me for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Like it’s somehow her fault for only looking about twenty-one, tops.
‘Monique is a student at the school,’ Jake casually chats on. ‘She’s from Catalonia, but doing great at the aul’ English, aren’t you Monique? Improving in leaps and bounds.’
‘Every day, me Engleeesh get better a leetle bit,’ she says huskily, as Jake nudges her playfully and I catch a tiny, adoring glance as she grins back up at him.
And even in the throes of my panic, even though it’s just the tiniest gesture, I feel I’m witnessing a burgeoning intimacy between them. Again, which shouldn’t bother me, but does. Your English is improving? I think cattily. Yeah, right. You sound like you’ve just been translated by Google.
And now Jake is looking expectantly from me to Helen, patiently waiting to be introduced.
F**k. Which means it’s my turn. And there’s no getting out of this now.
‘Emm … Well, this is Jake,’ I say to Helen, hoping she’ll correctly interpret the hot red panic in my eyes. That fraught, urgent look that I hope says, nod, smile, shut up and let’s get us – and more importantly Lily – out of here.
‘… And this is Helen,’ I tack on, ‘my sister.’
Helen’s eyes light up with recognition as she shakes hands with him and Monique while Jake beams even wider, suddenly realising just who she is.
‘Well, I think I owe you a massive thank you,’ he tells her kindly, the big eyes twinkling warmly down at her, ‘did you know that I’m lucky enough to be staying in that lovely flat of yours?’
A quick, panicky look from me, but there’s absolutely no need. Helen doesn’t let me down and chats away easily about how happy she is that he’s settling in, stressing that if he ever has any trouble with the stopcock in the loo or the water pump under the sink, to call her immediately. Not for the first time, I find myself offering up a silent prayer of thanks at Helen’s easy, natural way of bonding with total strangers over the tiniest thing, in this case immersion heaters and the lagging jacket on the boiler. On and on they chat about the flat, Jake filling her in on all the improvements he’s done and is doing, while I surreptitiously swivel round to check on Lily.
It’s okay. So far, I think I’m just about okay. She’s playing happily away with her new little pal about six feet behind me, her back to us, totally oblivious, not noticing anything and not running over to me yelling, ‘look at me, Mama!’ every two seconds, like she normally would.
Which is good. Which is great. Which means I might just get out of this alive, look back and if not laugh, then at least be able to breathe normally again, oooh, in about a decade’s time or so.
A moment later, I’m aware that all small talk has quietly petered out and everyone’s looking at me, so I pre-empt yet another bowel-clenchingly awkward silence by starting to pack up my bag.
‘Well, sorry about this everyone,’ I laugh hysterically, my voice getting higher and higher in direct proportion to how anxious I am, ‘but I’ve really, really got to get …’
‘Back to the office, let me take a wild guess,’ Jake smiles and I totally overreact by guffawing like a nutter.
‘No worries at all,’ he says, looking at me so keenly it makes me wonder just how he’s interpreting my uneasiness. ‘Monique and I have a class anyway, so we’d better make a move too.’
‘Sure! Well, have a great class, don’t let me keep you!’
Not a word out of Monique, just a curt nod and a toothy smile, so I’m guessing she’s badly in need of a few English phrases to get her by. Mind you, I think cattily, to the Moniques of this world who go around the place looking like Brazilian underwear models, I’m guessing your body language does most of the talking for you, particularly around guys.
‘Well lovely to meet you, goodbye now!’ I call out gaily, bag in hand, all ready to rock and roll.
‘I’ll give you a call, Eloise,’ Jake smiles kindly at me. ‘Hey, maybe we can meet up this weekend? Have a drink or a bite to eat, if you’d like? Knowing you, you’ll only eat a packet of birdseed and a banana to do you till Monday morning otherwise.’
‘Emm, well … You see …’
Can’t think straight, can’t answer him, can’t do a shagging thing.
‘Don’t worry,’ he grins easily, ‘I’ll be in touch.’
Then he turns to Helen and warmly says how lovely it was to finally meet her. ‘Heard a lot about you.’
Oh for Christ’s sake, enough with the bloody social niceties, just go, for the love of God, GO …
‘Likewise,’ Helen smiles back, shooting a discreet, ‘you don’t know the half of it’ look to me.
They’ve almost gone, almost, I’m nearly out of the woods, when next thing, out of nowhere – disaster.
Lily, seeing me with my bag strapped to me, immediately cops on that I’m leaving and runs over to me as fast as her pudgy little legs will carry her.
No, no, no, no, no, no, noooooooooooo …
‘Don’t go … PLEASE!’ she yells at me, while I bend down to her, hysterically trying to signal to a toddler not to call me Mama, please not now, just not now, just this one time, just not for the next two minutes, just till they’re gone.
‘I have a new fwiend!’ she grins toothlessly up at me, ‘AN … you have to say hello! Her name is Hannah.’
‘Well goodbye then!’ I say to Jake and The Girl from Ipanema, wishing, willing them to get the hell out of here. Just for the love of God, LEAVE. PLEASE. NOW.
But I’m out of luck.
Next thing, Jake is kneeling down to talk to Lily, so he’s on a level with her.
‘Well hello there, little lady,’ he grins at her while she looks up at him, mesmerised. ‘What’s your name?’
And suddenly it’s as though no air moves.
All I can do is look on, utterly helpless and dumbstruck, imagining that I see a flicker of something in his face … recognition?
Oh Christ, now my knees are physically starting to buckle.
‘Lily though weally it’s Lily Lilibet Emily,’ she tells him seriously, looking at him, totally fascinated.
Jesus, the resemblance between them is so strong it would almost knock your breath away.
Same eyes, skin, hair colour, build … It’s astonishing.
Helen has copped it too; I know by the gobsmacked, shell-shocked look on her face.
Jake MUST notice it, he can’t not. It’s not possible that he doesn’t see how alike they are …
Meanwhile I’m rooted to the spot, lantern-jawed, horrified, unable to say or do anything except stand there
