Julia doubted that it was easy to pop anywhere with five children in tow, but Lily made everything look so effortless that you could just be sucked in by it and forget the logistical challenges of her life. Felicity clicked something on her phone and started squinting at the screen. She should probably get her eyes tested, Julia thought, but Felicity would never admit that her eyesight was slipping.
‘I’m here today,’ Felicity recited. ‘Meeting late tomorrow, out of town. Wednesday is the third Wednesday so we’re all around. Thursday is a bit vague but perhaps she’ll be back by . . .’
‘Who’ll be back?’ asked their father, kicking the door open with the toe of his slipper and then turning on the spot to push it wide with his back. He was carrying a tray on which sat three glasses of purple squash and what looked like four gin and tonics, the bubbles fizzing delicately. Ice cubes clinked as he set the tray down. ‘I took the liberty of preparing a little something for us all,’ he said, taking the largest of the gins and holding it aloft. ‘Cheers!’
‘Mum, of course,’ replied Felicity. ‘And I can’t drink that. I’m driving.’
‘Well, one little gin won’t hurt,’ replied their father, lifting a glass and offering it to Felicity, who looked as if he were passing her a glass of Novichok. Julia reached out and took the glass from him.
‘I’ll have one, thanks, Dad,’ she said, and took a long gulp. The lemon tasted sharp on her tongue.
Lily handed the squash out. The twins, not much older than Hugo, seemed to manage the glasses with no difficulty, but Julia noticed Felicity watching her son, ready to pounce should a drop spill.
‘Shall we sit down?’ asked Julia and moved towards the well-worn sofas. For a year or two, when shabby chic had been all the rage, they had almost been in vogue, but now they just looked tired. They were still comfortable, though. Buy well, buy once was one of her father’s mottos.
They all took a seat, Felicity perching next to Hugo, Julia and Lily and the baby taking the other sofa, their father in his armchair and the twins sprawled on the floor at their feet. Hugo, apparently feeling disadvantaged by sitting with the grown-ups, slipped down to roll around with them. Julia noticed that he left the iPad where it was, and that Felicity shot out a hand to make sure that it was safely in place and didn’t fall. The boys immediately fell into a game of rock, paper, scissors.
‘So, Dad,’ said Julia. ‘What’s this all about? Where has Mum gone exactly?’
‘And why?’ chipped in Felicity with more aggression than the question merited.
Julia threw her a warning look, which Felicity ignored.
‘Your mother has gone to Kefalonia until Friday,’ their father said.
Julia noticed that his gaze was focused on the heads of his grandsons, seemingly to avoid meeting his daughters’ eyes.
‘An opportunity arose for her to go and she decided to take it,’ he continued. ‘With my blessing,’ he added, in case this was in any doubt.
‘Lucky Mum,’ said Lily, shifting the baby in her lap and lifting up her shirt. The baby’s head disappeared under a tent of white linen. Her father didn’t flinch, but Julia knew that he still found breastfeeding to be a painfully intimate activity and one that he would rather not be witness to, despite Lily’s practised discretion.
‘What opportunity?’ Felicity asked, clearly not as easily fobbed off as her sister.
‘She received a letter inviting her and she decided to go,’ their father replied. ‘Personally, I think it’s wonderful that the world is now so small that we can do these things so easily and I wholeheartedly support her decision.’
This sounded to Julia like a pre-prepared speech, and for the first time it crossed her mind that there might be more to her mother’s trip than met the eye. Her father nodded then, and took another mouthful of his gin as if to signal the end of the matter.
Lily’s mouth turned down a little at the corners as she considered this, and then she threw Julia a look that told her that her twin was content to let this be enough for now.
But now, Felicity was digging in. ‘But what do I do with Hugo on Thursday? Mum knows that Thursday is the nanny’s day off.’
‘I can have him,’ said Lily.
‘As can I,’ said their father, sounding just a little put out. Felicity could be so insensitive at times. Now she sniffed at all these offers of help as if they were an unwelcome solution to the fundamental problem of what had caused their mother to leave.
‘You haven’t had a row, have you, Dad?’ asked Julia gently. ‘She’s not gone off in a strop?’
Their father settled his gaze on her now, his dark eyes full of mirth, the wrinkles around them deepening a little. ‘No strops,’ he said simply.
This, it seemed, was all they were going to get, no matter how much Felicity huffed and puffed. Julia found that she quite liked the intrigue of it all. Their mother was safe, which was the main thing, and no doubt someone would tell them what it had all been about eventually. They would just have to be patient.
‘Well, I think it’s very odd,’ sniffed Felicity. ‘And what about food, Dad?’
‘What about it?’ replied their father. ‘I’m sure I shall require to eat some whilst your mother is away.’
Lily suppressed a giggle, and began to fuss the feeding baby to try and disguise it. Julia bit her lip. Was there anything funnier than Felicity being frustrated by their father?
‘My point exactly,’ Felicity pressed on. ‘So, I thought we should draw up a rota and then one of us can come round each evening and bring you your dinner.’
The humour flooded from their father’s face and he set his jaw as he had done if one of them had challenged him when they were girls.
‘I may be older than you, Fliss darling, but I’m hardly incapable. Granted, the preparation of dinner has generally fallen to your mother to date, but I watched a very interesting television programme last night with one Jamie Oliver. He made food preparation look very simple. I thought I might have a go myself. It’ll be a nice surprise for your mother when she gets back.’
‘Good on you, Dad,’ said Lily. ‘I’ve got a couple of his recipe books. I’ll bring them round and you can see if there’s anything you fancy.’
Their father sat back in his seat and nodded happily, as if his becoming an excellent chef was now all but guaranteed.
The front door banged and Lily’s two older boys returned, squabbling about who had been faster. Where the twins were fair, Frankie and Enzo had their father’s Italian blood with dark hair and skin that toasted to a rich hazelnut colour at the first sign of sunshine.
‘They’re hungry,’ said Lily, rolling her eyes. ‘They’re always hungry. I’d better take them home and get them fed.’ She unhooked the baby from her breast and then, retying the scarf sling over one shoulder, she slid him back into his cocoon. ‘Come on, you two,’ she said to the twins. ‘Home time.’
Then she picked up her gin and tonic and downed it in one, avoiding looking at Felicity who would no doubt have a view about the ethics of alcohol and breastfeeding. Hugo looked as if his world might end if his cousins left.
‘You must come and play very soon, Hugo,’ she added and his smile reblossomed.