tickets for us all? To say thanks to Jessie and Johnny. And Violet and Lenore can come too. How great would that be?’
‘Paige might die of the shock.’ His laugh was wry. ‘The girls getting some culture while they’re with me.’
Monday morning, 6.47 a.m. and it was already mayhem. Johnny was leaving for Amsterdam, for meetings with Indonesian food wholesalers, and he couldn’t find his charger.
‘Mum, where’s the milk?’ Saoirse yelled from the kitchen.
‘In the fridge,’ she yelled back.
‘It’s all gone.’
How?
‘Jessie, I’m going to miss my flight.’
‘Look in your case.’
‘I’ve looked.’
‘Look again.’
‘Mum,’ Bridey this time, ‘Camilla’s frothing at the mouth!’
‘Again? Take her out the back!’
Jessie dived towards Johnny’s bag, unzipped an inside pocket and handed him his charger. ‘There.’ Thundering down the stairs and into the kitchen, she wrenched open the fridge, took out one of the two cartons resting in the door and slammed it onto the counter.
‘It wasn’t there a minute ago,’ Saoirse said faintly.
Where the hell were the school lunchboxes? Not in the dishwasher, not on top of the freezer. Tearing open drawers, she eventually found them in a cupboard with the frying pans. Why? Quickly buttering bread for the sandwiches, she rummaged in the fridge. ‘Where’s the sliced cheese?’
‘Vinnie ate it all on Saturday,’ Bridey said.
‘Mum! Grozdana is here.’
Already? Grozdana was her personal trainer.
Jessie stuck her head into the hall. ‘Grozdana, hi, five minutes!’
With fumbling hands she made four peanut-butter sandwiches. Johnny came to kiss her goodbye and she jutted the side of her face at him. ‘Your ear,’ he murmured. ‘Always my favourite part of a woman.’
‘I’ll kiss you properly when you come home. Which is when?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘Bunnies!’ she commanded. ‘Be nice to Dad, he’s away for two days.’
‘You be nice to him,’ Bridey said.
‘I’m making your effing lunches!’
‘Bye,’ Johnny said.
She flung the sandwiches into the lunchboxes, along with apples and protein bars, then hurtled upstairs to change into her gym stuff. First World problems, that’s all this was. And to think she had someone to do her cleaning, laundry and afternoon childcare. How hard would life be if she hadn’t?
Pulling on her leggings, she looked at her phone. A text had arrived late last night, from Nell: So excited for Italy. Can I take you guys to the Uffizi? On me? Just let me know numbers x
Jessie felt weak. An art gallery. Christ, no, they were not an art-gallery family. She despised her little tribe – especially herself – for being so uncouth. But after that terrible Sunday afternoon in the National Gallery a couple of years ago, when the kids had been almost murderous with resentment and she’d been bored to the point of panic, they’d steered clear of art. ‘Johnny,’ she’d said quietly. ‘I’m hating every second of this.’
‘Thank God,’ he’d replied.
‘Johnny. I think we might be … a family of peasants.’ Looking for a more positive reframing, she’d said, ‘Maybe we’re a sporty family.’
But they weren’t that either. They didn’t play golf or tennis or any other middle-class sport. The kids played games at school but only because they had to. None of them displayed an actual aptitude.
So what did Jessie, Johnny and their family actually stand for?
Neither she nor Johnny was interested in the novels that people discussed earnestly. Although she dutifully bought them, cookbooks were the only books she enjoyed. Johnny loved Lee Child and got the new one every year, for his summer holidays – and that was him for books.
They weren’t theatregoers either. All that clattering around on wooden floors and speaking far too loudly – she squirmed with embarrassment for the actors and longed to leave in the interval.
Other than that, though, what did they do?
Get-togethers. Jessie had seized that word. They were a sociable family. She was a sociable person. Tentatively she tested that idea. Yes, it was true. And, no, there was no shame in it. She’d reply to Nell after Grozdana.
But what if Nell booked the tickets in the meantime? Then they’d have to go.
God, no, that would be the very worst. She couldn’t run that risk.
Thanks, Nell, you’re a pet, but we’re a crowd of philistines here. Work away without us xxx
FOUR MONTHS EARLIER
* * *
JUNE
Nana and Granddad Casey’s fiftieth wedding anniversary in Mayo
THIRTY-FOUR
She squeezed Ed’s hand. He turned, they smiled at each other in the sparkle-lit night, then went back to watching the stage. It wasn’t his birthday for another three weeks but this gig was her gift to him. Fleet Foxes had a special place in both their hearts and