jam or marmalade. They’re a much safer bet.’
‘Maybe, Luke, you could have a look online to see whether we can get the peanut butter and jelly for Alice,’ says Mum as I come back with my sister’s drink.
‘I’m sure we’ve got something Alice will like,’ I say. Luke really doesn’t need to go off on a wild-goose chase for Alice’s American tastes. He’s very obliging towards Mum, but sometimes I think she takes it for granted. I return to the cupboard and start pulling out various jars, the clonk of the glass on the granite work surface representing my irritation. ‘Marmalade. Nutella. Honey.’ I turn to look at Alice.
‘Er, honey will be great,’ she says, flicking a glance towards Luke.
‘Local honey,’ he says, passing the jar over to her. Then, turning, he gives me the eyes, which I return with a shrug and then feel rather embarrassed that my little display of frustration hasn’t gone unnoticed by all the adults in the room.
Fortunately, Mum recovers the situation and starts chatting about the day ahead and what we’re going to do. I brush my little display of petulance away with the toast crumbs and join in the conversation.
Alice seems happy with the plan and is pleased that we are all going out together. ‘Oh, it will be like a proper family outing. Our first real one. One that I can remember, anyway.’
Mum smiles warmly. ‘I can’t tell you how I’ve longed for a day like this.’
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