difficult. She’s very insecure.’
Pip couldn’t work out if he was being defensive or explanatory. Either way she felt strangely put out by the intimate tone of his explanation; there were infinite impenetrable layers of shared history behind his words. A whole world that had nothing whatsoever to do with her or her sister. An emptiness opened up inside her, an out-of-placeness, and she felt almost as though she was about to cry. But just at that moment they heard the front door bang shut and a male voice and then Leo burst into the room and immediately the mood changed and the tension lifted. ‘Hello, cherubs!’ He kissed Fern on the crown of her head and threw his arms around Catkin and spun her around. ‘Hello, Dylan, old man. How are you?’ He greeted Dylan with a man-hug and a firm pat on the back which Dylan appeared to relish. ‘And you two.’ He smiled from Grace to Pip and back again. ‘Apologies: I can’t quite remember which is which, you’re so similar. Pip?’ He pointed at Pip and she nodded, blushed slightly and Leo said, ‘Phew!’ wiping his forehead.
‘Where’s Wills?’ he asked then, looking around the room.
‘She’s in her room with Tyler.’
‘And Puppy?’
‘Sleeping,’ said Catkin. ‘How come you’re home from work so early?’
He flung himself down on the sofa beside Fern and kicked off his shoes. ‘I got bored,’ he said. ‘Kept thinking of my family all loafing about at home in the sunshine and couldn’t bear not being part of it. So’ – he switched his attention to Pip and Grace – ‘how are you two getting on in our garden? Do you like it?’
Pip nodded effusively. ‘It’s really good,’ she said.
‘How about you, Grace? How do you like it here?’
Grace shrugged and forced a smile. ‘It’s OK,’ she said.
‘Good,’ he said. Then he slapped his hands on to his knees and said, ‘Right, well, I suppose I’d better go and check on dear old Puppy. Make sure he’s still all in one piece.’
‘Or alive,’ said Catkin.
Leo smiled. ‘Yes. That too.’
He left the room and Pip saw Grace follow him with her eyes. She turned to see what her sister was seeing: a middle-aged man in coloured trousers and a rumpled blue shirt, very slim, nice brown hair, curls of which covered the nape of his neck. He walked with a looseness in his joints, as though his cartilage was made of rubber bands. He walked, she thought, like a teenager.
‘Can I use your toilet?’ Pip asked Fern, suddenly curious to see what lay beyond the door of the living room.
‘Yeah, sure,’ said Fern, ‘it’s in the hallway, by the front door.’
The hallway was high-ceilinged with grey-green walls and black and white encaustic floor tiles. The internal front door, with its panels of glowing stained glass, was ahead of her, and the kitchen to her right.
‘Hello, Pip!’ said Adele who was sitting at the kitchen table reading a pile of paper with a pen in her hand and black-framed reading glasses on. ‘You OK?’
‘Just going to the toilet,’ she said.
‘Oh, OK, but don’t use the one in the hallway, it doesn’t flush properly. Use the one in the bathroom, over there.’ She pointed at the other end of the hallway. ‘Second door on the right.’
‘Thank you,’ Pip said, smiling widely.
There were numerous doors off this part of the hallway. She peered through them as she passed. The first had walls painted dark red, curtains drawn, bed unmade; she heard the scratch of small claws against plastic and thought it must be Fern’s room. Opposite this was another bedroom. Here the curtains were open and there was a view across the gardens. A neatly made single bed, clothes hanging from a free-standing rail, inspirational posters on the wall – sunsets and dolphins – this must be Catkin’s room. Then came the bathroom, and beyond that three more doors. Pip looked behind her, checking she was out of view of Adele sitting in the kitchen. The door at the far end was open
Pip couldn’t work out if he was being defensive or explanatory. Either way she felt strangely put out by the intimate tone of his explanation; there were infinite impenetrable layers of shared history behind his words. A whole world that had nothing whatsoever to do with her or her sister. An emptiness opened up inside her, an out-of-placeness, and she felt almost as though she was about to cry. But just at that moment they heard the front door bang shut and a male voice and then Leo burst into the room and immediately the mood changed and the tension lifted. ‘Hello, cherubs!’ He kissed Fern on the crown of her head and threw his arms around Catkin and spun her around. ‘Hello, Dylan, old man. How are you?’ He greeted Dylan with a man-hug and a firm pat on the back which Dylan appeared to relish. ‘And you two.’ He smiled from Grace to Pip and back again. ‘Apologies: I can’t quite remember which is which, you’re so similar. Pip?’ He pointed at Pip and she nodded, blushed slightly and Leo said, ‘Phew!’ wiping his forehead.
‘Where’s Wills?’ he asked then, looking around the room.
‘She’s in her room with Tyler.’
‘And Puppy?’
‘Sleeping,’ said Catkin. ‘How come you’re home from work so early?’
He flung himself down on the sofa beside Fern and kicked off his shoes. ‘I got bored,’ he said. ‘Kept thinking of my family all loafing about at home in the sunshine and couldn’t bear not being part of it. So’ – he switched his attention to Pip and Grace – ‘how are you two getting on in our garden? Do you like it?’
Pip nodded effusively. ‘It’s really good,’ she said.
‘How about you, Grace? How do you like it here?’
Grace shrugged and forced a smile. ‘It’s OK,’ she said.
‘Good,’ he said. Then he slapped his hands on to his knees and said, ‘Right, well, I suppose I’d better go and check on dear old Puppy. Make sure he’s still all in one piece.’
‘Or alive,’ said Catkin.
Leo smiled. ‘Yes. That too.’
He left the room and Pip saw Grace follow him with her eyes. She turned to see what her sister was seeing: a middle-aged man in coloured trousers and a rumpled blue shirt, very slim, nice brown hair, curls of which covered the nape of his neck. He walked with a looseness in his joints, as though his cartilage was made of rubber bands. He walked, she thought, like a teenager.
‘Can I use your toilet?’ Pip asked Fern, suddenly curious to see what lay beyond the door of the living room.
‘Yeah, sure,’ said Fern, ‘it’s in the hallway, by the front door.’
The hallway was high-ceilinged with grey-green walls and black and white encaustic floor tiles. The internal front door, with its panels of glowing stained glass, was ahead of her, and the kitchen to her right.
‘Hello, Pip!’ said Adele who was sitting at the kitchen table reading a pile of paper with a pen in her hand and black-framed reading glasses on. ‘You OK?’
‘Just going to the toilet,’ she said.
‘Oh, OK, but don’t use the one in the hallway, it doesn’t flush properly. Use the one in the bathroom, over there.’ She pointed at the other end of the hallway. ‘Second door on the right.’
‘Thank you,’ Pip said, smiling widely.
There were numerous doors off this part of the hallway. She peered through them as she passed. The first had walls painted dark red, curtains drawn, bed unmade; she heard the scratch of small claws against plastic and thought it must be Fern’s room. Opposite this was another bedroom. Here the curtains were open and there was a view across the gardens. A neatly made single bed, clothes hanging from a free-standing rail, inspirational posters on the wall – sunsets and dolphins – this must be Catkin’s room. Then came the bathroom, and beyond that three more doors. Pip looked behind her, checking she was out of view of Adele sitting in the kitchen. The door at the far end was open
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