by Gil McNeil
Linda tuts. “You should tell her, Tina. You’re a hairdresser not a bloody magician.”
Connie laughs so much we have to bang her on the back, but rather carefully because she’s so pregnant now none of us are keen to start anything off.
“More cake, anybody?”
Tina winks at me, and we go into the kitchen.
“Smile and the Whole World Smiles with You.”
“Sorry Ange?”
“That would make a useful badge. People look so miserable sometimes. ‘Politeness Costs Nothing,’ that would be a good one.”
Maggie nods.
“ ‘A Stitch in Time Saves Nine.’ Actually, I’ve never understood that one.”
Linda cuts herself another sliver of cake. There’s not much left now, so we’re all having tiny slices, to make it last.
“I think it’s when you notice the button on your new coat is a bit loose, and you’re meant to sew it back on tight right away. So it can’t come off when it’s pouring with bloody rain. I looked like I’d been swimming by the time I got in last week.”
Maggie looks sympathetic. “ ‘What Goes Around Comes Around,’ that’s a good one.”
“I could give that one to my Lauren. God, I’m really looking forward to that, when she has kids and they start giving her hell. It’s the best bit of being a gran as far as I can see.”
Cath nods. “I’m looking forward to that too. Not yet, though. We could knit some ‘Get a Life’ badges too, you know. I’m sure Livvy would like one of those.”
“My Lauren could use a whole bag full; mind you, I’d end up wearing most of them, so maybe not.”
Cath laughs. “I think we all would, Linda.”
I love our Thursday group, and it’s great to know we might be doing badges. Maybe I should knit some and see if they sell. “Keep Calm and Carry On,” or “Things Are Getting Worse, Send Cake” might be good. Or “Make Mine a Large One.” I think Ellen bought one of those, we saw it in a shop in London. You could knit them in pretty pastels. I’ll add it to my list.
Mum has arrived, and we’re all trying to be Nice, especially Gran, but it’s been fairly hard going.
“Honestly, I’ve never heard a grown woman make such a fuss about a couple of tea bags. Why didn’t she bring more with her, if they’re that important?”
“I know, Gran, but they’re her special herbal ones, from that man she sees in Venice.”
“Well, he definitely saw her coming, the prices he charges, and they do all sorts in the supermarkets now, you know, me and Reg were looking at them. Tea to make you sleep, tea to perk you up.”
“Tea to shut you up?”
“No pet, we didn’t see any of that.”
“Oh well, she’ll just have to make do with chamomile then.”
She’s been here for a week now, and so far she’s told Elsie that blue isn’t a good color for older women, asked Lulu when she and Vin are going to stop faffing around with boats and get proper jobs, and told Gran and Reg that their bungalow is suburban and has the most uncomfortable bed she’s ever slept on, and the living room carpet brings on her migraines. Gran’s particularly hurt about the bed because they bought a new mattress specially, and I’ve tried it and it’s lovely. I’m half hoping I can work out a way to “borrow” it once Mum and Dad have gone home; mine’s got a great big dip in the middle, and some mornings when all the kids are in, I can hardly move.
Fortunately, the end of the visit is in sight, so I’m making Sunday lunch and they go back to Venice early on Tuesday morning. Hurrah. Vin and Lulu have been great, even if Vin does keep disappearing to go and see Martin and the stupid boat. Lulu’s been keeping out of Mum’s way by spending time with me in the shop. I didn’t know she was such a computer genius, but she’s moved all the photographs around, and changed the colors and the fonts on the website, and it looks much better. She’s knitting Vin a sweater too, because he loved the last one she made for him, and wore it nearly every day until he got paint stripper on it, helping his friend who’s into old cars. So one way or another we’ve all managed to survive Mum wanting to be the center of attention, although we’re definitely feeling the strain.
“I don’t know how your father puts up with her. Reg says he must have the patience of a saint. Still, at least our Pearl seems to like her.”
We both smile.
For some reason best known to herself, Pearl has decided Mum is hilarious. It might be her fondness for Bright Colors, or her insistence on being called Mariella. Mary is far too boring apparently, and calling her Gran is completely out of the question. The boys call her Mariella automatically now, but since Pearl can’t quite manage this, she’s shortened it to Ella, which by happy coincidence is also the name of one of her favorite bedtime books, about a naughty elephant. So that’s been an unexpected treat.
“Josephine, is that tea ready?”
“Nearly, Mum, sorry.”
“If you leave it too long to infuse, it’s undrinkable.”
“Okay Mum.”
“And call Vincent on his mobile and tell him to hurry up, would you? I’ve hardly seen him.”
“The signal isn’t that great at the harbor, Mum, but I’ll try.”
“Why on earth did you paint the kitchen this horrible yellow color?”
“It’s primrose, Mum, and I like it.”
“Did you make those curtains?”
“Yes. On Gran’s sewing machine.”
“You should have gone for blinds, darling, gingham is so old-fashioned. Blinds are so much more stylish.”
“And expensive.”
“Yes, but surely you must be earning money now from that silly shop, with your television appearance and everything. I still don’t know why you wore that skirt, such a flat color, but then I am very sensitive to that kind of thing. I suppose most people wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Nobody else has mentioned it, no. Here’s your tea, Mum. Lunch will be a couple of hours. Why don’t you go and read the papers?”
“Don’t make too much, I may not be able to eat anything, darling, I can feel one of my heads starting. And could you keep the baby out of the living room, please, she keeps interrupting me and I’ve no idea what she wants.”
Gran puts her potato peeler down. “For heaven’s sake, she just wants to play.”
“Yes, but I’m not feeling well.”
“Well, go and sit down then. Can’t be doing your headache any good standing here moaning, can it? Unless you’d like to do the carrots, take your mind off it?”
Vin makes it back for lunch with about fifteen minutes to spare.
“Thanks, Vin, I don’t know how we’d have managed without all your help.”
He kisses me on the cheek. “Sorry, we got a bit carried away. That boat’s going to be beautiful, you know; that stupid dog is a bloody liability, though, in and out of the water all the time, getting everything soaking. Oh, and I got some champagne, for a treat. I’ll put it in the fridge; we can have it with Gran’s trifle.”
Vin’s been lobbying for Gran to make one of her sherry trifles ever since he got here; it’s his top pudding, and she’s made a nonsherry one too, for the kids.
“Is there anything needs doing?”
“No Gran, I think we’re fine. Lulu’s set the table and Vin’s going to help me dish up. Just go and sit down, thanks; not you, Vin, I meant Gran. Here, take the lamb through while I do the gravy.”
“Are there Yorkshires?”
“Yes.”
He kisses me again.
“Mum, do I have to eat all my carrots?”
“Yes Jack, you’ve only got three little pieces, and anyway you like carrots.”
“Not today I don’t.”
“Well maybe you won’t like trifle today either.”
He picks up his fork.
“I do.”
“I know, Archie.”
“I like trifle, and I like lamb, and the minty sauce, but I don’t like the green stuff, so I’m not eating it. A
nd you can’t make me, because you’re not in charge of the trifle, Gran made it, and she won’t make me eat horrible green stuff.”
Jack puts his fork back down.
“It’s cabbage, Archie, and you haven’t got very much. You like cabbage, and Jack likes carrots, so let’s not have any more fussing.”
Gran smiles at him. “You better do what your mum says, Archie. It doesn’t matter who made what, your mum is still the boss.”
He tuts, and Jack picks up his fork again.
Excellent.
“That was lovely, pet, that’s one of the things I’m looking forward to on our cruise, all the lovely food. Betty’s excited about it too. Makes a change from cooking every day.”
The chance to be on holiday would be a fine thing.
“How come it’s just the three of you going, Gran? I keep meaning to ask you, weren’t you going to ask that man from the Lifeboats, the one who sent her that Valentine?”
“Ted Mallow? Yes, we were, but she says she’d rather wait and see who turns up on the boat. She says she can see him any time, and she quite fancies the idea of a nice young sailor. She’s terrible, she really is. But to be fair, we’re not sure if the card was from Ted, that’s the thing. And Reg won’t ask him.”
“I can’t, Mary; it’s just not the sort of thing men talk about.”
Vin nods. “That’s true, Gran. Be handy, though, having someone familiar with lifeboats.”
Lulu hits him on the arm.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, you’ll be fine, they’re great big huge things, there’s no way you can get into trouble on one of those in the Med. How long are you in Venice, Gran?”
“A day, and your father’s going to take us to a fancy restaurant, so that’ll be another treat.”
Mum sighs. She’d been talking about taking them on a tour of all her favorite restoration projects, until Dad stepped in and said they wouldn’t have time to be dragged all round Venice in and out of buildings covered in scaffolding, and he’d book lunch somewhere nice where they can all relax instead.
“Jack, help Uncle Vin with the plates, love, and you too, Archie. Take them into the kitchen one at a time.”
Vin stands up, and so does Lulu. “Shall I bring the trifles in, Mary?”
Gran gives Lulu a very fond look, which seems to irritate Mum.
“Yes please, pet, the bowls are all ready, on the side.”
Mum takes another sip of her wine. She made a fuss about it being too rough for her palate, but she seems to be drinking it quite happily now.
“I’m not sure I can manage dessert, your trifle is far too rich for me.”
“Well, sit there quietly and don’t spoil it for the rest of us then.”
Gran’s definitely getting to the end of her tether.
I think it might be time to give Mum an opening into her favorite subject.
“I know you said you’ve got lots of work on at the minute, Mum, what will you be working on when you get back?”
She starts telling us all about some plaster panels in a church, and how hard it is to mix the perfect colors, and we all listen politely; we’ve had quite a few History of Art lectures over the past few days, so none of us are paying terribly close attention apart from Pearl, who’s joining in, waving her arms and giving Mum adoring looks.
Dad winks at me. “I think she’s going to miss your mother.”
This is a bit risky, but luckily Mum just ignores him and tells Reg all about her special brushes.
“Ella. More.”
Not for much longer, thank God.
Lulu brings in clean glasses and the bottle of champagne, and the boys do their best impression of a fanfare of trumpets as Vin carries the trifles in on a tray.
“Before we start— Be quiet for a minute, Mum, I want you to hear this. Before we start, I have an announcement. Have you got that open yet?”
Lulu nods and smiles.
“Well, pour it out, woman, chop chop.”
She pokes her tongue out at him.
“Same to you. Now, where was I? Oh yes, well, apart from thanking my clever little sister, for such a great lunch, and for taking such good care of us this week, I just wanted to say that I’ve finally come to my senses, and she’s taken pity on me and said yes. So here’s to Lulu, poor girl, my future wife.”
He’s gone pink, and so has Lulu.
“Oh Vin, how lovely.”
I’m hugging him, while Gran gives Lulu a kiss, and Reg pours the champagne. Dad kisses Lulu on her hand, which is sweet. Mum’s smiling, even if it is a careful sort of smile.
“Can we have champagne too, Uncle Vin?”
“You haven’t got a glass, Arch.”
They both drain their juice glasses and hold them up.
“A tiny sip, Vin, okay?”
He pours them both a mouthful.
“Cheers.”
They raise their glasses, and Pearl waves her beaker.
“Shoes.”
Mum puts her glass down.
“I’ve just had a marvelous idea; you should get married in Venice. I know the perfect church, with the most beautiful ceiling, well, it is now, the priest was so overcome when I finished, so sweet, I’m sure he’d agree, as a favor to me, and—”
“No thanks, Mum.”
“It would mean a great deal to your father and me. I don’t think you should dismiss it quite so quickly, Vincent. And anyway, where else could you possibly want to get married if you have Venezia as an option?”
“Here. We love it here. Or on a beach somewhere, just the two of us, and no fuss, we haven’t decided yet, Mum. But we’ll let you know, as soon as we do. We might have the baby first anyway.”
Baby? Bloody hell, I don’t think I can stand much more excitement.
“What baby?”
Mum’s looking less happy by the minute.
“We’re thinking of going in for a sprog, and by the way, I blame you for that, Jo, seeing you and the boys and our gorgeous girl here, so I thought I should do the honorable with all my worldly goods routine. So it’s all your fault actually.”
Gran’s laughing. “I think you’re meant to do it the other way round, pet.”
Mum nods. “Exactly, and a wedding in Venice would be so perfect.”
“No, I meant I think it’s lovely, that they’re going to do it the way they want. Far too much fuss about weddings, if you ask me, it’s only one day. It’s the rest of their lives that matters.”
“I know we’re meant to do the ceremony first, Mum, and I have asked her, I want to make that clear, but she’s cool about it, aren’t you, light of my life?”
Lulu smiles at him, a very sweet, calm smile, like she knows she can trust him, totally, and nods. “I don’t want to get all obsessed about weddings. I’ve seen some of my girlfriends do that. They’re totally normal, and then they get engaged and go sort of insane. It’s totally bizarre. We’ll know when the time is right. There’s no rush, it’s just a piece of paper, but I think we’re ready for a baby, whenever it happens, I really do.”
Gran pats her arm.
“And Jo?”
“Yes Vin?”
“We’re counting on you, okay? We thought we’d drop the sproglet off with you. Have a few weeks off. Will that work?”
“Sure, and then when you come back we can do a swap, it’ll be like a three-for-one deal.”
He raises his glass. “I’ll drink to that. To the newest member of the clan. Four can’t be that tricky, surely?”
Gran laughs. “Reg, take some pictures. We should have some for the album on an important day like this.”
“Hang on, Reg; I’ll get my camera too.”
I used to take loads of photos when the boys were little. I’ve got hundreds of Jack, and quite a few of Archie, but I haven’t taken nearly so many of Pearl, and she’s growing up so fast.
“Dad, can you wipe Pearl’s face for me?”
“Of course I can. She liked that trifle, didn’t she? Reminds me of
you when you were little, you could never get between you and a pudding.”
The boys giggle.
“You still can’t.”
“Thanks, Vin.”
I’m in the kitchen making coffee when Jack comes in, carrying his bowl.
“Well done, love.”
“Can we look at our photographs later, Mum?”
“I’ll need to get them printed first.”
“No, not the ones from today, our old ones, with Dad in.”
Oh God. Here we go again. He looks worried.
“Of course we can, darling. We can watch the films too if you like, of you both in the sea, remember, when you were little and just learning to swim?”
I’m not in many of the photographs, or the films. I was always the one behind the camera, which feels right somehow. In lots of ways it feels like it was someone else’s life, and I was just taking the pictures.
“And the Christmas ones, when Archie got in that big box and he wouldn’t get out.”
He smiles, and nods. “And the one with us in bed and Dad’s reading us a story.”
“Yes.”
“When the little bear can’t sleep and the big bear has to keep getting him lights and he’s jumping on the bed.”
“Yes love, we can watch them tonight if you like.”
“He was the best dad in the whole wide world, wasn’t he, Mum?”
“Yes love.”
I give him a hug, and I can feel him relax.
“Can I do my Lego now, Mum?”
“In your room, but not downstairs or Pearl will get it, and you know how cross you get.”
They’re pretty good with Pearl crashing into their games, particularly Jack, but they both draw the line at her “helping” with their Lego models.
“And can I have a biscuit first?”
“No love, it’ll be teatime soon. Nice try though.”
He grins and wanders off upstairs.
I hate this; I don’t want him having to worry that he can’t remember what his dad looks like. It’s still so shocking, the complete and total end of someone who’s running out of the sea with a small blond boy on his shoulders; it can still make me feel dizzy, for a second or two, when I least expect it.
