Simply Heaven (32 page)

‘Well, I am,’ she says, getting what’s going on, ‘But I’m only seventy-five. Not four thousand.’

‘Ah. You speak English.’

‘I guess after thirty years in Australia I might have picked up a bit.’

Yaya turns to Dad and says:

I tell her.

Yaya looks at me, then at Rufus, then back at me.

Rufus flashes my yaya a flirtatious look. ‘Thank you. It’s all the riding.’

I find myself blushing. Yaya cackles.

‘Well,’ says Edmund, ‘come in. You must be exhausted. I should think you could do with a drink.’

‘You’re not kidding,’ says my mum. ‘I’m as dry as a nun’s nasty.’

There’s a moment’s silence in honour of this statement. ‘Well,’ says Mary faintly, ‘we’ll see what we can do …’

As we enter the hall, I hear Mum gasp. I know everyone else has heard it too. They, of course, will be thinking she’s impressed. I know, and Dad will know, that she’s thinking about the dirt. Mum has a bit of an allergy to housedust. It makes her angry.

‘Well, this is … interesting,’ says my mum.

‘It’s colder inside than out,’ says Yaya.

‘Hey!’ says Dad, advancing into the room. ‘That’s some weapons you got there!’

‘Do you like them?’ asks Edmund. ‘That one over the fireplace is the axe my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather used to behead witches with.’

‘Radical,’ says my dad.

‘Very advanced, of course,’ says Edmund. ‘Most of them were still tying them on to bonfires at the time.’

‘Hmm,’ says Dad, ‘nowadays we just send them to Queensland and call them politicians. You mind if I smoke?’

‘Not at all,’ says Edmund.

‘Want one?’

Edmund glances at his wife and declines.

‘Go on. I’ve got plenty. Havanas. I get them sent over by the case.’

‘No, really,’ says Edmund. ‘Under orders, I’m afraid.’

‘They’re really good,’ says Dad, and elbows Edmund in the ribs. ‘Rolled on a maiden’s
thigh
, you know what I mean?’

‘Adonis!’ barks Yaya. ‘You watch your mouth! You want to show us up in front of your daughter’s new family?’

Dad just lets out one of his emphysematous chortles and claps Edmund on the back.

Yaya turns to Tilly. ‘What joy you have beneath your dress,’ she says.

Tilly looks startled, glances down and remembers that she’s pregnant. ‘Yes, I – thank you.’

‘It will be any day now, I think,’ says Yaya.

‘Another few weeks, I’m afraid,’ says Tilly.

Yaya shakes her head firmly. ‘No. Next few days. And it will be a boy.’

‘Oh, I
do
hope so,’ says Mary, who seems to have recovered her composure.

‘I am always right,’ says Yaya. ‘In fifty years, I never been wrong.’

‘Well!’ says Mary. ‘At least
that’s
something to look forward to!’

‘You got to be strong to have children,’ says Yaya gloomily. Pats Tilly’s belly absentmindedly as though she were a passing moo-cow. ‘First they rip you apart when they come into the world, and then they rip your heart from your body when you are old. It’s no life, being a woman. A vale of tears.’

Rufus brings in the last of Mum’s bags. He’s looking a bit pink about the face. ‘I think that’s the lot,’ he says.

‘Oh, thank you. Now come into the light and let me have a proper look at you.’

Rufus looks sheepish, ducks his head and steps in front of her. Looks down at her. Something passes between them and they both smile. Then Mum stretches up and pinches him on the cheek like a little boy. ‘Not bad for a pommy.’

‘I’ve seen worse ockerinas.’

‘You’re going to look after my little girl, aren’t you?’

‘I shall cherish her like finest porcelain.’

Mum bellows with laughter. ‘Cheeky monkey.’

‘You’ve brought plenty of luggage,’ says Mary faintly.

‘Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,’ says my dad. ‘She takes a suitcase on wheels when she goes out to lunch in case she feels like a change of outfit.’

‘Didn’t really know what to pack,’ adds Mum. ‘It’s kind of hard to believe that it’s really going to be cold in December. So I packed a bit of everything. And besides, you need the odd special gear for Christmas, don’t you? Plus, of course, the big trunk is gifts. You’ll have to wait for the big day to see what they are, though.’

Hilary finally finds his voice. ‘You’ve come for Christmas?’

‘Yeah. Only period Don can get the time off. As it is, we’ve had to leave Melody’s brother behind to look after the shop. But we couldn’t leave our little girl to fend for herself in a strange country over the festive season, eh?’ There’s a little pause as this information sinks in, then Mum, suddenly remembering her manners, adds: ‘If that’s OK, of course. If we’re not putting you out.’

‘No, no,’ says Mary.

‘Cause I’m sure we could still check into a hotel,’ says Ma unconvincingly.

‘I told you we should have given them some notice,’ says Yaya.

‘But that would have spoiled the surprise,’ says Edmund. ‘We’ve plenty of bedrooms.’

‘That’s good. Was wondering when we came down the hill if it wasn’t a lunatic asylum,’ says Mum. Hastily adds, when she sees how well this is going down: ‘I can give you a hand with the cooking.’

‘How kind …’ says Mary.

‘Or I’ll tell you what,’ offers Dad, ‘maybe there’s a hotel or a restaurant around here that does Christmas dinner? Maybe I could take us all out, eh? My shout.’

‘How kind …’ says Mary again. I think she’s gone on to automatic. I can see her gazing at my mum’s trainers, at the spectacles held round her neck by a white plastic chain (she’s got chains to go with all her outfits), at Dad’s bomber jacket, at Yaya’s old-Greek-lady black dress and furry boots. ‘So!’ she says brightly. ‘Let’s go up to the drawing room and get you a drink!’

‘Thought you’d never ask,’ says Mum drily.

‘We’ve some champagne in the cellar,’ says Mary.

‘Christ, no,’ says Mum, ‘hate the stuff. Gives me terrible wind. Have you got anything else?’

The cellphone I insisted on going to buy in Bicester yesterday arvo while the olds napped off their jet lag wakes me, bimbling out the chorus of ‘Delilah’ in the dark, pulling me slowly out of sleep like a mosquito buzzing in my ear. Seems like I’m the only one to hear it. Rufus and Buster slumber on oblivious, tandem snores filling the room as I feel about the floor for my bag.