Knit One Pearl One (22 page)

“Yes, next month, for a late wedding anniversary.”

“Well, we might as well alert the traffic police now, so they know when he’ll be back on the M25 causing havoc.”

“He’s not that bad, Vin.”

“He is, and I want butter on my toast, nothing else thanks.”

Great, it looks like I’ve got one more guest for my bed-and-breakfast operation. How marvelous.

“You can have what you like. The butter dish is on the table, and the knives are in the drawer.”

“You won’t get a tip.”

“No, but you will. Don’t mess with a woman trying to make breakfast for three kids on a school morning.”

“I’ll give you a Chinese burn in a minute.”

“You will not.”

“What’s a Chinese burn?”

“Vin, don’t you dare, or you’ll be sleeping in the garden. He’s joking, Archie. Go and find your shoes, love.”

He tuts; in fact they all do, even Pearl.

Excellent.

I’m tidying up the workroom for our Stitch and Bitch baby shower for Connie when Cath arrives with a beautiful parcel wrapped in silver tissue paper, followed by Maggie, who’s carrying a Tupperware box.

“I’ve made some sausage rolls, nothing like Mark’s standard, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?”

“Thanks, Maggie, I’m sure they’ll be lovely.”

“Oh look, doesn’t the Moses basket look beautiful. Is that the one you had for Pearl?”

“Yes, the one you gave me at my baby shower, so I thought I’d return the favor. I bought a new mattress, and Gran bought the sheets, and look, I’ve sewn up our blanket. It looks great, doesn’t it? She’s going to love it.”

I hold up the blanket, with the pale cream brushed cotton sheet with little ducks on, and everyone strokes it, including Tina and Linda, who put their presents on the growing pile on the table.

“Makes you want to have another one, doesn’t it?”

“Not really, no.”

Tina laughs. “What’s she done now?”

“Who? My Lauren? Nothing, apart from driving me demented; if she tells me one more time to get a life, I think I’ll clock her one. I wouldn’t mind, but if she’d settle down I could get a bloody life instead of worrying myself sick about what she’s up to, out there with her skirts so short she might as well not bother wearing them.”

“She does look nice though, Lind.”

“I know, Tina, that’s what I’m worrying about. You’ve got all that to come with Pearl, you know, Jo.”

“She already has views on what she’ll wear. If I try to dress her in the mornings in anything she doesn’t fancy, she just goes all stiff so I can’t move her arms. She’s so stubborn. That doesn’t bode well, does it?”

Cath smiles. “Well at least she won’t be a doormat, Jo, and that’s got to be good. The only problem is the first person she’ll stand up to is you. Olivia is just the same. I know you think she’s lovely, and butter wouldn’t melt when she’s in the shop with you, but honestly, she says the most crushing things sometimes. She told me I had to walk behind her when we went to the supermarket last week, because my coat was too embarrassing.”

“Archie and Jack already do that, all the time. They’re trying to get me banned from the walking bus because they think my tabard is too tragic. Mind you, I agree with them on that one.”

“Girls are much better at it, trust me. My Lauren’s an expert. Last night she said if she thought she’d end up looking like me, she’d throw herself off a cliff. Just because I asked her to take her bag upstairs.”

“Christ. There’s so much to look forward to in the wonderful world of mothers and daughters, isn’t there?”

We’re arranging the presents on the table when Angela arrives. Mark’s bringing Connie in about ten minutes, and so far I don’t think she’s guessed. I can’t wait to see her face.

“Is Mark doing one of his cakes?”

“Yes, her favorite, chestnut meringue, with caramel and cream in layers, I’ve been thinking about it all day. Did you finish your shawl, Angela?”

“Yes, it’s the same one I knitted for Stanley, and for Iris, so I’ve got a sense of the pattern now. I find them quite relaxing to knit.”

We all admire the intricate pattern, and Angela goes pink. She’s been spending a fair bit of time with Penny and Sally and her new granddaughter, and Stanley’s apparently delighted with his new sister.

“He’s so gentle with her; it’s lovely to watch him. He supports her head so carefully. He’s such a sweet boy.”

I can’t help smiling. “Just wait until she touches his Lego, that’s all I’m saying.”

Cath laughs, and tells us Olivia and Toby once fought so bitterly over a Monopoly game that she threw the board up in the air, and all the cards and the money went everywhere, and neither of them spoke to her for nearly a whole day. She said it was great. I must try it.

“Didn’t you have to pick all the bits up though?”

“Yes, Tina, I did, but it was worth it, just to see the looks on their faces.”

Angela’s showing us her latest photographs when Connie arrives, takes one look at the pile of presents, and bursts into tears.

“Oh, God, Con, it was meant to make you happy.”

“I am. Happy. It is so kind. To have friends.”

I give her a hug, and she calms down and starts opening her presents, and holding tiny cardigans and sleepsuits over her tummy. She’s completely delighted. Mark has stayed too, and gets quite emotional when she hands him the Moses basket to put in the car.

“I’ll be back in an hour, love.”

“Yes.”

He kisses her, and Linda and Tina exchange glances as Linda raises her glass.

“Look at them, picture of love’s young dream. Makes you sick, doesn’t it?”

Mark laughs. “I think that’s my cue to leave, but I hope you like the cake.”

“You know we will. God Connie, you’ve got a good one there, you know, looks half decent and he can cook too. You haven’t got a brother, have you, Mark?”

“Sorry, and I’m definitely leaving now. But thanks, Linda, always nice to be appreciated.”

I’m collecting up wrapping paper.

“Everything is so lovely.”

“Do you want more tea, Connie? Tina?”

Tina’s on a new diet. Not that it’s stopping her having cake.

“Yes please, and I’ve got top gossip. You know that Mrs. Churchill, the one whose husband ran off with the milkman—I’m not kidding, he did, they’ve got a bungalow now, outside Brighton—anyway, she was saying there were rows the other day, in the car park at Waitrose. Annabel Morgan and some woman in one of those great big cars were arguing about a parking space and neither of them would reverse. They had to call the manager in the end. I wish I’d been there, I could have taken a photo on my phone and we could have put it in the next PTA newsletter. Be better than those stupid puzzles she does, which her Harry always seems to win. Mind you, people do get agitated in car parks, don’t they, Lind?”

“I just told her what I thought.”

“I know you did. We all heard you telling her.”

“She was parked in a disabled parking space, and there was nothing the matter with her.”

Angela puts her glass down. “Oh, good for you, Linda. It really annoys me when people do that. What did you say?”

“I just said, I hope you can sleep at night, being so selfish, and if someone in a wheelchair needs that space, what are they meant to do, wait till you’ve done your shopping or what?”

“She did. It was great, actually; the woman went bright red and everything.”

“Well good for you, Linda.”

“I know, I was quite pleased with myself, Ange. Normally you only think of it when you get home, don’t you?”

We all nod, and Maggie puts her knitting down. “We should have badges. Like the white feathers they gave out in the war, although that was horrible, I don’t approve of that at all. But badges we could give to people being selfish would be useful. I could use stacks of them in the library.”

“What, like a badge saying ‘Put That Book Back’?”

She laughs. “No, Cath, more like ‘Stop Being So Rude.’ So when you saw someone behaving badly, you could just go up and give them a badge and walk away.”

“Brilliant idea, Maggie. We could use them in the salon, couldn’t we, Tina?”

“Yes, we bloody could. Especially with that Mrs. Collins. She comes in with pictures cut out of magazines and says, ‘Do it like this,’ but she’s sixty if she’s a day, with a face like a wet weekend, and then she gets all huffy and says I haven’t done it right when she doesn’t end up looking like Jennifer bloody Aniston.”

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?”