightly, and I think I get away with it.
‘They’re allergic to everything, difficult to please and awkward with it. And they’re bilingual.’
Oh my days.‘I’ll brace myself while I make my gingerbread men.’
‘Unless they’re egg free and gluten free, they won’t be interested. Best make them gender neutral too, their mother’s very hot on equal ops.’
And then the door bangs, and they’re gone.
When I nip into Bill’s room and look it up, the onlyPretis an hour away, at the airport. Is it really mean of me to wish that while they’re there, they’ll get on a plane and fly back to where they came from? And take their even more impossible friends with them.
