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“Uncle Owen!” two voices chorus from the top of the stairs as a thunderous noise signals the arrival of Romana and Smithy’s twin girls. I’m not prepared as they swarm Owen, smothering him in hugs and thrusting stuffed animals at him while asking him to look at their new headbands.
“Hey, the terrible two.” Owen steps back as he tries to speak to both of them at the same time.
“Hey, girls, Paul brought his new best friend round,” Owen says after telling them their headbands are cool, that he loves their new backpacks, and that he’s amazed they both got Star of the Day in school. “This is Alice.” He takes a step back, gesturing to me.
I wave, feeling totally overwhelmed by the tour de force that are these twins.
“Hi.” For once, I’m lost for words. I have no experience with children. Being an only child meant no siblings to fight or fuss over, and still living the single life has resulted in losing touch with the friends of mine who have had kids. They don’t seem to want to invite me to hang out at the soft play centre.
“This is Darcy, and this is Dana.” Owen points the girls out, and I have no idea how he can tell them apart. They’re both dressed in grey leggings and purple T-shirts with matching headbands, and both have the wildest curly black hair I’ve ever seen.
“Are you Uncle Owen’s girlfriend?” one of the girls asks. I’ve already lost track of which one is which, as they’re circling me like buzzards. I’m absolutely the dead carcass in the middle of the desert.
“No, I’m just a friend.”
“We work together,” Owen adds as he beckons me to follow.
“He hasn’t had a girlfriend in forever,” the other twin says, and I can feel the heat coming from Owen’s face.
“Is that right?” I say, loosening up a little.
“Yeah. Dad said he needs to find one, and then he might not be so grumpy,” the first twin adds as Romana sweeps back into the hall.
“Okay, girls, let Owen and Alice come through. Why don’t you both go wash your hands before dinner, please?”
The pair stomp off in sync as Romana leads us through the hall and into the large kitchen.
Like any job, I always find it hard to switch off, and even though the kitchen isn’t from Kitchen City, I’m already clocking the Belfast sink, the cream shaker-style units, and the real oak worktops. This kitchen must have looked amazing when it was first installed, but it’s been lived in. There are pots and pans strewn on the side, tea towels abandoned over the back of chairs, and small jars of spices scattered over the worktops.
“Hey, you made it!” Smithy steps back from the large pan bubbling on the range cooker and slings a tea towel over his shoulder as he greets Owen with open arms.
They proceed to do the most male hug I’ve ever seen, which involves a lot of back slapping and shoulder thumping until Smithy looks my way.
“Alice, I presume.” He holds his hand out, and I’m relieved I’m not in for the back slapping as I take it and smile.
“Yes, and you must be Smithy, the infamous chilli chef.”
Smithy eyes Owen before saying, “She knows about my chilli? What else have you told her?”
“Oh, just the things I thought she needed to know,” Owen replies with a devious smile, which does something funny to my insides.
“Such as?” Smithy pushes.
“That your creative cooking comes at a price.” Owen starts to pick up jars of spices and returns them to the cupboard, knowing exactly where they belong. I relax a little, as this is much more in keeping with the Owen I know.
“Hey, don’t question my methods. I can’t imagine Gordon Ramsay is the tidiest of chefs,” Smithy defends as he rolls his eyes at me.
“Please sit down, guys. The food is almost ready.” Romana pulls out chairs for us, moving a bookbag and a stuffed unicorn from them.
The table is large, with three seats on one side and a wooden bench on the other. There’s a large plate of soft white tortilla wraps in the centre, along with grated cheese, sour cream, and a bowl of nachos.
Darcy and Dana arrive and head for the bench as Owen pulls out the chair next to the one I’m about to sit on.
“Not fair,” one of them says, picking up a spoon from the pile of cutlery. “We always sit next to Uncle Owen.”
“But Uncle Owen has brought a guest with him tonight, so it’s only polite to let them sit next to each other,” Romana tells her daughter gently as she deals out plates.
“Yeah, so they can hold hands under the table,” one of the twins sniggers, nudging her sister.
