had ‘passed’ and there was more ‘moolah rolling about’. Dorothy wished she wouldn’t talk like that, as though money wasn’t real. Ruth wanted to move with their parents; she had always longed for that place she could not remember. ‘They won’t come,’ Lee said, ‘but you’ve got to invite them.’
‘Can I think about it?’ She wanted to be a good daughter. But no thanks, none of this I pay, I say. She and Andrew would front the wedding themselves. He’d taken a job in the caretaking division at the polytechnic, since no one was interested in showing or buying his paintings. Everyone had their own definition of survival.
They were interrupted by the ting of Frank’s chopstick against his glass. Wine lurched close to the lip as he raised the glass and made a toast to the engaged couple and welcomed Andrew’s parents into their family, although he called Andrew’s mother by the stepmother’s name. She hooted gaily. ‘Wrong wife, dear, wrong wife!’ Evelyn hid her face behind Dot’s shoulder and snorted. Dorothy, the zip of her dress tight up her side, held back the laugh that threatened to rip out.
Andrew lifted his drink. ‘Thank you,’ he said, cutting Dot’s father off from a relaunch. ‘Thanks, everyone!’ One arm in the air, the other around his fiancée’s thickening middle, his lean face lifted, shadowed by the twisty red tassels that hung down.
At some point someone mentioned the new anti-nuclear policy and Andrew’s stepmother said loudly, ‘Totally ridiculous,’ and Frank, who hated any talk of politics, began to sing a tune from My Fair Lady. Other diners looked over. ‘My family,’ Dorothy said to Andrew’s father and stepmother, who were acting as though nothing was happening except the urgent need to get a pork bun split between them, the stepmother’s chopsticks sawing at the white fleshy dough. On the other side of the round table Michael sat next to the outdoor-enthusiast stepfather, and they were deep in conversation, ignoring the musical interlude too. Andrew’s stepfather was a gesticulator, and he flung a hand back into the approaching waiter’s white shirt so that the waiter dropped a tray of bowls and everyone startled at the crash apart from Frank, who continued singing without pause. Dorothy and Evelyn helped pick up the broken pieces. The zip on her dress did bust a little bit, she felt it split and straightened up carefully, hands full of china. Andrew’s mother bobbed her head along to the song. When it finished she clapped, solitarily. More crispy spring rolls arrived, the wrappers like stiff brown paper spiralled at the ends, and there was the judder of the tinted glass door to the street opening and a wave of cold night air and Daniel was making his way to the table, hands thrust into the pockets of his denim jacket, hair hacked short in a home-made job, scruffy and uneven.
Evelyn flushed. Dorothy saw it. ‘Hi,’ she said, through a smile that couldn’t be controlled.
Lee rose from her seat and embraced Daniel warmly, ruffling his new hair. He sat down next to the stepmother, thrust a hand towards her and said, ‘You must be the cop.’
She scowled. ‘And you are?’
‘I instruct Andrew in the ancient art of karate.’ He gave a little bow.
‘Shut up, Daniel,’ Dorothy said, and made the proper introductions.
‘Oh,’ he said, staring at her waist as though it was finally dawning on him. ‘You’re pregnant.’ He nodded at Andrew and half stood from his chair, roughly aiming a congratulatory hand-slap that missed.
Dorothy wondered if he was high. She said to Evelyn, fixed on her sister’s pinkness, the way she ran her fingers along her collarbone while she looked at Daniel as though nobody could see, ‘We had the scan today. Andrew wanted it to be just us.’ And then Evelyn’s sweet smile melted and Dot said, ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you. I’m sorry.’
‘What are you eating?’ Daniel asked. Without thinking Dorothy leaned across the table towards him and held her chopsticks forward, the piece of gingery chicken wedged between them. Her arm outstretched. It was just for a second but she knew the table froze. Family members poised motionless, watching. Daniel held Dorothy’s gaze, his eyes dark and steady as he ate the mouthful from her chopsticks.
‘Did anyone go to the Queen concert?’ Andrew’s mother asked.
Quickly Dot sank back into her chair, stared down at her bowl.
‘I did,’ said Michael.
Daniel went to the bathroom and after half a minute Dorothy followed, but the hand-stained white