Knit One Pearl One (38 page)

He’s silent again. “Good for you, angel.”

“We can be friends, and Pearl’s mum and dad. That’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

“Bloody amazing. You’re the first woman I’ve ever really been able to say that about.”

“I should bloody hope so.”

“No, I mean the friends thing. I’ve never really seen the point before.”

I laugh.

“Men don’t, angel. They say they do, but they don’t really. We don’t want friends, not like women do. We can’t sustain it. Too much talking, not enough, well, not enough not talking. But I don’t want to miss being her dad, racketing around the world. I’ll wake up and she’ll be all grown up.”

“Well don’t then. We’ll be friends and spends years and years watching her grow up, and being there for her, and each other, whatever happens, and I think that’s brilliant, don’t you? There’s just one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Don’t parade a series of gorgeous young things through my kitchen every time you come to see Pearl, okay?”

He laughs. “Deal. And you’re still my jumbly girl, you know that, don’t you? See, I read that bloody nursery rhyme book to Queenie so many times I know it off by heart now.”

“Good, because for a minute there I thought you meant it looks like I get my clothes in jumble sales. But if you’re quoting Edward Lear, that’s okay.”

He laughs.

“Jumble sales are Vintage, angel, very cool.”

“Night Daniel.”

“Night angel.”

I have a quiet moment, feeling tearful, but I’m sure that’s just this bloody cold. There’s a part of me that wishes things were different, that I was ten years younger and I didn’t know what I know. But only a small part.

“Mum.”

“Yes Jack.”

“The chips are ready.”

It just goes to show, to every cloud there’s definitely a silver lining.

“Lovely darling, I’ll be down in a minute.”

It’s half past seven in the morning, and I’m trying to finish the list for the birthday party tomorrow. I can’t believe it’s the middle of October already, and Pearl is nearly two and Jack is going to be ten. Ten; it’s ridiculous, it seems like only five minutes ago when he was a baby. The past few weeks have passed in a blur of knitting and Nativity plans, but we’ve finally settled on Jack’s favorite party theme, which is what he wants every year although he likes to take his time before he finally decides. A bonfire fancy-dress party with a Halloween theme, with Pearl being allowed to have her own cake and a share in the celebrations. I’m sure when she’s bigger we’ll be Princesses a-go-go, but this year she won’t really care as long as I don’t try to dress her up as a pumpkin.

I call Ellen for a catch-up chat.

“I’m sorry we won’t be there, darling.”

“You’d be mad to miss the chance of a few days away, all expenses paid.”

“I know, but the hotel is full of telly people, and Eddie didn’t sleep that well in his travel cot last night. I’ll have to book him and Harry their own room for tonight if he carries on; there’s not much point spending all day in the spa if I’m awake half the bloody night. And I’ve got to give a speech later, Broadcasting Tomorrow Today, some bollocks like that.”

“We’ll see you next weekend, and we can have another birthday moment then.”

“Okay, so you’re sorted with the Village Hall and everything?”

“Yes, Gran fixed it. They get really booked up, but there was one Sunday afternoon slot pending for the Bowls Club, so she nabbed it. We can use the field at the back for the bonfire, Reg and Jeffrey are in charge of that, and the fireworks, and Elsie’s volunteered herself for sparkler patrol.”

“What’s sparkler patrol?”

“Making sure nobody sets fire to their gloves.”

“Good plan. Did you find the Halloween tablecloths?”

“Yup, and paper plates, paper everything, so in theory we can fill a couple of rubbish bags at the end and we’ll be done. Mark’s doing the cakes, and bringing some of his butternut squash soup for the grown-ups, and I’m doing loads of baked potatoes. Christ, I better add more baking potatoes to my list.”

“Darling.”

“Yes.”

“Remember to breathe.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you haven’t got nearly forty kids and God knows how many adults coming to a tea party. Just pray it doesn’t rain, would you?”

“I’ll do my best.”

It’s not raining. Hurrah. Martin’s finally back from the last bit of his tour of the major cities in the U.K., so he’s out in the field with Graham, rearranging the bonfire while Reg and Jeffrey set up the fireworks. They’re enjoying themselves so much they were seriously discussing buying walkie-talkies for better coordination last week; I’m surprised they haven’t bought special jackets.

The noise in the hall is indescribable. Gran and Betty are in charge of musical chairs, and then we’ll move on to pin the tail on the Halloween donkey, and then musical statues to calm them down before we sit them at the trestle tables for tea. I’ve got three pass the parcels wrapped in my bag, just to keep everything going. If only the bloody cocktail sausages would cook in the antique oven, which seems to do stone cold or tepid as its two temperature options, we’d be fine. Pretty much everything else is ready.

“Do you need a hand?”

“No thanks, Tina. I’m just waiting for the sausages to cook and we’re all done.”

“You’ve put on quite a spread; it must have taken you ages.”

“Gran and Betty love making party food, it’s mostly down to them.”

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

“Yes please, that would be great.”

She puts the kettle on and rinses out the big catering teapot. “How many bags do I put in?”

“Six, and then everyone can have a cup, if they’re not in the middle of musical chairs that is.”

I give the sausages another anxious check, but the oven’s finally warming up. “Ten more minutes, I think.”

“Have a breather, love. Here, sit on that stool. I meant to tell you, have you heard the latest about Mrs. Bentley?”

The new classroom assistant for Archie’s class has turned out to be a bit of a star. Mrs. Berry loves her; she’s always been a great teacher and handles Archie brilliantly, but with Mrs. Bentley as backup, they’ve been doing all sorts of new projects. She’s not only helping out with the knitting but she’s also turned out to be Mrs. Bentley-Harrington, part of the local posh Harrington family, so Annabel has naturally assumed she’d become part of her coterie what with the snooty name and a rather good line in imperious glances. But the person she’s been most imperious with is Annabel, which we’ve all been enjoying immensely.

“We were talking about it in the salon with Jane Johnson, and apparently Annabel invited Mrs. Bentley to one of her ‘little kitchen suppers,’ you know, those ones where she goes all posh and gets the silver out, like that one Cath went to by mistake when she first moved down here, only she turned her down flat, in front of Jane. She said it was brilliant, and Annabel was so furious she broke her pencil, snapped the end right off, Jane says.”

“Archie likes her too. He says she smells of flowers, and when she reads stories she does lots of different voices.”

Tina smiles. “Top marks all round then.”

We’re clearing the plates ready to bring the jelly and ice cream in when Daniel arrives.

“Hello angel, sorry we’re so late. Tony got lost, again. Say sorry, Tony.”

Tony steps forward, grinning, and hands me two birthday cards. “Sorry Tony.”

“It’s fine, Tony, and thank you, that’s really sweet of you.”

Daniel shakes his head. “It’s not fine; I wanted to be here on time.”

“You’re in time for the cake, Daniel, and that’s the big moment. Actually, you can carry Pearl’s in if you like while I do Jack’s.”

“Really?”

He looks very pleased, and hands his camera to Tony.

“Much as it pains me, here, try and take some snaps with this, would you? Preferably where we all have heads, that kind of thing. The light’s fine, so just don’t touch anything.”

Tony gives him a Look. “Who do you think fixes all your jobs when you’re heading for disaster again?”

“Me.”

He laughs. “I believe you, guv, thousands wouldn’t.”

The cakes are a triumph, Mark has really excelled himself. Jack has a giant J-shaped chocolate cake, with candles and indoor sparklers, and Pearl’s is a pink extravaganza with edible glitter. She’s completely thrilled. We sing “Happy Birthday” and then shepherd everyone outside to work off some of the sugar overload by racing round the bonfire before the fireworks kick off.

I’m making another round of cups of teas and coffee when Daniel comes in with two more cups. “Reg says he’d like one sugar this time.”

“Okay.”

“Great bonfire. Here, I got this for my girl, but I didn’t want you opening it in front of everyone.”

He reaches into his satchel and hands me a battered old leather box, in pale green leather.

It’s a tiara, with a pearl in the middle, and what look like diamonds suspended in the middle of the flower shapes that surround the pearl.

“Oh, God, Daniel, it’s gorgeous.”

“It’s a necklace too. That central bit unclips and there’s a silver chain, in that little velvet pocket, see?”

“It’s beautiful. She’ll love it, but it’s far too—”

“I know, but I couldn’t resist it. It probably belonged to another Principessa. I found it in Venice. It just seemed so perfect, and I thought you could save it for her, for when she’s bigger.”

“Of course I will. Actually, she’d love it now, but I’d be worried she’d break it, it’s so delicate.”

“Good, I’m glad you like it. I told the guy in the shop it was for my two-year-old daughter. It felt great saying it, actually, and he went all soppy; you know what the Italians are like about kids. So I had to buy it after that. But we can’t have our girl with better jewelry than her mum, can we? So here.”

He hands me another battered box, this time in navy blue leather.

“Daniel, you shouldn’t— Oh, my God.”

It’s the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen. A pearl necklace, with what I seriously hope aren’t diamonds around the central pearl, which is huge, and beautiful pearl earrings to match. I should probably refuse it, but I can’t. I love it too much already.

“Thank you, so much, it’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Great, so now you’ve both got diamonds. Girl’s best friend, right?”

“Definitely.”

Bloody hell, they really are diamonds.

“And you’re still sure, angel? No second thoughts? There could be more diamonds, just say the word.”

He’s looking nervous.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to change my mind.”

He grins. “But wherever you are, whoever you’re with, I’m access all areas, yes? Well, not all areas but—”

“I know what you mean, Daniel, and yes. You’re stuck with us now.”

“Good. What did you get her by the way?”

“A plastic toddler-size kitchen, with plastic plates and saucepans and food. It’s completely hideous. But at least it won’t cause any damage if I put her saucepans on fast spin. Tragically stereotypical, I know, but she loves it.”

“Whatever gets you through the night, right?”

“Yes.”

He puts his arms round my waist and kisses me on the cheek, just as the kitchen door opens and Martin comes in.

Damn. They’ve been ignoring each other so far, not in any obvious way, but there’s definitely been a tension. Which has just got a whole lot worse.

“Hello Martin. How are you?”

“I was fine, until you turned up. Can we have a word? Outside?”

Oh, God.

“Sure, what about? It’s not about the wonderful world of wood, is it mate, because to be honest, it’s not really my thing.”

“I want to know what your intentions are. With Jo. I mean obviously Jo.”

“Sorry?”

“Do you love her? Because if you do, well, that’s fine. I mean not fine, obviously, but I can accept that. But if you don’t, then I think you should leave. It’s the last thing she needs, the last thing the kids need, someone wasting their time. So, do you?”

“Sorry, you’ve lost me. Do I what?”

“Love her.”

“I’m not sure I’m really comfortable discussing that with someone wearing such a ridiculous hat. Your mother made it, is that right?”

Martin goes red, and pulls his hat off.

“That’s better. Now, where were we?”

Martin steps forward. “Will you just answer the question?”

“Or what? Christ, you’re not going to challenge me to a duel are you? With special chisels or something?”

Crikey. So much testosterone, so little time. Actually, this is getting ridiculous.

“Daniel, stop it.”

He smiles. “It’s fine, angel. We’re just having a chat. You need to channel it, mate, be a bit more assertive in your daily life, don’t go round bottling it all up and then start venting at people.”

“Daniel, I mean it. Stop it.”

“It’s all right. I’m just giving a few tips, man to man.”

Martin looks furious.

Oh, God, they’re glaring at each now.

Tony arrives, looking breathless. “What’s going on here then? Come on, gents, let’s break this up, shall we? I’ve always wanted to say that. Not much chance surrounded by models and bloody clients. Come on, guv, let’s—”

“Fuck off, Tony. There’s nothing to break up. He’s come in, said his piece, and taken his woolly hat off. And now he’s done. About time too, if you ask me.”

And then Martin shoves him, and he lurches backward, and then he shoves him back.

It’s so ridiculous I think we’re all slightly stunned for a moment.

“Stop it, right now. Honestly, you’re worse than the kids. Martin, go back outside, and Daniel, pull yourself together.”

“Why do I have to be the one that goes outside?”

Daniel sniggers.

“Right, I’ll go outside, and when you’ve both finished behaving like children, you can both bugger off home. I’ve had quite enough of this.”

“No, it’s fine Jo. I’ll go out. I need to help Dad with the fireworks.”

Martin glares at Daniel, picks up his hat, and slams the door behind him.

“What’s his problem?”

“I quite liked him.” Tony’s grinning.

“Tony, you know that thing where I tell you to piss off, and you don’t get it?”