The Secret Life of Evie Hamilton - Catherine Alliott [103]
‘Oh Lord, I'm so sorry. How stupid of me!’
‘Don't worry, these things happen.’
‘But what about the last one,’ I wailed. ‘Mrs Purée? Mrs Mason's eaten all her prunes!’
‘We'll go to McDonald's and get her a strawberry milkshake and some ice cream. She'll love it. Oh, and a few chips to suck. Perfect.’
‘Right,’ I agreed faintly.
When we'd delivered the fish to its rightful owner we did just that, and Mrs Purée did indeed seem to love it, greeting her more than usually decorative polystyrene box enthusiastically.
‘Ooh, look at that lovely clown's face on the top. A Happy Meal, it says.’ She opened it. ‘Oh, look, a robot!’
‘Yes, for your… grandson,’ purred Felicity.
‘Marvellous, I'll keep it for him. Thank you, my dears.’
One satisfied customer at least. Albeit with quite a lot of sugar and additives inside her.
‘I'm so sorry, Felicity,’ I muttered as we drove home. God, I couldn't even get that right.
‘Oh don't worry, it's easily done,’ she smiled. ‘Your ma's got them muddled up once or twice too.’
Yes, I bet she had. Like mother, like daughter. Hopeless. And actually I was exhausted. Needed a little lie-down. Forty winks, as Mum would say. Felicity was consulting her watch.
‘Perfect. Well, we may have been erratic, but we were quick. I'm in bags of time.’
‘For?’ I turned my head wearily towards her on the head rest.
‘I'm delivering a lecture on the microbiotic principles of dormant white blood cells at Keble in ten minutes.’
Of course you are. I faced front again. Shook my head in wonder. She dropped me back at the Civic Centre beside my car. I got out, then stuck my head back in.
‘I think you're marvellous, Felicity. Absolutely marvellous.’
‘Oh, no.’ She gave a faint smile, shifting into first. ‘I can assure you, Evie, I'm not.’
And off she went.
Later, much later, on the other side of Oxford, a typically quiet evening unfolded at number 22 Walton Terrace. I was sorting through a pile of odd socks at the bottom of the laundry basket in front of the tiny television in the sitting room, the sound turned down low. Anna was in the far corner on her computer, Ant was in his study. After a bit, he came through to join me, Mozart's Clarinet Concerto wafting out after him through his open study door. I instinctively reached for the remote and hit the television mute button. He took his glasses off; sat on the footstool in front of me, coming between me and Corrie.
‘I've just had an email from Stacey.’
‘Oh?’ I glanced up from my basket.
‘She's asked us all up to Sheffield, after the summer holidays. At half-term.’
I stared at him. ‘Ah.’
‘Not for all of half-term, just a couple of days.’
‘To stay with them? In their house?’
‘Yes.’ His eyes were steady. Kind. My heart began to pound. I was aware of Anna, her back rigid, as she listened in the corner on her computer, hand frozen on the mouse.
‘All of us? Or just you and Anna?’
‘All of us. What should I say?’
I took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. ‘Say yes. Yes, we'd love to come.’
He smiled, leaned forward and kissed me.
‘Thank you, darling.’
My heart was leaping in my throat now, like a salmon, and it had nothing to do with Ken and Deirdre Barlow sharing a tender moment in a quiet corner of the Rovers Return. Ant went back to his study.
Later that evening, as I was drawing my bath, Anna came to find me.
‘Thank you, Mum.’ She put her arms round me from behind and squeezed me tight. A lump rose in my throat as I turned the taps off. I couldn't answer her. As I turned to face her, she stepped back and looked at me.
‘I know this is really hard for you, must be really hard for you, and I know I was a bit over-the-top the other day, but I just want you to know, what you're doing here is seriously awesome.’
I took her in my arms. She rested her head on mine. ‘Thanks, darling. Respect?’
‘Oh God, yes. Respect.’
20
The Hamilton family were driving north. The early hours of the morning