The Way We Were_ A Novel - Marcia Willett [21]
‘You looked so surprised,’ Julia tells her later, chuckling – and Tiggy grimaces guiltily.
‘You might have warned me,’ she says.
Aunt Em, wearing Levi jeans and a navy-blue Guernsey, doesn't look like anyone's aunt: very slender, very tall, with straight, fine ash-coloured hair, she has a bred-in-the-bone elegance and a charm that immediately captivates. The twins fall upon her with cries of joy whilst Charlie, corralled in his playpen, stamps round and round, clinging to the rail and roaring with frustration. Aunt Em kisses Andy and Liv, passes them a package each and goes to the playpen.
‘May I?’ she asks Julia – and then, lifting him out, she swings Charlie up and up, high, into the air while he chuckles with delight. She sets him down again gently, then quickly, before he can protest, produces a small soft toy: a black and white penguin whose beak and huge feet are the colour of egg yolks. He sits quite still, turning the toy in his hands, examining it closely.
‘Crayons!’ shriek the twins, wrapping paper all over the floor. ‘Colouring books!’ and they run into the kitchen and scramble up at the kitchen table with their presents.
Aunt Em gives Tiggy a little wink. ‘That'll keep them quiet for a moment,’ she says. ‘Long enough for us to say hello, at least.’ She holds out her hand. ‘I'm Em and you're Tiggy. Or should we be very formal and call ourselves Emily and …’ a little hesitation, ‘Tegan, is it?’
‘Tiggy will do just fine.’ She takes Em's thin hand. ‘Only my grandmother calls me Tegan these days.’
‘That's rather a pity. It's an unusual name.’
‘It translates as “beautiful” or “blessed”. I prefer Tiggy.’
And I prefer Em.’ The older woman smiles but there is a more searching scrutiny hidden behind the smile, as if she is making some connection at a deeper level, and Tiggy's clasp involuntarily tightens before she releases Em's hand. ‘And this is Archie.’
Archie is definitely uncle material and Tiggy greets him almost with relief. His thick silver hair brushes the low heavily beamed ceiling, and he ducks his head automatically. He has a broad-shouldered, bear-like quality, exaggerated by his Norwegian jersey and baggy cords, and Tiggy is seized by an odd desire to throw herself and all her problems and fears into his arms. He looks so capable, so calm – rather like a much older Tom, she suddenly realizes.
His greeting is friendly, if slightly preoccupied, and, as soon as he relinquishes her hand, he returns to his conversation with Julia, which has to do with some damp on the ceiling in Charlie's bedroom.
‘I'll go up and take a look,’ he says, ‘while the kettle boils,’ and disappears up the stairs.
Tiggy watches him go, turns to see Em studying her curiously and is visited by the familiar anxiety of the attractive young girl when confronted by an older and possibly jealous woman.
‘Neither of you is the least bit how I'd imagined,’ she says quickly. ‘Do you do that? Make menial pictures of people you're going to meet?’
Em chuckles. ‘I always do it and I am invariably wrong. So how did you see us? Rather elderly and wizened, wearing shabby but well-cut tweeds and being kind but firm with the children?’
Tiggy bursts out laughing. ‘Well, I did, if you want the truth. Julia might have warned me.’
‘So she might if she'd thought about it. Julia's too used to us by now. What a darling she is! Pete is so lucky. I'm very glad she's got you to keep her company while he's at sea.’
‘I'm lucky too,’ mutters Tiggy, suddenly confused, wondering how much Em knows. Julia has promised that nobody else knows the truth but Tiggy instinctively guesses that it would be foolish to underestimate this woman's intelligence.
Julia appears. ‘Is it OK if we have tea round the kitchen