wander disconsolately into the kitchen, where the girls are hoovering up pasta with pesto and studiously ignoring their carrot sticks.
‘What does “virgin” mean?’ says Tessa at once.
I stare at her. ‘Virgin?’
‘Virgin.’ She raises her eyes to mine. ‘I don’t know what it means.’
‘Oh. Goodness. Right.’ I swallow, my mind scurrying around. ‘Well, it means … it’s a person who hasn’t yet … er …’ I trail off and reach for a carrot stick, playing for time.
‘It can’t be a person,’ objects Tessa. ‘How would they fit in?’
‘They would be too big,’ agrees Anna. She measures the width of herself with her hands, then squeezes them together tight. ‘You see?’ She looks at me as though making an obvious point. ‘Too big.’
‘Fit in?’ ‘Too big?’ My mind is ranging uneasily over various interpretations of these remarks. And why is Tessa talking about virgins, anyway?
‘Tessa,’ I say carefully. ‘Have children been talking in the playground, about … grown-up things?’
Do I have to have the whole chat, right here, right now? What is the chat, anyway? Oh God. I know you’re supposed to start early and be all frank like the Dutch, but I’m not saying the word ‘condom’ to my five-year-old, I’m just not …
‘I think it means tomato,’ volunteers Anna.
‘It’s not tomato,’ says Tessa scathingly. ‘It’s green. Green.’
Suddenly I realize what they’re both looking at. The bottle of extra virgin olive oil sitting on the table.
‘Oh, this!’ I say, my voice almost giddy with relief. ‘Extra virgin oil! That just means … very new. Nice new olives. Mm. Yummy. Eat up, girls.’
I will be frank when the time comes, I promise myself. I’ll be Dutch. I’ll even say ‘condom’. Just not today.
‘All done!’ Dan comes striding into the kitchen, exactly like someone who just went on Dragon’s Den and won a million pounds’ investment. ‘Your turn.’
I head to the sitting room, to find Karen sitting on a high-backed chair in the middle of the room, holding a pen and an A4 writing pad.
‘Hello, Sylvie,’ she says in formal, pleasant tones. ‘And welcome. Begin whenever you’re ready.’
I’m already prickling. Welcome to my own sitting room? And, by the way, what’s she writing? I haven’t even started yet.
‘Whenever you’re ready,’ repeats Karen, and I hastily marshal my thoughts.
‘Right,’ I begin. ‘Well, I’m planning to whisk Dan off for a fabulous, once-in-a-lifetime treat. We’re seeing our favourite comedian, Tim Wender, in a special lunchtime performance at the Barbican Comedy Festival. Lunch and wine are included.’
I sound like a competition from daytime TV, I realize. Next I’ll be promising him five hundred pounds’ spending money in London’s exclusive West End.
‘Very nice,’ says Karen, in the same pleasant, ambivalent tone. ‘Is that it?’
Is that it? I’m about to retort ‘Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get those tickets?’ but that might not help my case. (And actually, it was Clarissa who pulled the strings, because she used to work at the Barbican.)
‘Yes. That’s it,’ I say.
‘All right. I’ll let you know my thoughts presently.’ She smiles a dismissal and I head back out into the hall, feeling all cross and bothered. This is ridiculous.
Dan comes out of the kitchen, crunching a carrot stick. ‘How did it go?’
I shrug. ‘Fine.’
‘Great!’ He gives me his ebullient smile again, just as the door opens. Karen emerges and looks from me to Dan, her face serious.
‘I have come to my decision.’ She pauses momentously, exactly like a judge on TV. ‘And today … you will be carrying out Dan’s plan. I’m sorry, Sylvie,’ she adds to me, ‘but Dan’s plan just had that extra something.’
Dan’s plan did?
Dan’s plan did?
I can’t believe it. In fact, I don’t believe it. Mine had the extra something. But, just like a TV contestant, I manage to squash my real feelings beneath a vivacious smile.
‘Well done!’ I kiss Dan. ‘I’m sure you deserve it.’
‘I wish we could both have won,’ he says generously.
‘You did really well, Sylvie,’ says Karen kindly. ‘But Dan just had that extra attention to detail.’
‘Of course!’ My smile becomes even brighter. ‘Well, I can’t wait to see it all in action!’
No pressure. But I have set the bar preeeeetty high.
‘Sylvie surprised me with breakfast this morning,’ Dan is telling Karen. ‘So really it’s only fair that I should surprise her with lunch.’
‘Hey, you haven’t mentioned my other surprise,’ I say in sudden realization. Dan was in the kitchen just now. He saw the makeover. So why hasn’t he exclaimed over it?