did hit the rocks – the relationship, not Tom – men were still, by definition, able to pick themselves up, dust themselves off, slap on a smile and say: hi, Lucinda! Oh, Squiggs, is it? Lovely to meet you. Glass of champagne?
The doorbell went, making me jump. From the kitchen came the sound of the children’s voices: less happy now, more shrill and fretful. Something I should pounce on before it went critical. Archie screamed very loudly in sudden outrage, as Clemmie no doubt pinched his last biscuit. I shut my eyes tight. One read terrible stories in the papers, ghastly ones. But who hasn’t, on occasion, sympathized with the young girl in the high-rise flat, alone with three small children, driven to distraction, driven to shaking her baby? Who hasn’t wanted to jump up, storm into that kitchen, pull Clemmie roughly from the table, shake her arm and shout in her face about being mean to her brother, about being a little cow, then slap her leg hard? Archie was roaring fit to bust now, giving it both barrels. There’d been one in the Mail just the other day, about a girl who’d simply gone away. Shut the door to her flat, two small children inside, and got on a train to Edinburgh. One was only six months old.
The doorbell rang again. A longer, more persistent summons, and this time I got stiffly to my feet. I walked slowly down the hall to the kitchen where Archie, brick-red in the face, was bawling. I calmly unclipped him from his high chair and set him on my hip, then, reaching into the biscuit tin, gave him one, wordlessly. He took it and the shrieking stopped instantly, to be replaced by silent sobs and hiccuping, his face drenched, nose snotty, boiling hot in my arms. I took another biscuit and passed it to my pale-faced daughter, sitting silent and guarded, with her back to me in front of the television. She took it in surprise, guilty eyes catching mine. No words were exchanged. Then, as my doorbell went for a third time, I went back down the passage with Archie in my arms, to answer it. Only the more astute observer might notice I still hadn’t taken my coat off, and that most mothers would have wiped their baby’s sopping face with their hand before answering the door. Other than that, it was business as usual. Oh, and I usually flicked the light on before I opened the door, the hall being so dark, but I couldn’t be fagged. Couldn’t be fagged to turn on a light? An alarm bell sounded somewhere dim and distant and I reached quickly for the switch. Lifted my chin too, as I opened the front door.
‘Oh. Luke. Hi.’
Looking a bit temporary and as if he might well be on his way, Luke Chambers turned, halfway down my front path. He was wearing a pair of old Levis, a white T-shirt and a bright blue V-necked jumper. It wasn’t a bad look. He flashed me a smile, raked his hand through his blond hair and bounced back up the path.
‘Poppy, hi! What kept you? Were you enthroned or something? Compromised in the smallest room? I was about to give up on you and go and do some solitary drinking.’
‘Sorry. Archie was crying. Couldn’t hear the bell.’ Couldn’t raise a smile, either.
‘Oh, right.’ He hesitated, unnerved perhaps by my deadpan expression. And I hadn’t asked him in.
‘Yeah, well, I might not have pressed it hard enough, one never quite knows if it rings louder inside than out.’ He licked his lips as I didn’t reply. ‘Um, Poppy,’ he ploughed on, perhaps a mite nervously for him, ‘I wondered if you and the kids would like to have some lunch? Only I was going to go across to the Rose and Crown to grab a ploughman’s, and they don’t mind children, apparently, I’ve checked. As long as it’s in the saloon bar and not the public one. Oh, and they do a kids’ menu too, if a ploughman’s doesn’t appeal, nuggets and chips.’ It was said eagerly, nicely. Albeit in something of a rush. Rather as my words had tumbled out on the phone just now: the voice of someone who gives a damn.
I considered his offer. Another reason I’d sped out of the church via the side door with Jennie was to avoid Luke, who I knew would be looking for me after the service. It was