and drapedit on the bed across the fidgeting little heap that was Matthew’s feet. The jacket was a trusty standby, a well-shaped old friend with a flattering Nehru collar. ‘Well, they’re going to get some kind of impression of me the second I walk in. I don’t want to have a “near-menopausal suburban frump” sign flashing over my head. The person in charge would be pointing me at the mid-calf box-pleat skirts and gold-button blazers.’
‘Selfridge’s don’t have that kind of thing any more. You should take me with you. See what they can come up with for a man of newly acquired endless leisure.’ He hauled himself up from the depths of the duvet and yawned. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’
Jess laughed. ‘Ask one of the girls. They should be up by now.’
As if she’d been waiting outside for her cue, Natasha slid into the room. She had her purple satin dressing gown wrapped tightly round her and her body was contorted in an attitude of exaggerated agony.
‘It’s not fair! We’ve got an inset day and I feel terrible!’
‘Insect day?’ Matthew looked at her with his head on one side like an appealingly dim budgie.
‘You know, teachers catching up with their own curriculum, that kind of thing,’ Jess explained. To Natasha she said, ‘Nobody told me you had a day off. What’s the matter? Do you feel feverish?’ She put her hand on Natasha’s forehead. It felt cool enough, though her skin was a bit clammy.
‘Nah, just a period, just the usual,’ Natasha groaned and sat down heavily on the bed, bending forward so her head was on her knee.
‘Oh women’s stuff.’ Matthew waved a dismissal ather. ‘Imagine if all we men went wobbly once a month.’
Natasha looked up and stared at him, then at Jess, and the two of them laughed. ‘Imagine!’ they said together.
‘Mum, if I take some paracetamol and if I feel better, can I come out with you? Please? I really can’t face doing maths.’
Jess hesitated. Natasha was looking particularly vulnerable. If she said no, the poor girl would probably burst into tears. On the other hand, a teenager, especially one of changeable and hormonally unstable mood, might not be the best companion for her first proper assignment as a roving journalist.
‘OK,’ she agreed eventually. ‘But on condition you are quiet and polite and remember that this is my job, not just a jolly outing. You have to promise not to strop and absolutely definitely not to show me up.’
‘OK I promise. And if I’m really good will you buy me something? Please? Just something little, and really really cheap?’ Natasha was doing her best to look her most persuasive.
Jess looked at the heart-shaped little face, the huge eyes that silently pleaded ‘pamper me’. She remembered period pains; at her school they not only didn’t get you off games but earned you an extra run round the hockey pitch. Her mother had told her they were a trial run for childbirth and there’d been times, when she was about fourteen and whimpering on her bedroom floor clutching a hot-water bottle to her middle, when she’d wondered why anyone had children at all if this was only the half of it.
‘Maybe,’ she conceded to Natasha. ‘It depends.’ Too late, Jess realized she’d given the answer that anyteenage girl would translate as a ‘yes’ so definite it rated on the same level as a sworn affidavit.
Matthew groaned from the depths of the duvet. ‘You’ll regret saying that,’ he predicted. ‘She’ll scorch your credit card.’ Natasha, triumphant, padded out of the room and down the stairs to get ready. Jess turned back to the wardrobe. Somewhere in there must be the skirt that went perfectly with the blue Jigsaw jacket.
‘What did she say?’ Zoe was already up and dressed and in the kitchen raiding the fridge and the cupboard for food supplies to get her through the day. Emily’s school out in the Oxfordshire sticks might be pretty easy-going in some ways but they might draw the
‘Selfridge’s don’t have that kind of thing any more. You should take me with you. See what they can come up with for a man of newly acquired endless leisure.’ He hauled himself up from the depths of the duvet and yawned. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’
Jess laughed. ‘Ask one of the girls. They should be up by now.’
As if she’d been waiting outside for her cue, Natasha slid into the room. She had her purple satin dressing gown wrapped tightly round her and her body was contorted in an attitude of exaggerated agony.
‘It’s not fair! We’ve got an inset day and I feel terrible!’
‘Insect day?’ Matthew looked at her with his head on one side like an appealingly dim budgie.
‘You know, teachers catching up with their own curriculum, that kind of thing,’ Jess explained. To Natasha she said, ‘Nobody told me you had a day off. What’s the matter? Do you feel feverish?’ She put her hand on Natasha’s forehead. It felt cool enough, though her skin was a bit clammy.
‘Nah, just a period, just the usual,’ Natasha groaned and sat down heavily on the bed, bending forward so her head was on her knee.
‘Oh women’s stuff.’ Matthew waved a dismissal ather. ‘Imagine if all we men went wobbly once a month.’
Natasha looked up and stared at him, then at Jess, and the two of them laughed. ‘Imagine!’ they said together.
‘Mum, if I take some paracetamol and if I feel better, can I come out with you? Please? I really can’t face doing maths.’
Jess hesitated. Natasha was looking particularly vulnerable. If she said no, the poor girl would probably burst into tears. On the other hand, a teenager, especially one of changeable and hormonally unstable mood, might not be the best companion for her first proper assignment as a roving journalist.
‘OK,’ she agreed eventually. ‘But on condition you are quiet and polite and remember that this is my job, not just a jolly outing. You have to promise not to strop and absolutely definitely not to show me up.’
‘OK I promise. And if I’m really good will you buy me something? Please? Just something little, and really really cheap?’ Natasha was doing her best to look her most persuasive.
Jess looked at the heart-shaped little face, the huge eyes that silently pleaded ‘pamper me’. She remembered period pains; at her school they not only didn’t get you off games but earned you an extra run round the hockey pitch. Her mother had told her they were a trial run for childbirth and there’d been times, when she was about fourteen and whimpering on her bedroom floor clutching a hot-water bottle to her middle, when she’d wondered why anyone had children at all if this was only the half of it.
‘Maybe,’ she conceded to Natasha. ‘It depends.’ Too late, Jess realized she’d given the answer that anyteenage girl would translate as a ‘yes’ so definite it rated on the same level as a sworn affidavit.
Matthew groaned from the depths of the duvet. ‘You’ll regret saying that,’ he predicted. ‘She’ll scorch your credit card.’ Natasha, triumphant, padded out of the room and down the stairs to get ready. Jess turned back to the wardrobe. Somewhere in there must be the skirt that went perfectly with the blue Jigsaw jacket.
‘What did she say?’ Zoe was already up and dressed and in the kitchen raiding the fridge and the cupboard for food supplies to get her through the day. Emily’s school out in the Oxfordshire sticks might be pretty easy-going in some ways but they might draw the
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