The Waffle House on the Pier - Tilly Tennant Page 0,10
child would not have been permitted to read at the table while eating, but Henny doted on Freya and would have allowed her to conduct chemistry experiments at the table if she thought for a moment it would make her granddaughter happy.
Freddie was two years younger and a carbon copy of his dad. Already he was handsome, with soft brown eyes that could melt the hardest heart and a head of dark curls. Although he was good-looking and charming, he was more difficult than Freya, perhaps because he was a bit too boisterous and energetic like his dad – always in trouble, always hurting himself, always intrigued by things that he shouldn’t be. If someone put a huge red button in front of him and told him that should he press it the world would end, Freddie simply wouldn’t be able to control the urge to slam his hand down on it, just to see what would happen. He loved to go out diving with Ewan, rain or shine, no matter the temperature of the water. He loved swimming in the shallow pools around the rocks, he loved surfing the smaller waves that rolled onto the beach, and he loved running and climbing. He was obsessed with any sport he could get the chance to play, anything that meant he didn’t have to sit still for more than five minutes. Right now he was gazing longingly out at the churning sea beyond the windows of the conservatory, perhaps dreaming of a day spent splashing through the waves instead of being cooped up at a sedate family meal.
‘You both have enough gravy?’ Kat asked them, and both children nodded. Freya’s head went immediately back to her book as she absently speared a carrot onto her fork and moved it dextrously to her mouth without even looking; it was clear she’d spent many a mealtime reading. Freddie’s gaze returned to the sea where, should anyone have looked closely enough, they might have seen little movies of afternoons spent surfing reflected in the pools of his huge brown eyes.
Henny put the gravy boat down and retrieved her cutlery.
‘Meat’s lovely, Dad,’ Sadie said.
Graham smiled up at her.
‘Very tender,’ April said, though Sadie glanced at her plate and didn’t see how her grandmother could know because her food didn’t look touched.
‘It is,’ Ewan agreed. ‘I’ve always said you do a mean roast.’
‘I’ve definitely missed your cooking,’ Lucy said. ‘I think I might have put on at least ten pounds since I’ve been here – it’s a good job I’m flying back tomorrow because any more and I’d have to pay for an extra seat on the plane.’
‘Oh, darlin’,’ April said, smiling at Lucy. ‘You look just peachy to me. If you’ve put on a little extra padding it suits you – you were too thin when you arrived back. I think you work too hard.’
‘I have nobody feeding me all this lovely home-cooked food either,’ Lucy said, and it was telling that she didn’t dispute the fact that she did work hard. Perhaps her sister did feel it was too hard sometimes, but Sadie knew that even if she did, she thought it was necessary. Lucy had always been ambitious and determined, passionate about the arts and a champion of those involved in them. She’d once wanted to train as an actor herself but had decided very early on that she just wasn’t that good; then a chance meeting with a theatrical agent in London who wanted to set up a New York office had set her on her current path – a path Sadie suspected suited her far better and that she loved. It probably made her more money too, though she would never be crass enough to show off about how much she might be making.
‘This is all lovely, of course,’ Kat said, and suddenly Sadie detected a hint of impatience in her tone. ‘But while we’re enjoying the chance to catch up, I think perhaps there’s something we really need to talk about.’
Henny nodded slowly, her gaze travelling to April momentarily before resting on Kat again. ‘I think you might be right.’
‘I’m glad we’re on the same page,’ Kat said.
Ewan looked at her. ‘Would someone mind telling me what page that is? Because I’m not sure I’m even in the same book.’
‘The waffle house, dear,’ Kat said. ‘Perhaps we ought to talk about it sooner rather than later.’ She looked around the table. Other families might have thought her pointed instruction impertinent