Alice looks me up and down as she hands back the photograph. ‘Still very slim now.’
‘As are you,’ I say, with a smile, replacing the photo frame back on the sideboard. ‘It must be genetic.’
‘Yeah, I guess it is. Did anyone know you were pregnant when you got married?’
I sit back down, wishing she would drop the cross-examination, but I feel obliged to answer. ‘No. We never told anyone. Not even Mum. We waited until after the wedding and then told her.’
‘And she was okay about it?’
‘She didn’t have a lot of choice.’ I lower my voice. ‘She was more annoyed I hadn’t told her straight away. She couldn’t understand why we wanted to get married so quickly. Anyway, after all the fuss had died down, she could not have been happier. She adores the girls.’
‘Your girls are wonderful, as is your mum, I mean, our mum. Luke is pretty awesome too. You have a great family,’ says Alice. Her words are tinged with sadness and I immediately feel guilty for the burst of pride her remark brought.
‘We’re all family now,’ I say. ‘All of us.’
‘Family. All of us. I like that,’ she says, as the corners of her mouth tip to a smile. ‘Family.’
Chapter 8
Are you sure you can’t take any time off work?’ asks Mum as we sit down on Sunday morning to have breakfast. Sundays are a much more relaxed affair. There’s no set time for breakfast; we all just get up when we want. The girls have been up for over an hour and already had their fill of cereal and toast. They’re now in the sitting room, Hannah watching TV and Chloe amusing herself with her play-kitchen. I’m not one of those parents who insists they do something structured and educational every minute of their waking hour.
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I really can’t,’ I say spreading some marmalade on my toast. ‘I’ve a big court date coming up next month. It’s really important and I can’t take any time off at all.’ I pour a cup of tea. ‘We can have a nice day out today, though. I thought we could all go into Brighton. Show Alice the sights.’
Mum’s disappointed look makes way for a smile. ‘That’s a good idea. We could take her to all the places I used to take you two as children. It may jog her memory. There’s the seafront, the pier, the lanes. We could get fish and chips and an ice cream. The girls will enjoy it too. Yes, let’s do that.’
I smile at Mum and reach over, putting my hand on her arm. ‘Mum, you know Alice was very young when she was here – she may not remember anything at all.’
‘I know that.’ Mum pats my hand.
‘I just don’t want you to be too disappointed or to be putting pressure on anyone.’
‘Ooh, looks like I’ve timed this just right. Morning all.’ Luke comes into the kitchen and, with acrylic-covered fingers, swipes a slice of toast from my plate. Blues, greens and yellows make his hands look as if they’re covered in bruises. He’s had another night of working on his new commission. He drops a kiss on my head. ‘How are you?’
‘All good, thanks. How’s the painting coming on?’ I say as I watch Luke pad over to the kettle.
‘Anyone want a cup?’ he asks. ‘Marion?’
Mum shakes her head. ‘No thanks. Put a cup out for Alice, though, I’m sure she’ll be up soon.’
‘Painting is going great, Babe,’ says Luke. He comes to sit down beside me at the table. ‘What’s on the agenda today?’
‘Thought we’d go to Brighton. Show Alice the sights,’ I say. ‘You coming? Or do you need to get on with your work?’
‘No, I’ll come. I’ve had enough for a while. I could do with a break and some fresh sea air. It will be nice to spend some time with you all.’
It’s not long before Alice comes down. I can’t help raise my eyebrows slightly and exchange a discreet look with Luke. Alice is wearing just an over-sized T-shirt, except, in my opinion, it could do with being a bit more over-sized. Of course, she’s got the legs for it. Very American; long and tanned as opposed to my own – long they may be, but as white as two pints of milk. She leans forward to kiss Mum on the cheek and her T-shirt rides up slightly. Luke averts his eyes and makes a big deal out of putting another spoon of sugar in his cup.
‘Good morning, everyone,’ she says, standing up and running her hand through her hair, dragging it loosely from her face and letting it fall again.
‘Good morning, darling,’ says Mum. ‘Did you sleep all right? Wasn’t too hot or too cold? Was the mattress okay for you?’