probably.’
‘Well, it could be hard for him too,’ Emma put in. ‘Even though he’s known about it all along.’
‘Mum does talk about Daniel rather a lot. Can’t wait to meet him, see what all the fuss is about.’ Lucy’s face was alight with anticipation.
‘Me too,’ Marsha agreed.
‘He’ll be a twat.’
Lucy sighed. ‘Here we go … It’s you that looks like the twat, Ed, having a mood every time his name’s mentioned. Especially as you haven’t even met him.’
‘Yeah … don’t do this, Eddie. You’ll just upset Mum, and even if Daniel’s grim – which I accept he may well be, of course – Mum doesn’t deserve you being antsy about him. Especially if Dad’s a bit wound up by it all. It isn’t her fault this guy’s popped up out of nowhere.’
Emma nodded in vigorous agreement with her friend’s words.
‘OK, I get it.’ He stared back at the three stern faces and frowned. ‘I’ll try and behave, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him.’
Ed just didn’t understand why they were so eager to welcome a complete stranger into the family. He remembered the Prodigal Son story from RS at school. He’d always thought it grossly unfair, even as a child: one son at home slogging his guts out for little thanks, then the other one rocks up, a full-on no-good waster, and the father brings out the fatted calf. He couldn’t remember the details – or even the point of the story now – but it rang bells with this Daniel fellow.
‘You never know, you might surprise yourself,’ Marsha was telling him.
As Annie took the short walk to Hampstead Heath that Saturday, she rejoiced in the warm sunshine, the light breeze, the scent of pollen: new life slowly blossoming around her. She was always anxious about getting cold – she blamed her low blood pressure – and today, despite the temperate weather, she wore a fitted tan suede jacket over her white shirt and jeans.
She saw Daniel before he saw her. He was sitting on a bench at the Parliament Hill entrance, where they had arranged to meet. He sat very still, his hands clasped in front of him. She hung back for a minute, and watched him. How beautiful he is! His thick, auburn hair glinted in the spring sunshine, his intelligent eyes and strong family nose conferred a quiet nobility on his face. She realised she was very nervous. This time they would be alone; there would be no buffer state in the shape of Marjory or Jamie. She hoisted the large picnic bag she carried onto the other shoulder and went to greet her son.
They walked past the ponds and north towards Kenwood, then veered west, neither concentrating on where they were going, making small talk about the Heath, the weather, the dogs, until Annie spotted a bench away from the Saturday crowds and they sat down.
‘You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.’ Daniel looked on in awe as she decanted the contents of thecool-bag onto the bench between them. She had made plump brown-bread egg and cress sandwiches; small, crisp chocolate-chip cookies; lemon cupcakes with soft, creamy citrus icing. She’d fried up some chipolata sausages, still warm and nestled in tin foil. There were cherry tomatoes, organic crisps and homemade lemonade. And a thermos of tea. This is like a children’s tea party, she thought with horror, as she laid everything out on the bright blue cotton tablecloth. She realised she was blushing.
‘Trying to recreate your childhood,’ she said, with an embarrassed laugh.
‘It looks wonderful,’ Daniel declared, not meeting Annie’s eye.
‘I hope you didn’t have lunch,’ she went on as she poured the tea. ‘I’m afraid this is what I do. I bake.’
Daniel grinned and shook his head. ‘I’m starving.’
She handed him a paper plate and waited while he helped himself. She had no appetite, but she took a sandwich anyway for the sake of politeness.
‘Did you tell the family?’ he asked. ‘About me.’
‘Yes. Last weekend.’ She hesitated,
‘Well, it could be hard for him too,’ Emma put in. ‘Even though he’s known about it all along.’
‘Mum does talk about Daniel rather a lot. Can’t wait to meet him, see what all the fuss is about.’ Lucy’s face was alight with anticipation.
‘Me too,’ Marsha agreed.
‘He’ll be a twat.’
Lucy sighed. ‘Here we go … It’s you that looks like the twat, Ed, having a mood every time his name’s mentioned. Especially as you haven’t even met him.’
‘Yeah … don’t do this, Eddie. You’ll just upset Mum, and even if Daniel’s grim – which I accept he may well be, of course – Mum doesn’t deserve you being antsy about him. Especially if Dad’s a bit wound up by it all. It isn’t her fault this guy’s popped up out of nowhere.’
Emma nodded in vigorous agreement with her friend’s words.
‘OK, I get it.’ He stared back at the three stern faces and frowned. ‘I’ll try and behave, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him.’
Ed just didn’t understand why they were so eager to welcome a complete stranger into the family. He remembered the Prodigal Son story from RS at school. He’d always thought it grossly unfair, even as a child: one son at home slogging his guts out for little thanks, then the other one rocks up, a full-on no-good waster, and the father brings out the fatted calf. He couldn’t remember the details – or even the point of the story now – but it rang bells with this Daniel fellow.
‘You never know, you might surprise yourself,’ Marsha was telling him.
As Annie took the short walk to Hampstead Heath that Saturday, she rejoiced in the warm sunshine, the light breeze, the scent of pollen: new life slowly blossoming around her. She was always anxious about getting cold – she blamed her low blood pressure – and today, despite the temperate weather, she wore a fitted tan suede jacket over her white shirt and jeans.
She saw Daniel before he saw her. He was sitting on a bench at the Parliament Hill entrance, where they had arranged to meet. He sat very still, his hands clasped in front of him. She hung back for a minute, and watched him. How beautiful he is! His thick, auburn hair glinted in the spring sunshine, his intelligent eyes and strong family nose conferred a quiet nobility on his face. She realised she was very nervous. This time they would be alone; there would be no buffer state in the shape of Marjory or Jamie. She hoisted the large picnic bag she carried onto the other shoulder and went to greet her son.
They walked past the ponds and north towards Kenwood, then veered west, neither concentrating on where they were going, making small talk about the Heath, the weather, the dogs, until Annie spotted a bench away from the Saturday crowds and they sat down.
‘You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.’ Daniel looked on in awe as she decanted the contents of thecool-bag onto the bench between them. She had made plump brown-bread egg and cress sandwiches; small, crisp chocolate-chip cookies; lemon cupcakes with soft, creamy citrus icing. She’d fried up some chipolata sausages, still warm and nestled in tin foil. There were cherry tomatoes, organic crisps and homemade lemonade. And a thermos of tea. This is like a children’s tea party, she thought with horror, as she laid everything out on the bright blue cotton tablecloth. She realised she was blushing.
‘Trying to recreate your childhood,’ she said, with an embarrassed laugh.
‘It looks wonderful,’ Daniel declared, not meeting Annie’s eye.
‘I hope you didn’t have lunch,’ she went on as she poured the tea. ‘I’m afraid this is what I do. I bake.’
Daniel grinned and shook his head. ‘I’m starving.’
She handed him a paper plate and waited while he helped himself. She had no appetite, but she took a sandwich anyway for the sake of politeness.
‘Did you tell the family?’ he asked. ‘About me.’
‘Yes. Last weekend.’ She hesitated,
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