by C F Dunn
Matthew laughed. Mum looked aghast. “Oh dear, that really isn’t appropriate, darling.”
“Beats Bambi any day,” Beth mused.
“Bambi gave me nightmares,” I agreed, before we couldn’t keep it up any longer and burst into snorts of laughter at the look on our parents’ faces. We hadn’t played that trick for a long while, and the previous few days had been spent with our emotions reined in so tight that the least provocation had it bursting from us in laughter or in tears.
“Girls, really,” Rob admonished, coming to join us and adopting a broad Scottish brogue for the scolding. “A little decorum, if you please. Matthew, keep your woman under control; she’s leading mine astray.”
“I wish that were possible,” Matthew retorted. Beth and I hooted with laughter and Rob grinned until Beth took pity on our parents, whose expressions of opprobrium were almost Victorian.
“Don’t worry, they’ve decided on Babe – again – and that’s nothing to do with teenage sex, Dad, in case you were wondering. Anyway, the kids’ll be down to say goodnight when they’ve done their teeth. I’d better take Arch his bunny or we won’t hear the end of it. Want any help, love?” she asked, as Rob left for the relative sanity of the kitchen.
Rapid light feet flurried down the stairs and the twins bundled into the room smelling of bubble bath and toothpaste. “We’ve come to say night-night,” Flora announced grandly, looking all pink and fluffy in her dressing-gown. “Night, Granny, nighty-night, Grandpa.” She flung her arms around her grandfather and he gave her an affectionate hug.
“Goodnight, Bubble, sweet dreams.”
I felt a sudden flush of envy at their easy relationship. I had been lucky to get a grunt from him when Flora’s age. I saw Alex watch them, his finger in his mouth, and I knew with a stab that he felt it too. Quiet and reserved, he needed a patient touch and insight to draw him out, and Dad had neither. In a flash it was forgotten as they launched themselves at us.
“Hey, kids!” Matthew laughed, catching Flora before her knee landed in my stomach, and swinging her to one side. “I think this Clone gun is yours, Alex,” he said pulling something angular from where it embedded in my thigh.
Alex took the piece of Lego from his outstretched hand. “Thanks! That’s really cool. I’ve been looking for that for ages! Will you play Clone Wars with me?”
Rob came back in, his dark hair sticking to his forehead from the steamy kitchen. “Bed, you two.”
“But we want to stay for dinner!” they wailed in unison.
“This is grown-up food. Bed!”
“‘That’s cool?’” I said to Matthew as footsteps thundered up the stairs. “You’re a dreadful influence, Matthew Lynes, and how on earth do you know what a Clone gun looks like anyway? I thought that plastic thing was a miniature sink-plunger from a Dalek – or possibly Barbie’s into DIY now, or something.”
“It pays to keep up with the times,” he said lightly.
“Not in my line of work,” I shot back.
Dad interrogated his plate. “This looks interesting, Rob. What is it?”
Rob picked up the now empty serving dish to make more room on the crowded table. “Boar in a port wine and cranberry jus.”
“We’re compiling a file of new recipes,” Beth explained, “so we want to try them out on family before we poison our customers.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, wondering how I could manage my sister’s generous helpings. I pinched a baby broad bean the colour of my jade beads, ignoring Mum’s reproving glance. “What customers? I thought you only have planning permission for a coffee bar.”
“We have,” Rob said, passing around a dish of aromatic creamed parsnip scattered with nutmeg and parsley. “But one day, God willing…”
“… we want to open a restaurant,” Beth finished for him.
“And I bet you didn’t see my lips move, did you?” He threw a look at his wife.
She blushed a bit. “Well, we do.”
“Since when have you wanted a restaurant?”
“Since about six years ago, Em, but you were never around to tell and you never asked,” my sister said a touch tartly. It was my turn to redden.
“What sort of thing are you aiming for?” Matthew asked.
They set to discussing covers and profits while I concentrated on the food and kept my head down.
“We’ve worked out the suppliers, turnover required, profit-and-loss forecasts – the works, but, well, you know – the banks have been a bit chary about lending recently.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Tell them, Rob, for goodness sake; they’re family.”
He sat back, puffing his cheeks like a skinny lizard. “The banks won’t lend without five years’ worth of books, and the last three have to have turned a profit. We spent a heck of a lot on the initial refurb costs, which we’ve only covered recently. We don’t have enough equity to form a decent enough deposit, and the housing market’s taken a tumble so we’re not likely to recoup what we’ve already sunk in the café. Business is good, but, for the time being, we’re stuck.”
I helped distribute tall glasses filled with layers of foamy chocolate and a velvety dark sauce. My mouth watered.
“Now these,” he said as we placed them down, “we concocted in your honour, Emma – complicated, tricky, and need careful handling, but well worth the effort, hey, Matthew?” He raised a glass in token salute, interposing a smile and saving himself my retort. “They need to be eaten quickly, though, because the layers collapse as they warm.”
Dad held his glass to the light. “Ingenious” – he sniffed the contents – “smells good too.”
“Nanna would have loved it, Beth. She always enjoyed your cooking.”
“I think Nanna would have found this a bit strong, Mum – it packs quite a punch. It’s not one for the kids.” A thump shook the floorboards above our heads. “Talking of whom…” she groaned.
Matthew stood up. “I have to head that way. Can I put this in the fridge?”
“Surely,” Rob said. “Do you know where it is?”
“So where did you two go today?” Beth asked, plomping down in Matthew’s chair between Mum and me, and pulling her glass in front of her.
“Towards Oakham. I wanted to show Matthew some of the area.” My spoon sank into the chocolate and small bubbles burst with little pops, releasing a heady aroma. “I always forget how pretty it all is around there with the spring flowers and wildlife.”
“We nearly had venison for dinner.” Matthew slipped into Beth’s place. “All’s well; it was Alex’s head.”
“Oh…!” Beth started to get up.
“But he’s fine,” Matthew assured her, “and so’s the wall.”
“Venison?” Dad pursued, much to my annoyance.
“Matthew, you promised not to say,” I said, as he ignored the ferocious looks I gave him.
“A fine roe hind. I should say we came this close,” he held up his hands with a sliver of a gap between them, “to an insurance claim and enough meat for a year.”
“Darling, this is quite delicious. I can’t make out that flavour; what’s in it?”
“It’s quite simple, really, Mum,” Beth explained, “but you have to use the finest grade chocolate…”
“That’s a gross exaggeration, Matthew. We were nowhere near that close; we missed her by at least… that much.” And I widened the span generously.
“… egg whites and double cream…”
I lifted a spoonful of chocolate, savouring the anticipation. “Do you like venison, Emma?” Rob asked before I could get a mouthful.
“She certainly did this morning,” Matthew chuckled. I sighed and lifted the spoon at last to my mouth.
“… and then there’s the secret ingredient…” Beth was saying, leaning across the table to top up Dad’s glass. “You add an extra, extra strong cup of espres…”
“Emma! Don’t touch it!” Matthew yelled, lashing out across the table and knocking the spoon and glass away from
me. The glass soared into the air, spraying the dark morass across the table and shattering against the wall. Chocolate oozed like blood. Everyone stared at the wall, then at Matthew, and finally at me.
Beth gulped. “Strewth!”
“R-ight,” Rob stated, but Matthew had his hands around my face, wiping my mouth with his thumb.
“Did you eat any… Emma, did you eat any?”
I pushed his hand away, not sure whether to laugh or be cross. “No, you didn’t give me the chance.”
Relief swept over his face, and he dropped his hands, but Dad, grey and sweating, stood shakily. “I didn’t think there was any coffee in it. Are you all right, Em?”
“I’m fine; don’t fuss, please. Beth, Rob, I’m so sorry – it looked delicious. I’ll get a mop.” I started to rise but Matthew pinned me to my chair.
“No, you won’t; you’ll stay away from it until I’ve cleared it up. I don’t want any getting on your skin.”
Mum had gone very pale. She hadn’t said a word, but now, slowly, she rose to her feet. “What, may I ask, was that all about?” This was usually the point at which, as children, Beth and I made ourselves scarce as we sensed the calm before the storm. Her voice trembled. “Why is Emma fine? Why shouldn’t she be fine?”
I could attempt a lie, but Mum could sniff out a falsehood quicker than I could chocolate, even if all I wanted to do was protect her. I realigned a stray knife without looking at her. “I’m a bit allergic to coffee, Mum, or… or something in coffee.”
Her voice became steely. “Define ‘a bit’ for me, Emma.”
I hawed. “Well, a bit more than a bit, I suppose – quite a lot really.”
“Emma!” she barked.
“It can kill her if she ingests it,” Matthew said calmly. I stared at the tablecloth and waited for the reaction.
Beth gaped. “Golly Moses, Em, you should have said.”
Mum levelled a look at me that could cut ice. “And how long have you known this?”
I peeked at her. “Since the trial. I was unwell during the trial.”
“How unwell?”
“Uh…”
“She nearly died,” Matthew said, really choosing his moment for complete honesty. I frowned at him, and then at the dark stain making glacial progress down the wall.
Dad adopted his best military stance intended to show he had everything in hand. “Now, Penny, she’s fine. There is really nothing at all to worry about, it’s all under control.”
She rounded on him, her lips drawn back over her teeth, anger like a whip. “You knew? And you didn’t tell me? How could you, Hugh? And you, Emma, I thought I could at least trust you to tell me the truth. I have just buried my mother and now I find out that I nearly lost my daughter as well.”
Dad twitched, I cringed, and Beth cowered. Rob made a quick exit to the kitchen with the remains of the desserts. He returned with dustpan and brush. Guilt-ridden, I took them from him, but Matthew promptly removed them, and I went and sat down in the corner, feeling useless and stupid in equal measure. Normally so even-tempered, there were times when Mum could keep her rage simmering for hours, and this looked like one of them. She was still blazing when she turned on me. “What else haven’t you told me, Emma? What else are you keeping from me?”
I flinched as, from the corner of my eye, a shard of glass sliced Matthew’s finger, his skin instantly healing before the blood seeped through. I looked up at her and wondered what – if ever she were to find out – her reaction would be if she knew what deeper secrets we guarded.
CHAPTER
12
Entente Cordiale
Mum had been decidedly frosty over breakfast the next morning, so when she said she wanted to talk to me after lunch, I thought I might be in for an ear-bashing at the very least. Dad retreated to his potting shed to tend his tomato seedlings, so I knew something must be up.
Drizzle misted the windows of her bedroom and we huddled around the electric fire glowing in the redundant hearth. “Darling,” she began, looking fearfully earnest and proper with her hands clasped in her lap, “Matthew’s been very sweet and he says his parents would like to help pay for the wedding.” So far so good, but she could be lulling me into a false sense of security. I smiled. “I know they are well-off, but there is the matter of family honour. However, apparently they will be offended if your father refuses.” I nodded heartily. “So he’s pleased to accept. Now, you and I have one or two things to sort out ourselves.” Gosh, she looks like Nanna when in one of her forthright moods. “Darling,” she said again, “I have something I want to say.” Here we go, brace yourself…
“I found it difficult at first to accept you wouldn’t be returning home, and most disappointing when you told us you were getting married in America, and you and your father both know my feelings about being kept in the dark about your… mishap… last month. I trust that it is now all in the past and we have so much to look forward to without any other surprises.”
I nodded solemnly.
“Good.” Her face softened and she allowed a smile to creep through. “I don’t know whether you remember the veil.” The veil. How could I forget? “Beth chose to wear a short veil when she married, which was her choice of course, although I don’t know why.” I did; she had said the long lace veil swamped her, making her feel dumpified. It had been the source of one or two chilly moments between them. “Now, I don’t know whether you have thought about your veil yet, but…” she slid a large, flat box from next to her chair where she must have kept it in waiting, “both Nanna and I wore it, and it’s for you and Flora – and any daughter you might have in the future – to wear it if you would like.” From the box she lifted lengths and lengths of gossamer cream net, a delicate border of lace scalloped around the edge. “It’s very old of course, and very long, and I don’t know whether it will go with your dress, but…”
“It’s lovely, Mum; it’s perfect. I’d love to wear it.”
“Oh,” she dimpled, a rare sign of delight, “I’m so pleased. I don’t know whether you realize, but Nanna had all her marbles right up to the day she died. I told her you were getting married and she remembered Matthew. I think it made her passing that much easier knowing how happy you are.” She pulled her hanky from her sleeve and dabbed her nose. “Nanna knew how close you were to Grandpa, my darling, and she wanted you to have this.” In the palm of her hand she held a single, heavy band of gold, distinguished by a narrow rib of platinum running flush around the centre; I recognized it at once.
“Grandpa’s wedding ring.” I took it. “Thank you.” I enclosed it tightly within my fist.
“I think Matthew reminded her of Grandpa. Oh, and before I forget,” she said, jumping to her feet, “I meant to give you this.” She fished under her bed and came out with a small, brown leather suitcase little bigger than a flight bag. It had seen better days: the chrome fittings were tarnished and the corners were knocked and scuffed. “I had quite forgotten Nanna wanted you to have Grandpa’s case when she died. I’ve no idea what’s in it – some of his old diaries I expect.”
It was one of those objects that had always been there, sitting on the floor by Grandpa’s desk gradually gathering dust, and I never thought to ask what he kept in it. My hand hovered near the clasp, but Mum made busy noises. “There now, it’s time for tea and then I suppose you’ll be off,” she said, a little too brightly for it to be genuine.
Several hours later as the plane nosed through the blanket of cloud, I let go of Matthew’s hand and retrieved the case from the overhead locker.
“The case your grandmother referred to?” he asked, as I settled into my seat with it on my knees. I rested my hand on the cracked surface and stared out into the reddening sky.
“Yes,” I said, fingering the tarnished metal initials D. A. C. “This was Grandpa’s for as long as I can remember.” But although I longed to see what had been so specifically willed to me, part of me wanted to let it lie unopened and its contents undisclosed, as i
f knowing what it contained would break its spell.
CHAPTER
13
Party Beast
I double-checked the reference number Hannah had used; it didn’t tally. “I’m trying to work, Elena.”
She thrust the list under my nose. “This cannot wait; we have to send the invitations by the end of the week.”
“Yes, and I have to get this done in time for the conference.”
The piece of paper hovered menacingly. “Emma, if you do not look at this list, I will invite everyone to the party.”
I sighed and put my pen down and took the list, resigned to the fact that, until I did, she would bug me without mercy. “Well, definitely Siggie Gerhard and Saul Abrahms – we’ve been trying to meet up for ages.” I gave the list back to her and picked up my pen. The paper reappeared in front of me.
“More,” she demanded. “Matias and Matthew need to know how much food to order.”
“Bothersome wench,” I said, running a finger down the list. It was all very well, but between one thing and another, I hadn’t managed to meet many people on campus and, of those I had, there were some I didn’t particularly wish to see again. “You can forget about inviting Madge for a start – I swear she’s first cousin to a spitting cobra, she’s so venomous. I don’t know him… or her… Megan! Whose idea was it to invite Megan?”
“Matias said she is one of the principal researchers on the project, and as part of the team she should be invited.”
“Yes, but have you ever met Megan, Elena?”
She put her finger to her lips, thinking. “No,” she said at last.
I believed it my duty to enlighten her. “About twenty-five, lots of shiny blonde hair, big baby-blue eyes, skin of an angel, and long, long legs Megan?”
She didn’t require any time to think about that. “Nyet!” She grabbed the pen from my hand and slashed an angry line through her name and handed it back to me.
“OK, let’s look at the rest. Sung is a must, so’s Dawson… good grief! What’s Sam doing on this list? And don’t play the innocent with me, Elena Smalova – I know a setup when I see one.” I crossed his name off and scribbled it out with a thick, black line just to be on the safe side.
