floats your boat,’ said Matt, scratching the mongrel behind the ears. Milo wagged appreciatively. The dog was such a tart.
‘I thought you were going to get on with the floor?’
‘Mañana.’
Susie laughed. ‘I thought you were working in Italy not Spain.’
‘I think you’ll find the mañana principle is pretty much universal.’
On the other side of the kitchen, Jack groaned. ‘Oh that’s right, bloody typical, the three of you bugger off and leave me with all the clearing up.’
Susie smiled and slipped on her walking shoes. ‘See, there is a god. I knew that one day all those years of running around after you would pay off and there would be a break-even point. You should have cleaned your room up, come home on time and not bitten your sister. It’s karma.’
‘Where are we going?’ asked Matt, rolling down his shirtsleeves.
She turned her attention to him. ‘You can only come with me if you promise not to give me a lecture on the nature of relationships, ask how I am or try to counsel me. Oh, or mention getting in touch with your inner woman.’
Matt mimed pain. ‘Owwwww.’
‘I’m serious. The paella was wonderful; I really appreciate your cooking. I’ve had an excellent day after a difficult start and if at all possible I’d like to keep it that way.’
Matt mimed lip-zipping.
It was tempting fate.
Susie had barely snapped Milo’s lead on when the phone rang. She decided to ignore it and continued on her way outside, Milo dancing behind her, Matt meandering.
‘Phone,’ called Jack, as if she might have missed it.
‘It’s okay – the machine will get it, and if it’s important they’ll ring back,’ said Susie, over one shoulder. And if it was Robert she didn’t want him to think she was sitting at home pining, waiting for him to call.
Jack didn’t listen. When she was halfway down the garden path, he appeared, hurrying after her, phone clutched tight against his chest. ‘Mum?’
‘Take a message, I’ll ring them later.’
‘It’s Alice.’
‘I’ll be half an hour.’
‘She said it was urgent.’
‘Is it ever anything else?’ said Susie, turning on her heel and grabbing the phone out of his hand. ‘Alice,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t know what it is you want, darling, but I’m just going out, I won’t be long. I’ll ring you back in half an hour. All right?’
‘No, no, it’s not all right,’ snuffled Alice. And then there was a split second’s pause, followed by a great wailing sob. Susie winced. Trust Alice to turn the tables on her. The one time in her life that she was being as assertive and as grumpy as her only daughter and Alice had to trump her ace.
Jack was right, it had to be something serious. Since she’d been a little girl Alice had hardly ever cried unless there was a furry animal involved. As a teenager she’d been banned from watching Animal Hospital in order to save Scandinavian pine forests from being pulped into tissue, not to mention going to school the next day with eyes so swollen that the school nurse had suggested she might be suffering from some sort of nasty allergy.
At the far end of the line the wailing was slowly easing down to a snotty miserable sob.
‘Oh Alice – is it the baby?’
‘No, no –’ sobbed Alice. ‘The baby’s fine.’
‘It’s not Mr Tiddles, is it?’ asked Susie gently.
Matt peered at her; Susie covered the receiver. ‘Next door’s cat,’ she mouthed.
At the far end of the line the wail rose by an octave.
‘Oh honey, I’m so very sorry, I know how much you loved him,’ said Susie, ‘but you said yourself he was old and frail and a bit smelly.’
‘That’s Harry.’
‘Harry?’
‘Mr Tiddles’ owner, and besides it’s not the cat, Mum, and anyway I’m not letting him in the flat now that I’m pregnant. I’m feeding him on the landing wearing Marigolds.’
‘Are we talking about Mr Tiddles or Harry?’
‘It’s not funny. They carry something nasty.’
‘In Mr Tiddles’ case he’s carrying about a stone and a half of tinned pilchards and way too much full-cream milk. I’ve told you before it’s not good for him.’
‘I don’t mean fat, Mother, I mean toxoplasmosis. It can be dangerous for pregnant women. It’s just not worth taking the risk. You never take anything I say seriously, do you?’ Alice growled.
‘Alice, of course I do. Now please tell me, what’s the matter?’ she asked gently. ‘It’s not like you to get upset.’
At which point Alice started to sob again.
‘Oh come on, darling, please,’ murmured Susie. ‘What is it? It’s all right, you can tell me.’
Alice sniffed. ‘It’s Adam.’
Susie felt her heart lurch. ‘Adam? Oh no, oh, Alice, why didn’t you say so to begin with – what happened? Is he all right?’
‘No,’ Alice sobbed. ‘No, he’s not all right, not all right at all. Oh Mum, it’s awful. What on earth am I going to do?’
‘Oh my god, has there been an accident?’ Susie asked anxiously, while her imagination ran amuck with chainsaws, knitting needles, sharp scissors, elderly cats, stairwells, motorways and uncovered manholes in a graphic collage of carnage. ‘What’s the matter with him, Alice?’
‘He’s a moron, Mum, a complete moron and an insensitive, stupid pig and I hate him.’
Susie stopped mid-panic, her imagination scuttering to a halt clutching a badly wired plug and a huge screwdriver. ‘What?’
‘Adam. He’s a complete bastard.’
‘He’s not had an accident?’
‘No,’ said Alice derisively, ‘of course he hasn’t had an accident. What on earth made you think that? No, but the thing is, since I’ve been pregnant he’s just being so unreasonable. I never realised what a totally insensitive person he is.’
Milo sighed, lay down on the flagstones and closed his eyes. Matt took the hint and made his way back towards the house. Susie sat down on the garden bench and repositioned the phone to get herself comfortable. ‘As long as he’s all right, that’s the main thing.’
‘It’s
