I Should Be So Lucky (27 page)

‘I’m only saying it’s different from the old days,’ Naomi told them. ‘I didn’t say I wanted to go back to them. I was a war child, remember. Powdered egg and
Woolton
Pie. When I moved south and discovered Italian food in Soho it was like … wonderland. Talk about exotic. Until then I’d thought spaghetti only came in tins.’

‘What’s Woolton Pie?’ Rachel asked, looking horrified. ‘Is it sheep – you know, as in, like,
wool
?’

‘You’re not the only one who doesn’t know that,’ Marco told her.

‘It’s sort of vegetable crumble. Must have been perfect if you had a father who grew prize-winning vegetables,’ Miles reminded Rachel. ‘I bet they had to put a security fence round, back then.’

‘Don’t be so daft, Miles,’ Naomi scolded him. ‘Nobody
stole
. You didn’t. You trusted your neighbours.’

‘Are you going to grow vegetables here?’ Rob asked Viola. ‘That’s quite a long garden you’ve got. You could put a lovely little potager down at the end. Some raised beds maybe, or divide sections up with fancy brickwork. I have a … er … friend who’s done that.’

‘Oh, yes. He certainly has,’ Kate hissed across the table in Viola’s general direction. ‘He absolutely has got
a friend
with a very swish whopping great garden. You wouldn’t run short of rations
there
, that’s for sure. Of any sort.’

‘Ooh, am I missing something here?’ Marco asked, eyebrows raised.

Viola gave him a warning look.

‘
Okaay!
’ he said. ‘Please would someone pass the
Parmesan?
Lovely supper, Vee. To think when I met you we only ate chips. But hey, that’s love for you.’

‘Oh yuck, Dad,
perlease
.’ Rachel shuddered.

‘Marco still does eat chips, any chance he gets,’ James told them.

‘I’ll probably grow some easy stuff,’ Viola said, wondering, as Rob topped up his glass, if he and Kate were going to drink enough to end up with their marriage problems spilled all over the table. ‘Tomatoes in pots, a few sugar snaps, that kind of thing.’ And cucumbers, perhaps. She’d put one of Greg’s into tonight’s salad. It may have been her imagination, but she was sure it had more flavour than any she’d tasted. She’d even found herself feeling surprised none of the others had commented, till she told herself not to be so silly – it was
just a cucumber
.

‘You should get that gardening man friend of yours to help,’ Naomi suggested. ‘The scruffy-looking one who was always hanging around. That garden’s going to need a lot of work.’

‘What man?’ Miles said, looking alarmed. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve got another …’

‘Why shouldn’t she?’ Marco challenged. ‘You surely don’t expect Viola to shut down on a sex life at her age?’

‘Bleurgh! Dad, that’s even worse! That’s, like,
Mum
you’re talking about?’

‘No, really, I haven’t got anyone!’ Viola felt she was being cross-examined. For a few seconds she allowed
the
mud-streaked image of Greg and his mad, broad, wolfy smile to settle in her head, as if she’d pressed the pause button on an Internet slide show. Then she clicked the image forward to him softly stroking his finger down her face when they planted the tulips. And then kissing him.
Goodbye
, she told the pictures, feeling a deep punch of pain in her chest. Heartburn, she decided, preferring to think she’d eaten the lasagne too hot to the knowledge that she’d very much miss him.

‘The one from that night, you mean,’ Kate said, ‘with the filthy green Land Rover. Greg someone?’ She was slurring now, heading towards danger mode. Kate could say anything, Viola realized. It would be an absolute miracle if she remembered that the night at the police station was to be kept firmly between the two of them.

‘
What
night?’ Rob smirked. ‘Have you been out on the tiles, Vee?’

‘Gregory Fabian. And no tiles, Rob,’ she said quietly, then made a desperate bid to change the subject. ‘So – Ireland. Have you checked the weather forecast, Marco?’

‘
Fabian?
No! Really?
Fabian?
That’s amazing!’ Kate wasn’t to be distracted.

‘Sun and showers. The usual for August. And
definitely
usual for Ireland. James bought six umbrellas in Poundland, just in case.’

‘Well, you need to be prepared. You’ll thank me for them, you know.’

‘That man who was in the flat a bit too early in the morning and smells of putty?’ Naomi asked.

‘
Six?
Why so many?’ Viola asked.

‘In case of gales and resulting brolly destruction,’ James told her.

‘Early in the morning, was he? Interesting …’ Miles gave her a hard stare.

‘No, Miles, it’s not “interesting”.’ Viola gave up on the Ireland and umbrellas question. ‘So you can put your eyebrows back down. But what’s the big deal, Kate? You don’t know him, do you?’ Well, of course she did, if only briefly. Viola wished they’d talk about anything but this. Any second now and the whole night in the police cells thing would be out in the open, and they’d be forcing her to pack a bag and move back to the family version of house arrest. Not a chance.

‘Fabian. That name is on the family tree. Let me see …’ Kate screwed up her face, closed her eyes, concentrating. ‘Dad’s side. He had a sister, maybe just a half-one actually, I’d have to check. Anyway, an aunt we never met; she married a Fabian. The family lived in a huge old house by the river with what used to be a market garden. The house got knocked down in the early sixties before anyone thought of listing these places, but the old walled garden’s still in one piece, I think.’ Kate rattled it off as if she was reciting quotes she’d had to learn for homework. ‘See? The things you find out when you start delving into this family-history
lark
. That Greg, he’ll be our long-lost cousin, I bet you anything. So there you are then – think of it as me doing you a favour. I’ve saved you from a spot of incest.’

‘Strictly speaking it wouldn’t be incest – a bit too remote,’ Miles told her, looking serious. ‘But it would hardly be ideal.’

‘Oh, Miles, don’t be so boring. And it would be quite all right. But Viola’s not likely to want to get involved with someone at the moment, now is she?’ Naomi said. ‘Not after everything.’

‘It isn’t even remotely on the cards,’ Viola insisted, starting to clear the empty plates. ‘He’s – was – just someone I met. A nice man. Kind.’ She felt very flat as she shoved cutlery too haphazardly into the dishwasher. Forks fell to the bottom and she stabbed her hand on a knife when reaching over it to retrieve them. There was blood, but not much, and she quickly rinsed her finger under the tap and wrapped a piece of kitchen paper round it. This was supposed to be such a happy evening, this new start in her own home, but it was all turning argumentative and uncomfortable. Nothing that pudding couldn’t fix, she resolved, taking the lemon tart and bowl of raspberries out of the fridge.

‘I don’t really mind if Mum meets someone,’ Rachel said. ‘I don’t want her to be all lonely and thinking only about me all the time.’

‘No, of course you don’t,’ Marco teased. ‘That way you’d never get away with teenage naughtiness. You’d be
being
watched
. Nothing worse when you’re at that essential breakout stage.’

Rachel blushed and started concentrating on rolling her napkin into a sausage shape.

‘We should all get to know him,’ Kate suggested. ‘Invite him over and see if there are other cousins and stuff. A whole new family. Vee? Do you think he’d be up for that?’

‘Er … well, who can say? Really, I hardly know him. And also, I mean, would you want to hook up with a whole bunch of people who claimed they were your relatives, if it was a different way round?’

‘Hmm … I see what you mean. Could be a bit weird.’

‘Most of us have trouble coping with the families we’ve already got,’ Rob said, glancing sideways at Kate.

‘Don’t we just,’ she snapped back.

‘Tensions there,’ Marco whispered to Viola.

‘Oh, there so are,’ she murmured back.

‘Excellent pud, Viola, lovely tart,’ Rob interrupted, giving Marco a suspicious look.

‘Yes, Rob likes a
lovely tart
,’ Kate snarled.

‘Kate!’ Naomi snapped, putting her spoon down noisily. ‘If you’ve got something on your mind, damn well come out with it. The way you’re being tonight there’ll be blood on the carpet before the end of it.’

‘Well, you like a murder to solve, don’t you?’ Marco grinned at her, and Viola blew him a kiss for trying to keep the mood light.

‘Look, we’re supposed to be celebrating Viola’s new go at life. She and Rachel being back in their house,’ Miles said. ‘Even though
some
of us think it’s all a bit too … well, soon isn’t the word.’

‘No, it’s not. She shouldn’t be here at all. It’s stupid. Moving on should be exactly that.’ Kate was drooping miserably over her plate, all spirit vanished. Then she looked up, bright-eyed and manically animated suddenly. ‘I know, Viola, why don’t you come out flat-hunting with me on Thursday? We could find somewhere lovely, overlooking the park, live in a gorgeous mansion block, flats adjoining. It would be
huge
fun!’

There was a pause, nobody wanting to be the first to comment.

‘Sounds horrendously expensive, Kate. Besides, Rachel and I aren’t moving from here, not now we’ve just got back in. Why would we? I’ll help you look if you like, but I can’t on Thursday.’

‘Why? Are you seeing
that man
?’ Miles asked. ‘Maybe you should give your sister some help when she asks for it?’ Then he murmured so only Viola could hear, ‘God knows, Vee, it sounds like she needs it, and she’s given you plenty of
her
time.’

‘I’m not seeing
that man
. No. Actually … I can’t because …’ and she hadn’t meant to tell anyone this, but sometimes, she decided, a bit of bravado could be just what it took to get them off her case, ‘I’m going to Paris.’

TWENTY-THREE

‘HEY, I HEAR
you’re off to Paris with Lisa. Good on you! And did you see Benedict Peabody being a drunk posh git in the papers? I wasn’t surprised.’ Amanda’s phone call was the most welcome of several the next morning. Positive thinking like this was what Viola needed, not the warnings of doom and disaster she was getting from Miles and Kate. They had each called her before 10 a.m. (and how Kate managed not to be groaning on her bed with a throbbing headache was a miracle), ostensibly to thank her for dinner, but neither had resisted the opportunity to give her a lecture on Travelling Abroad with Dangerous Strangers.

Thank goodness for Naomi the night before, who had given her a hug as she left and whispered, ‘You know what they say about Paris and lovers. Take advantage while you still can.’ This had made her feel both cheered up and also – if such a thing were possible –
cheered
down
, as it rather implied her days of youth and lovers were numbered. She’d quite like to think she’d got at least the illusion of being young on her side for a few years yet, even if she didn’t intend to look for lovers. Especially not lovers who brought trouble and complications.

‘I did see him, the daft little bugger, though he’s not such a bad kid really. He’ll probably put the pics up on Facebook and his zillion friends will all click “Like”. And yes, I am going with Lisa. It’s only a day trip but honestly, Manda, if you could have heard my brother and sister going on at me you’d think I was making a three-month trek overland to China on a motorbike with a serial killer. They think I’m mad and that I’m certain to be captured for the slave trade, that’s if there is any demand for mid-thirties singletons who tend to trip over things.’

‘Bloody ’ell, do they still think you should be locked away in solitary with your mum guarding your cell?’

‘They do. For my own safety. I so wish I hadn’t said anything, but they were getting more and more nutty over supper and I just blurted it out to stop Kate from going on about the possibility that someone I’ve been slightly sort of seeing might turn out to be some kind of cousin.’

‘Oo er, how very … um … rural – or even royal, come to think of it. Don’t they all marry cousins? But, seriously, does it matter? I mean, unless he’s, like, an
actual
first
cousin, if you didn’t already know him before then he must be pretty remote, cousin-wise, so it wouldn’t be like you were brought up together, playing in the same sandpit and doing the family Christmas thing.’

‘Well, no, it’s not that, exactly. It’s a bit more complicated, I think. Anyway, it’s not that important because I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.’

It almost made her cry to say that aloud. It actually physically hurt. But whenever she recalled how lovely kissing Greg had been on that night together, she also got the accompanying mental picture of him tenderly nuzzling the head of the tiny sleeping baby and gently placing it in Mickey Fabian’s car.

‘Oh, that’s a shame, but, well, it wasn’t as if you’d got
really
involved yet, was it?’ Amanda said. ‘Think of it as a trial run. And who knows, Mr Off-to-Paris might turn out to be Mr Perfect. Or Monsieur Parfait. Just don’t get carried away and decide to stay there too long – it’s A-level-results day next week. We’ve got to be on duty at Med and Gib for our poor students, God bless the sweet young things. I hope we get to do more celebrating than consoling.’

‘How was the family supper?’ Greg’s call straight after Amanda’s wasn’t from his mobile number, so it took Viola by surprise, and the sound of his voice made her heart pound.

‘Um – it was OK, thanks. You know,
familyish
.’

‘As much fun as being out with me?’ His voice had its usual teasing edge, which always made her smile. Viola felt bad about not being very communicative, but she was putting off the moment when she would have to tell him she knew about the baby and give him her decision about not seeing him again. It wasn’t something she felt should be done over the phone, and yet how else to do it? Deciding to be sensible was a complete pain, but the ditzy airhead she now knew she’d been, marrying Rhys only eight weeks after meeting him, had vanished over the past year, leaving a far more thoughtful and wary woman in her place.