Some Girls Do (46 page)

‘Oh, it’s you,’ Michelle said, when she opened the door to Luca that evening, stepping back ungraciously to let him in.

Claire’s other sister-in-law was in the kitchen, but everyone else seemed to have gone.

‘Where’s Claire?’ he asked.

‘She’s having a lie-down,’ Michelle said, and pursed her lips disapprovingly.

‘Okay. I’ll just … go up and see if she needs anything,’ he said, heading for the stairs.

‘I hate to say it,’ he heard Michelle whisper loudly as he left the room, ‘but I think Claire’s being a bit of a drama queen.’

Luca stilled, one foot on the bottom step.

‘Well, her mother died,’ Liz said.

‘Yes, but she’s not the only one. Neil and Ronan lost their
mother too and you don’t see them carrying on like that. I think she’s milking it a bit, making it all about her.’

‘It’s not a competition for who’s the most upset. Claire lived with Espie. They were very close. It’s only natural—’

Luca was about to carry on upstairs when Michelle said something else that stopped him in his tracks.

‘And what’s the story with this Luca? Why is he suddenly around all the time? Has he moved in or what?’

‘He’s just being supportive to Claire. I think it’s nice that she has someone.’

‘She has her family. If you ask me, he thinks he’s onto a good thing here. Did you see his face when I said the house would have to be sold?’

‘He was just concerned about Claire. It was rather insensitive to bring that up this morning.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I think one of us should have a word with Claire, put her on her guard.’

‘Oh, come on. Claire isn’t stupid.’

‘But she’s a bit naïve about men. She hasn’t had many boyfriends. It would be easy for someone to take advantage, flatter her with some attention. Especially now when she’s just suffered a loss …’

Luca didn’t wait to hear any more. He felt like running away, mortified that Claire’s family could think he was on the make, but he forced himself to carry on up the stairs. Surely Claire wouldn’t believe that about him if they said it to her. He knocked on the door of her room before entering. She was lying under the duvet, fully dressed.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked softly. ‘Do you want anything?’

‘No, thanks,’ she said, as he crossed the room and sat on the bed. ‘Are Michelle and Liz still here?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m just being a wimp, hiding up here until everyone’s gone. I can’t take any more of Michelle being “marvellous”.’

‘I’ll tell her to fuck off if you want.’

Claire smiled. ‘Better not. She already doesn’t like you. I think she suspects you’re after my money.’

Luca laughed in relief. ‘Yeah, I heard her talking. She’s going to warn you about me.’

‘Oh, God – sorry. She’s an awful wagon.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.’

‘Thanks,’ Claire said, her eyes drooping closed.

‘You should try to get some sleep.’ Luca kissed her forehead and crept quietly out of the room.

When he went back downstairs, Claire’s sisters-in-law were in the kitchen, surveying the food.

‘I don’t know what people are thinking,’ Michelle said, standing in the open fridge doorway. ‘I mean, they must know that Claire’s on her own now. She’ll never get through all this.’

‘Well, we could divide it up for her and put it in the freezer,’ Liz suggested, standing at the table, beside the cakes. ‘It’d be handy for her to have some stuff ready when she comes home from work.’

‘I know people mean well, but it’s not thoughtful,’ Michelle continued, as if Liz hadn’t spoken.

‘Or she might have people over,’ Luca suggested.

‘Who would she have over?’ Michelle said dismissively. ‘Well, it would be a shame to let all this go to waste. I’ll take this,’ she said, pulling a huge tray of lasagne out of the fridge. ‘It’ll save me having to cook for a couple of nights. I was up to my eyes this week already, and now with this funeral on top of everything else, I won’t have a minute.’

‘Maybe we should stay and eat with Claire tonight,’ Liz said uncertainly.

‘I think she’d rather be on her own,’ Michelle said.

At least she’d got that right, Luca thought.

‘I’ll be here anyway,’ he said, adding, under his breath, ‘eyeing up the silverware.’

‘What?’ Michelle asked sharply, turning to him. ‘What did you say?’

‘Nothing.’

Liz smirked at him, obviously having heard, but said nothing.

‘You can take these casseroles, Liz.’ Michelle heaved two large dishes onto the table. ‘My lot won’t eat them anyway. They won’t touch anything with gravy.’

‘Maybe just one …’

‘Take them both. They’ll freeze well. And I’ll take all this cake. Holly has a bake sale in school this week, so we can get rid of a lot of it that way. And the rest I’ll freeze and use for school lunches.’

‘We should leave something for Claire,’ Liz said.

‘There’s still a chicken in the fridge,’ Michelle said. ‘It’s raw, but Claire has nothing else to do now. It’ll do her good to have something to occupy her – take her mind off things. She needs to keep busy.’

The doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be Neil and Ronan back,’ Liz said, going to answer it. She returned, followed by the four children. ‘Neil and Ronan are waiting in the cars, so we’ll be off,’ she said to Luca. Then she started barking instructions at her children. ‘Take that dish, Adam. Ben, you take the other one. Hold it straight – don’t let it drip on the floor.’

Luca watched as Claire’s sisters-in-law and their progeny went through the kitchen like a team of worker ants, streaming in and out of the house, the children bearing dishes of food almost bigger than themselves to the cars, until the place was empty except for him and a lone chicken.

When he went to tell Claire everyone had gone and it was safe to come downstairs, he found her asleep. He was glad – she
must be exhausted. He felt so helpless in the face of her grief, and he wished there was something he could do to make her feel better. He pondered this as he returned to the kitchen. Unfortunately, sex was off the table. He knew he could make her feel good that way, but even if he wasn’t supposed to be keeping his hands off her, now probably wasn’t the time. What else did people turn to for comfort? Food? Maybe he could make her dinner. He opened the fridge and stared into it, almost empty now except for the chicken – thank goodness her sisters-in-law had left that. Now he just had to figure out what the fuck to do with it.

He took it out and examined it, relieved to find that there were cooking instructions on the bottom. It seemed you basically just had to bung it in the oven – that should be easy enough. He rooted around and found potatoes and vegetables, and set to peeling and chopping. The vegetables, however, didn’t come with instructions, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them once he’d cut them into pleasingly even chunks. And there should be gravy too. He had no idea how gravy happened. He’d ask Ali, he thought, grabbing his phone. When she didn’t answer her mobile, he rang home. Jacqueline answered.

‘Hi. Is Ali there?’

‘No, she’s out. You could try her mobile.’

‘I did. She’s not answering it.’ Luca hesitated. ‘I wanted to ask her something but … I guess I can ask you instead.’

‘Okay …’

‘How do you make roast potatoes? Really good ones like you and Ali make.’

‘Oh. You’re cooking?’ She sounded surprised.

‘Um … yeah. I’m making dinner for Claire.’

‘Sounds romantic.’

‘No, it’s really not. Her mother died last night.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Give her my condolences.’

‘Yeah, I will. So … roast potatoes? And I need to know about gravy too. I mean, where does that, like, come from?’

‘Okay, for really good roast potatoes, you’re going to have to parboil the potatoes first …’

Luckily, Claire came downstairs just as Luca was starting to worry that the chicken would go cold. His mother had told him how to let it rest, and it was sitting on the worktop under foil.

‘I fell asleep,’ she said, rubbing her eyes as she came into the kitchen. ‘Gosh, something smells really good.’

‘I made dinner,’ Luca said. ‘Sit down.’ He waved at the table, which was set for two. He had even lit a candle.

‘Oh! Do you want me to help with anything?’

‘No, thanks. Just – don’t look,’ Luca said, as he began hacking at the chicken with a knife. He was relieved when Claire sat down with her back to him. It might not look very pretty, he thought, as he tore at the meat, transferring huge chunks – you couldn’t really call them slices – to two plates, but it smelled fucking delicious. He cut up the whole chicken and divided it equally, piling it up on the plates. It looked like an awful lot, he thought, surveying it dubiously. Maybe you weren’t meant to serve the whole thing in one go. He shuffled some meat back into the dish from both plates until the portions looked more reasonable. Then he added roast potatoes, carrots, stuffing and gravy.

‘It’s chicken,’ he said, as he plonked a plate in front of Claire.

‘Thank you. This looks amazing. But you really needn’t have gone to all this trouble. There’s already tons of food in the house.’

‘Not any more,’ he said, as he poured them both wine. ‘Your sisters-in-law made off with it all.’

‘Oh,’ Claire said. ‘I might have known.’ For a moment she just looked at her plate. She took up her knife and fork and began to eat slowly, carefully. And then, to Luca’s horror, she began to cry silently, great fat tears rolling down her face and splashing into her gravy.

‘Oh, God, is it awful?’ He winced apologetically. ‘Sorry.’

Claire shook her head mutely.

‘Really, if it’s terrible, just don’t eat it.’

Claire wiped her eyes with her napkin. ‘It’s not that …’

Luca threw down his napkin and got up, crouching beside her to put his arms around her. ‘Hey, come on,’ he said gently, rubbing her arms. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s just a stupid chicken. There are some frozen pizzas in the freezer. I just thought—’

She sniffed, shaking her head. ‘It’s not that, Luca, honestly. It’s gorgeous.’

‘Really? You’re not crying because it’s horrible?’

‘No. I’m really not. It’s perfect.’

‘What is it, then?’

‘It’s just that it’s so … beautiful.’

‘Really? My cooking is so good it made you weep?’

She laughed softly, brushing away her tears. ‘It’s … so thoughtful. It’s such a lovely thing to do. I’m touched, that’s all.’

‘Oh. Well, if there’s nothing wrong with it, you’d better eat it before it goes cold.’ He gave her a soft kiss on her forehead and got up, returning to his seat.

‘Better?’ he asked, as Claire resumed eating. She nodded, smiling at him.

‘Oh, my God, this
is
good,’ Luca said. There had been a lot more bother involved in making roast potatoes than he’d anticipated, but it had paid off. They were crunchy on the outside and meltingly soft on the inside. Good enough to make angels weep, he thought – literally.

‘Are you okay?’ Luca asked Claire later, as they lay in bed together.

‘Mm. I just can’t get to sleep.’

‘Do you want to read for a while? I don’t mind if you want to turn the light back on.’

‘I wish I could, but I don’t think I could keep my eyes open. I’m too tired to read and too awake to sleep.’

‘I’ll read to you, if you like.’

She turned to him. ‘Would you?’

‘Sure.’ He shrugged.

Claire turned on the bedside light. There were a couple of books on the nightstand, but she ignored them, getting out of bed and going to the bookcase on the far wall. She wanted the comfort of something familiar – the book equivalent of a roast-chicken dinner – and she knew what she was looking for. She found it quickly and got back into bed, handing it to Luca.

‘
Pride and Prejudice
?’ he read the cover. ‘I’ve never read this.’ He leaned back against the headboard, opening the book. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Ready,’ she murmured, snuggling down beside him and closing her eyes.

‘“It is a truth universally acknowledged,”’ Luca began, ‘“that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife …”’

Claire relaxed to the deep, soothing tone of Luca’s voice as he read the familiar story.

Chapter Thirty-one

‘I brought this over last night,’ Luca said, in the morning, handing Claire a large square parcel wrapped in brown paper, ‘but I wasn’t sure … I was going to give it to Espie for her birthday. I thought you might like to have it.’

‘I told you she said not to get her a present,’ Claire said, sitting at the table to open it.

‘She said not to
buy
her a present.’ Luca smiled. ‘And I didn’t.’

‘Oh.’ Claire tore at the paper, guessing what it was. Her eyes welled when she uncovered the painting and recognised her mother and her friends grouped around a table playing cards. Even Luca was there at the bottom of the picture, his back to the viewer, and Claire was opposite him, her head bent as she studied her cards, frowning in concentration. But Espie was at the centre, all the light in the painting falling on her as she pulled a card from her hand, her eyes alight with triumph.

‘Oh, Luca!’ Tears spilled from Claire’s eyes. He had captured her mother so perfectly – not just her physical likeness but her essence. It was almost as if she was alive again, here in the room with them. She flipped the canvas around, where Luca had scrawled the date and title on the back. ‘
The Trick
,’ she read.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have given it to you,’ he said, his eyes full of concern. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘No, it’s perfect.’ She threw an arm around him and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you. I just wish Mum could have seen it. She would have loved it so much – after she’d got over being cross with you for giving her a present.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I’m going
to bring it to the mortuary tonight and ask them to put it on the coffin tomorrow at the funeral.’

It was another long, deadening day of arrangements, tea and visitors. Claire was so weary of the inertia, she was almost relieved when it was time to go to the mortuary that evening, finally signalling the beginning of the end.