would smell of gin.
I’ll wait till lunch is over before I say anything about our plans, she decided. Instead, in between shoving a tray of frozen potatoes in the oven, whisking up a packet of bread sauce and unwrapping the supermarket apple crumble waiting on the side, she asked her mother whether she was sleeping any better, about Desmond’s back trouble and how his sister Maggie seemed when she came last week.
Barbara, small, thin, but still elegant, her chin-length hair expertly tinted and coiffed in the 1960s ends-turned-out style that she’d always worn, politely answered each question in a toneless voice, only showing some animation when telling Kate about the problem of Travellers camping on the Downs. It was a relief when they could all move into the dining room and watch Desmond carefully carve the chicken.
‘How’s the house then?’ Desmond asked Simon as he lowered himself into his chair, unfurled his cloth napkin, and gave the signal to eat. ‘All shipshape?’ Desmond always asked his son-in-law this question but today, instead of the usual, ‘Fine, actually, Desmond. We had the gutters cleaned last week but the porch needs retiling,’ Simon looked over at Kate, who was cutting up Sam’s meat, and nodded, raising his eyebrows.
Kate put down her knife and fork and took a deep breath. ‘We’re planning to move, actually, Dad.’ She looked anxiously at her mother, who had been picking at a potato with her fork and glancing at Daisy, as if trying to think of something to ask the little girl. Barbara looked up at Kate, her face suddenly full of alarm.
Kate went on to explain that they were moving to Suffolk. Her father looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded. ‘Nice part of the world, if I remember. But what d’you want to go there for?’
Kate stabbed at a piece of chicken and summoned the courage to continue. ‘Simon’s mother lives there. She’s got a cottage large enough for us to stay in while we look for somewhere of our own. Simon will still work in the City but look for something nearby. It would be a new start for us, and it would help Joyce now she’s on her own. You remember we thought she might have had a small stroke last year? She’s recovered completely, but Simon would like to be nearby in case anything happens.’
In fact, Simon had never said anything about being anxious for Joyce’s health, but Kate instinctively felt that her parents would be reassured by being given a practical reason rather than any heavy emotional language about needing somewhere to call home or having more precious time with the children. Kate’s parents didn’t do emotion. They didn’t really do children either, and Kate had always been determined to bring up her children completely differently from the way she and Nicola had been raised.
‘I don’t know why you protect them so much,’ said Simon once when her mother had forgotten Daisy’s birthday for the second year running, despite Kate having reminded her twice. ‘They were terrible parents. They should never have had children. And now they’re hopeless grandparents.’
‘But they’re so vulnerable, Simon. They’ve been hurt by everything – losing Nicola, Mum’s problems. It would be like kicking them in the teeth to criticize them.’
‘Yeah, I know, but I hate seeing you tie yourself up in nervous knots trying to defend them. Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t complain. After all, Dad could be pretty annoying sometimes with his lecturing.’
The time her parents’ remoteness had come home to Kate hardest of all had been when Daisy was born. Joyce had immediately got the next train from Diss, her bags full of newly knitted cardigans, bootees and little hats, and had bedded down in the Hutchinsons’ house for a fortnight, directing operations with Simon fetching and carrying while Kate struggled to tend to the needs of a tiny baby who wouldn’t suck. Desmond and Barbara visited twice during this period, staying precisely one
I’ll wait till lunch is over before I say anything about our plans, she decided. Instead, in between shoving a tray of frozen potatoes in the oven, whisking up a packet of bread sauce and unwrapping the supermarket apple crumble waiting on the side, she asked her mother whether she was sleeping any better, about Desmond’s back trouble and how his sister Maggie seemed when she came last week.
Barbara, small, thin, but still elegant, her chin-length hair expertly tinted and coiffed in the 1960s ends-turned-out style that she’d always worn, politely answered each question in a toneless voice, only showing some animation when telling Kate about the problem of Travellers camping on the Downs. It was a relief when they could all move into the dining room and watch Desmond carefully carve the chicken.
‘How’s the house then?’ Desmond asked Simon as he lowered himself into his chair, unfurled his cloth napkin, and gave the signal to eat. ‘All shipshape?’ Desmond always asked his son-in-law this question but today, instead of the usual, ‘Fine, actually, Desmond. We had the gutters cleaned last week but the porch needs retiling,’ Simon looked over at Kate, who was cutting up Sam’s meat, and nodded, raising his eyebrows.
Kate put down her knife and fork and took a deep breath. ‘We’re planning to move, actually, Dad.’ She looked anxiously at her mother, who had been picking at a potato with her fork and glancing at Daisy, as if trying to think of something to ask the little girl. Barbara looked up at Kate, her face suddenly full of alarm.
Kate went on to explain that they were moving to Suffolk. Her father looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded. ‘Nice part of the world, if I remember. But what d’you want to go there for?’
Kate stabbed at a piece of chicken and summoned the courage to continue. ‘Simon’s mother lives there. She’s got a cottage large enough for us to stay in while we look for somewhere of our own. Simon will still work in the City but look for something nearby. It would be a new start for us, and it would help Joyce now she’s on her own. You remember we thought she might have had a small stroke last year? She’s recovered completely, but Simon would like to be nearby in case anything happens.’
In fact, Simon had never said anything about being anxious for Joyce’s health, but Kate instinctively felt that her parents would be reassured by being given a practical reason rather than any heavy emotional language about needing somewhere to call home or having more precious time with the children. Kate’s parents didn’t do emotion. They didn’t really do children either, and Kate had always been determined to bring up her children completely differently from the way she and Nicola had been raised.
‘I don’t know why you protect them so much,’ said Simon once when her mother had forgotten Daisy’s birthday for the second year running, despite Kate having reminded her twice. ‘They were terrible parents. They should never have had children. And now they’re hopeless grandparents.’
‘But they’re so vulnerable, Simon. They’ve been hurt by everything – losing Nicola, Mum’s problems. It would be like kicking them in the teeth to criticize them.’
‘Yeah, I know, but I hate seeing you tie yourself up in nervous knots trying to defend them. Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t complain. After all, Dad could be pretty annoying sometimes with his lecturing.’
The time her parents’ remoteness had come home to Kate hardest of all had been when Daisy was born. Joyce had immediately got the next train from Diss, her bags full of newly knitted cardigans, bootees and little hats, and had bedded down in the Hutchinsons’ house for a fortnight, directing operations with Simon fetching and carrying while Kate struggled to tend to the needs of a tiny baby who wouldn’t suck. Desmond and Barbara visited twice during this period, staying precisely one
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