you he’d think it was a good idea,’ Becky says in a whisper, as we hear his feet on the last – squeaky – stair.
‘What are you two brewing up?’
I look at Rob, who has walked into the room and headed straight for the fridge. ‘Oh hello,’ I say. ‘It’s the scarlet pimpernel.’ Our anticipated cheese night didn’t happen in the end, because Rob was called in to work to cover someone else’s shift.
‘One of these days I’m going to have a week off,’ he says, in his deep Glasgow accent. ‘And you’ll be complaining ah’m under your feet.’
‘I think it’s a myth. You basically work 365 days a year as far as I can see,’ teases Becky.
‘I’ll have you know I’ve got today off to make up for going in on Monday, and I’ve got no plans.’
‘Ooh,’ Becky says, glancing at me. ‘Do you want some?’
‘Depends what they are.’ Rob grins. ‘You’re no’ wanting me to do DIY or something like that?’
She beckons him over. Looking pleased to be included, he comes and sits down, and listens while we explain that we’re on a mission to keep Alex’s mind off what today should have been.
‘I’d love that. And then mebbe when we get back I could make something nice for dinner. What about a curry? Alex likes curry, doesn’t he?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Right. What time are we leaving?’
Becky looks at the clock. ‘Oh God, not for ages yet. About half twelve?’
‘Great.’ Rob rubs his hands together. ‘I’m away to the shop to get some bits and pieces for dinner. I’ll make a feast that’ll blow his socks off. He won’t have a chance to think about whatshername when I’m done.’
In the time it takes me and Becky to get showered, find something to wear, and bumble around the house in a Saturday-morning sort of way, Rob has been out to the market on Portobello Road, picked up huge bagfuls of meat and the freshest of veg, and he’s standing at the kitchen worktop chopping onions and garlic with lightning precision. Despite his huge hands, the knife moves so quickly I can’t quite take it in.
‘I thought you were making dinner later?’ I pinch a piece of chopped red pepper.
‘Aye,’ he says, slapping my hand and laughing. ‘I’m just leaving this lot to marinate for a few hours.’
I peer inside the fridge and it’s stuffed full of various dishes, covered over with cling film, and smelling delicious already.
‘Right.’ He scrapes a heap of chopped-up stuff into a Pyrex dish, mixes it with what looks like some chunks of fish, and covers them over.
‘Can I help?’ I feel a bit useless standing there when the master is at work. He shakes his head.
‘Nah, that’s it all done.’ He runs the tap and washes his hands, shoving the prep stuff in the dishwasher and turning it on. ‘You guys ready?’
We walk down to Paddington where the boats are moored. There’s a little queue – families and tourists all waiting to get on board their boats. Everyone seems to be feeling the same as we are – slightly nervous and a bit giggly. I’m trying very hard not to worry about all the six million things that could go wrong. I’m not really a boat person. I’m surprised to discover that Becky knows exactly what she’s doing. She ushers us all onto a boat and we sit down. I’m peering around, looking for oars.
‘It’s electric,’ she says, laughing. She sits down at the back, and expertly steers us away from Merchant Square and the throngs of tourists who are milling around. There are loads of boats on the water, and yet somehow Becky manages to smoothly dodge out of the way, and before we know it we’re sailing along, the sun reflecting on the water. I’m glad I’ve brought my sunglasses. Alex is wearing his, too, and Rob – his pale freckled arms covered in sun cream – is wearing a baseball cap, and sitting at the steering end of the boat – I think it’s the stern, or maybe it’s the bow; one of those, anyway – with Becky. It’s clear he’s dying to have a turn.
I sit sideways on, my knees almost brushing against Alex’s jeans. He’s gazing out at the water, lost in thought.
‘It’s so quiet,’ he says, after a while.
Rob and Becky are chatting away about cooking stuff. I’m watching the way the long arms of the weeping willow branches reach down, their leaves swishing gently in the breeze. Families with dogs