The kitchen hums. Coffee and tea are passed around. Liz plates up scrambled eggs with more enthusiasm than skill. I try to help, but Gran shoos me away. “You’ll only get under my feet, dear. You’re a guest. Sit down and let the grown-ups work.”
Eden perches next to me and nudges my knee. “You okay?”
“I think your gran dislocated one of my vertebrae.”
“Yeah. She does that.” There’s a pause as Eden pours syrup onto toast, making it into a sodden raft. “Don’t be scared of her. She likes you.”
“She’s got a presence,” I say.
“Wait until you see her after she’s had a gin or three.”
Milly, who’s now explaining to Liz the superior merits of ultra-pasteurized milk, suddenly turns and says, “Sloane, do you take milk in your tea?”
I freeze. “Um. Yes. Please.”
Eden gives me a look. “She’s never had proper tea.”
Gran gasps. “Never?”
I backpedal. “I mean, I have, but—”
“Oh, you’ve had American tea.” Gran nods sagely, as if I’ve confessed to having survived a shipwreck. “Well, let’s fix that right now.” She sets to work with the businesslike efficiency of a battlefield nurse.
Eden leans over and whispers, “If she asks you about Brexit, run.”
The next ten minutes are a blitz of food, sharp-tongued banter, and the unspoken battle of who can make the best toast. John eats steadily, offering the occasional commentary while Gran alternates between bossing and fussing over everyone, Sloane included.
Breakfast is winding down when Liz claps her hands and says, “Okay, I’m going to wake Pia and Todd. Meena will be awake soon.”
Gran’s face lights up. “Finally! I’ve seen more photos of this child than the royal baby. I’m going to see if she has your chin, Eden.”
To be fair, we all went a little nuts with our camera apps the second Meena was born. She’s probably got over a thousand photos and she’s only 48 hours old.
“Why would she have my chin?” Eden asks, half-laughing.
“Because you were an ugly baby, love. Big head, massive chin. No offense.”
Eden looks mortified. I feel a bubble of laughter making its way from my throat. Jenna bursts out laughing until Milly tells her she had a big forehead when she popped out. Liz rolls her eyes but looks at her mum with love. It’s intriguing to see their British culture come alive right in front of me. Eden has never lost that side of her, even though she’s been in the States for years. Jenna is more American than anyone else in her family, but it’s taken her just a few minutes to slip into her British roots.
I notice, suddenly, that my phone is buzzing. I have three missed calls from an unknown number and a text from Lisa Bentley, the sports therapist.
My mentoring starts today at one and, although I’m super excited, the thought of leaving this circus is weirdly disappointing but also a blessed reprieve. I sidle up to Eden while she’s refilling her coffee.
“I have to go soon. Lisa wants me there by one.”
Eden raises an eyebrow. “Already nervous?”
“Yes. What if I totally screw it up?”
She puts her mug down and looks at me with a seriousness she usually reserves for painting or shopping for boots. “You won’t. You’re brilliant and you know your shit. Just be yourself, Sloane. That’s enough.”
Gran appears at my elbow. “You’re leaving?”
I nod. “I’m shadowing a therapist for the afternoon.”
Gran beams. “Good for you. Make sure to wring them for all the knowledge they’ve got. And if they try to fob you off with jargon, tell them your gran says to stuff it.”
I grin. It’s impossible not to.
