Knit One Pearl One (21 page)

“That’s so sweet of you, Annabel, really, I’m very touched, but I don’t think I could do anything like that. People would think I was getting above myself. It was only one little television interview after all, I’m sure nobody would want to have lunch with me.”

“I didn’t mean, well, I was rather hoping . . .”

She glares at Connie, who is trying not to laugh, and Mrs. Nelson coughs nervously before she rallies.

“I think Mrs. Morgan was thinking of Grace Harrison, although of course I’m sure people would, it’s just, or perhaps Ellen Malone, she’s a friend of yours, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she’s Archie’s godmother.”

Annabel stiffens. She’s not keen on any of my children, but if she had to pick the most annoying one, she’d definitely choose Archie. To be fair, I think we all would.

“I could ask her, I suppose.”

Mrs. Nelson nods encouragingly.

“But I have to say I think it’s a nonstarter. Definitely for Grace. I happen to know her diary is completely full. And as for Ellen, well, I know she doesn’t do things like that, she gets so many requests, I’m sure you understand. No, I think I should probably say no, there’s no point in wasting everybody’s time, is there? Look, Connie, the kids are coming out, and Nelly’s got a Gold Sticker, she must have done one of her lovely paintings, they had art this afternoon, didn’t they? Unless Archie has just painted his face green for fun.”

Archie is swinging his lunch box around above his head, with a large splodge of green paint on his chin.

“Hello darling, did you have a lovely day?”

“Yes, we had a spelling test and I came top. Of the whole class. It was great.”

He glances at Annabel and gives her one of his Best Smiles. Oh dear.

“Harry did good too, just not as good as me or Nelly. But we’re in the top group, on the acorn table. Harry’s only a walnut. Acorn is top for spelling. What’s for tea, Mum? I’m starving.”

I think we better beat a hasty retreat, before she demands a recount on the spelling test. Or implodes, and we all get to learn some new words.

Connie and I are laughing so much on the walk home she has to sit down in the park so she can get her breath back.

“Her face, it was so. So.”

“Gobsmacked.”

“Yes. And it is serving her right, horrible woman.”

“Who’s horrible, Mum?”

“Nobody, love, and Archie, did you really come top in spelling?”

“Yes.”

“That’s very good, love.”

“Well, I did have the spellings in my book; I just forgot to turn the page over.”

“Archie, that’s terrible. That’s cheating.”

“No it’s not, I know them. Go on, test me, I bet I know them.”

“I will, later, and you better know them, Archie, or we’ll have to talk to Mrs. Berry.”

“I already told her, and she said I was very good for being truthful, and because I’m so good at spelling, this time she’ll make a reception.”

“Exception.”

“Yes, so it’s fine.”

“It is not fine. And you must never do it again, Archie.”

“All right, keep your hair on.”

“And don’t say that either.”

“Why not? It’s not swearing, it’s not like saying—”

“Archie, that’s enough, thank you. Pick your bag up, it can’t stay there. We need to get home, Cinzia and Pearl will be waiting. Come back with us for a cup of tea, Con. You can try out that chair, give it a test run.”

Archie ignores his bag and runs off to join the others on the swings.

I pick the bag up, and Connie smiles. “He is so, your Archie. So.”

“I know, Con, thanks. Trust me. I know.”

“He will go far.”

“I’m sure he will, but I pity the person who has to run along behind him picking all his things up.”

Cinzia is nattering away in Italian to Connie while I make the tea. Tom’s Plan B seems to be slowly having an effect. Connie says she went out with the new French boy, but only for a coffee, and apparently he was too French, so now she’s keen on a German student called Sebastian. It’s like she’s doing her very own version of the Grand Tour, only instead of crates full of paintings and marble statues, she’s collecting admirers. But I think Tom is still the favorite, so maybe he’s on the right track after all. Although she’s due to go home at the end of the year, so it’s not going to be a very long track.

She’s looking particularly gorgeous today, in a short summer frock over pale pink leggings, which on anyone else would make their legs look like uncooked sausages, but on her look rather fetching. And if there’s a chance Tom will be around, her outfits definitely get tighter and skimpier. She caused another stir at baby gymnastics last week, according to Tina. And Mr. Dawes has only just stopped limping.

“Cinzia, do you want tea or juice, love?”

“Juice please, I’ll get some for the kidlings too.”

“Great.”

“Cup.”

Pearl’s joining in with the Italian, waving her hands and having a lovely time, while she plays with the plastic tea set I bought at the weekend at the Brownies’ jumble sale. I can’t wait for her to be a Brownie; Mum wouldn’t let me join. She said the uniform was too depressing.

Once everyone has had a drink, Cinzia takes them outside to stroke Peter Rabbit, while Connie tries out the famous armchair, and promptly falls asleep. She looks so peaceful I close the curtains and the door to the kitchen. I’m trying to get everyone to keep quiet, which is a Mission Completely Bloody Impossible, and then Martin arrives with Trevor the Wonder Dog, and the inevitable football game is launched. Peter’s safely back in his hutch, and miraculously Connie’s still asleep when I check on her, which just goes to show how utterly exhausted she is; nobody but a heavily pregnant, sleep-deprived woman could sleep through the kind of racket the kids and Trevor are making.

“Who wants a picnic for tea?”

Everyone puts their hands up, even Martin.

“Toasted cheese sandwiches?”

I might sneak in some tuna, and a few slices of tomato, just so there’s something vaguely nutritious going on in among all the melted cheese.

“I love picnickers, Mum, they’re my favorite.”

“I know, Archie.”

“Can we have one every day after school?”

“No, we can’t. But today we can, okay?”

“Have we got crisps?”

“I think so.”

“Peter likes crisps.”

“No he doesn’t, and you mustn’t feed him stuff like that. Remember what the vet said when you went with Grandad Reg. He’s a very healthy rabbit, and we want to keep him that way.”

“Yes, but salad is boring and he’s a magic rabbit, so you don’t know what he likes.”

“He likes salad, however magic he is. And don’t be rude, Archie. Being rude isn’t magical at all. But it might make the crisps disappear.”

He tuts.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry.”

He tuts again, when he thinks I can’t hear him.

We’re sitting on the terrace at our rickety old wooden table when Mark arrives. The kids are finishing their yogurts.

“Thanks for giving them their tea, Jo. I’ve brought you the bread, whole meal and some white rolls, is that okay?”

“Perfect. I suddenly realized I’ve got nothing for their packed lunches tomorrow. Thanks, Mark. I’ll drive Con back when she wakes up. Or Martin will.”

“Great, and the baby shower, that’s this Thursday, right?”

“Yes, are you still bringing cake? I think she needs all the treats she can get now, poor thing, this last bit feels like forever.”

“Tell me about it. She went tonto at me last night, just because I said I’d give her a hand to get out of the bath, if she got stuck.”

“That was subtle.”

He laughs. “I know, I thought that, as I was saying it, I thought, You total idiot, shut up, now, but it was too late. She hit me, with one of my big wooden spoons. Quite hard actually.”

“Oh dear.”

“I’m not getting much sympathy here, am I? Is this one of those sisterhood things?”

“Definitely, so you better take the kids home quick, before she wakes up and we both hit you with our wooden spoons.”

Jack wants to play more football, but it’s starting to get chilly.

“Five more minutes and then it’s bath time. And we’ve got to be very quiet, because Aunty Connie is still asleep. Quiet like mice. There’ll be a prize for the quietest person.”

“Because she’s having a baby?”

“Yes, Archie.”

“Is she going to the hospital to get it out, or will she do it in the kitchen, like you did with Pearly?”

“I think the plan is to go to hospital to have the baby, Archie, but you never know. Babies sometimes arrive at home.”

Martin grins and puts his cup down. “Remind me not to go to the pub for the next few weeks; I don’t think I could cope with another home delivery. Not that I coped all that well last time.”

“You called the ambulance.”

“Yes, and gibbered down the phone like a madman.”

Actually, he was great when Pearl was born, pacing up and down the garden in a terrible panic, looking like he’d gone into some sort of proxy shock. It was sort of nice seeing someone else almost as freaked out as I was.

“You were fine. Do you want more tea?”

“Please. I’d forgotten how much I love picnics, well, the way you do them. Mum always used to make such a fuss, with Tupperware boxes for everything; I’m surprised she didn’t have some sort of box to pop me into for a quick wash before she got the sandwiches out. We never went anywhere without a damp flannel in her bag. But you don’t fuss about stuff like that, do you? They can get as grubby as they like.”

“Thanks, Martin, that makes me sound like a very strong contender for Hopeless Mother of the Year.”

“I like it, it’s relaxing. I put those new photographs up by the way, on the website. Are the new windows finished?”

“Nearly. I’ve got some pictures on the camera, only Laura’s got it at the moment, for her college work. I’ll e-mail them to you, shall I?”

“Sure. See, once you get into the habit, it’s easy to keep updating the site.”

“Yes, as long as someone else does it for you. I did try, you know, but it went into a weird shape.”

“I’ll fix that, it’s just the format. To be honest, you could do with a total redesign.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Trevor bounds over and licks Martin’s hands.

“That’s not very hygienic, you know, talk about people getting grubby. Just think what your mother would say.”

Jack giggles, and Martin winks at him.

“Well, we better not tell her how he wakes me up in the mornings then, jumping on the bed. Better than any alarm clock.”

“You shouldn’t let him do that. It might give someone a nasty surprise.”

“Someone? I can’t think who.”

“Yes, thank you, not in front of Mummy’s little helpers, if you don’t mind. Dogs jumping on beds is not a good thing, okay? Or rabbits. Who like living outside.”

“Fair enough. But everyone loves Trevor, don’t they, boys?”

“Yes. But I love Peter most, because he’s my magic rabbit, all of my very own. And he
is
magic; he can push his bowl right out the door now. And I’m going to teach him how to jump through hoops. And then I can set fire to them.”

Oh God. Poor Peter. Just when you think you’ve got one thing sorted in the wonderful world of Pets, something else comes along.

“Mum, can I wake Uncle Vin up yet?”

“No Archie, they didn’t get here until really late last night. He’ll be awake when you get home from school though, love.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Today’s Thursday, Mum, isn’t it? We’ve got our special assembly.”

“Yes Jack.”

Archie’s not impressed. “I hate stupid assemblies.”

“Well, I don’t, I’m reading a poem.”

“Are you, Jack? You never said.”

“Well, I am, my whole group are doing it. I say ‘And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, they danced by the light of the moon.’ And then we all say ‘the moon,’ twice. And then the whole class says ‘They danced by the light of the moon.’ We’ve done pictures too. I did a moon, and a green boat. I didn’t do the cat or the owl, because I don’t like drawing animals.”

“Well, it sounds lovely, Jack, and you said it very well. We’ve got ‘The Owl and the Pussycat’ in one of your books I think.”

He gives me a rather pitying look. “I know, Mum, it’s a very famous poem.”

“Well, it’s very nice.”

“What’s nice?”

Both Archie and Jack launch themselves at Vin.

“Steady on, chaps, give me a chance. Any coffee going spare, Jo?”

“Sure. Does Lulu want one?”

“No, she’s still in the Land of Nod. That girl can sleep through anything.”

“Uncle Vin, I’ve got a rabbit, come and see, he’s called Peter.”

Vin gives me a look.

“Yes. Peter Rabbit. We like it. We’re getting a Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle next, okay?”

“All right, calm down. Who rattled your cage?”

The boys giggle. You can always count on their uncle Vin to say unsuitable things to their mother; it’s one of his many attractions.

“Up. Up.”

Pearl has decided she wants to join in the action, now she’s taken a long, hard look at Vin, who she’s only actually seen once when she was tiny.

“All right love, come and say hello.”

“Shoes.”

“I know, he hasn’t got his shoes on, has he. Naughty Uncle Vin. We’ll have to get him some slippers.”

“You will not.”

“We might. Like the ones you had when you were little. What were they, Batman or Superman?”

“Shut up.”

“Up.”

“Don’t encourage her, Vin. Do you want toast?”

“Please. So does Mum know you were on the telly yet?”

“No. I thought if I said anything, she’d come over and insist on a starring role.”

“Well Gran will soon take care of that. Honestly, we could hardly get a word in last night.”

“I bet. Look, are you sure you’re okay to collect Mum and Dad from Gatwick? Gran and Reg will do it, you know. They quite liked coming to pick you up, they got really excited about it. It’ll just take a couple of hours longer.”

“A couple of hours? Even the caravans were overtaking us. No, as long as I can drive your car, I’d rather do it myself; that car Reg drives would probably blow up if you tried to get it over fifty. We’ll never hear the end of it from Mum if she has a slow journey in from the airport; you know what she’s like. Gran was very chirpy though; she was telling us they’re off on another cruise?”