what are you doing?’ Pru had come in from the hallway.
Belinda threw her arms round Francis’s neck and chanted, ‘I am under the spell of the mighty sea god, Frankie. There is nothing I can do …’ And she slid down Francis’s thighs and draped herself about his knees.
Connie hooted with laughter.
Pru felt that peculiar draught catch her heart again. Noticing the change in her expression, Francis quickly took off the shells and stepped over the prostrate Belinda towards his wife. ‘Pru, Belinda is just showing us some of the stuff she got for Abi’s party.’
Belinda stood up.
‘I’ve decided on a sea-fairy theme. Green, blue and pink. Wait till you see the lights and candles and costumes I’ve bought!’
‘Abi’s not keen on pink,’ Connie ventured.
‘Not keen on pink!’ Belinda shook her head disbelievingly. ‘Every girl loves pink. Get me a cold drink would you, Con? It’s so hot. Is Abi in?’
Connie was at the fridge, pouring a beaker of juice. She put it into Belinda’s outstretched hand.
‘Oh, that’s better. Thank you.’
‘Abi’s not home yet. I’m expecting her around six-ish.’
‘Right, I’ll wait for her. What’s for tea? I’ll help you make it. You don’t mind me and Emily joining you, do you?’
Connie had no say in the matter. Before she knew it, Belinda was knocking up a bolognese sauce and leaving a trail of saucepans for Connie to wash up.
*
‘Belinda! I love it! It’s going to look amazing. Isn’t she clever, Mum?’ Abi had come in from work more animated than Connie had seen her in ages. All the family were watching as Belinda pulled out one extraordinary thing after another.
‘Yes,’ said Connie, wanly, trying to clear the table and lay it up for eight. ‘So clever. I didn’t think you liked pink.’
‘Pppffff! Of course I like pink! Who doesn’t! Honestly, Mum, where did you get that idea from!’
‘Oh, you know your mother,’ said Greg, standing over Belinda and topping up her glass while trying to get a good gander down her cleavage. ‘She’s very good at getting the wrong end of the stick.’
‘I am not,’ huffed Connie.
‘Yes, you are,’ chorused Abi, Greg and Pru.
Connie felt crushed. She had to dig the nails of her right hand into the palm of her left to stop herself from crying.
‘Can I help you dish up, Con?’ asked Francis kindly.
Eventually everybody was seated and munching their supper.
‘This spaghetti bolognese is delicious,’ said Francis, smiling at Belinda.
‘One of my own recipes, Frankie. Glad you like it,’ shrieked a wine-filled Belinda. ‘I’ll give it to you, if you like?’ she leered.
Greg laughed raucously. ‘Ooh, now that’s a promise I couldn’t turn down, Francis! Ha ha ha.’
Connie turned to him. ‘Sit down, Greg. You’ve had too much wine.’
‘Yes, and you, Francis. I think you’ve had quite enough.’ Pru looked sternly across the table at him.
‘I’ve only had one glass.’
‘Yes, but after all that fresh air today, it’s gone to your head.’ Pru stood up decisively and put the bottles of open wine away. ‘Thank you, Belinda, for a lovely supper. I’m sure you need to get Emily to bed.’
‘But it’s almost nine …’
‘Quite,’ said Pru determinedly.
‘Oh. I see.’ Belinda stood up, ‘Come on, Emily. We need to leave the family to themselves and get back to Dairy Cottage.’
‘I was going to watch TV with Abi and Jem.’ Emily couldn’t hide her disappointment.
Belinda was gathering up bags and bits. ‘You must always leave people wanting more. Never overstay the hospitality of others. Now come on.’
They left and the room was instantly quieter.
Pru started to stack the plates. ‘Thank God she’s gone.’
‘Storms are still battering the Eastern Seaboard of the United States,’ said the breakfast television newscaster. ‘Several hundred families have been evacuated from their homes after a second night without electricity. This report from our Washington correspondent …’
Henry and Dorothy watched the footage of distraught householders, looking on helplessly as their houses and possessions were swept away by the raging torrent.
‘They should be grateful they don’t have Merlin as their plumber,’ said Dorothy. ‘Poor devils.’
‘They keep promising us a hooley blowing in on this side of the Atlantic, but we’ve been lucky so far.’
Dorothy smiled at him. ‘It’s been a pretty good summer, hasn’t it? Apart from the flood next door and the various injuries sustained by the boys.’
Henry chuckled. ‘Bloody useless, the lot of them. Still, they have got the house back in order. And the moron Merlin should be finished by the end of today.’
‘Are you really going to make the kids pay?’
Dorothy and Henry always referred to their grown-up daughters as ‘the kids’.
‘Well, I might chip in. I’ll nip over later and take a look at what kind of job Merlin’s made of it.’
‘He’ll know you’re checking up on him.’
‘I have a plan.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’m taking the iPad – that way I can pretend that I need the kids to help me with it.’
‘Very good, Sherlock.’
‘I want an email address. Where do you get one from?’
Dorothy gave a dry laugh. ‘How should I know? Ask Jem or Abi. They’ve got good brains on them. They’ll get you one.’
*
‘Hey, Poppa!’ Abi had reached the cliff-path gate and was letting herself into the garden.
‘Hello. How was work today?’
‘Knackering!’
He
