The Comforts of a Muddy Saturday

leave?

She leaned forward. “Will you need more? If I give you five hundred pounds, will you come back and ask for more?”

He began to look indignant, but then stopped himself. “No,” he said quietly. “That’s all I need.”

She made her mind up. “All right. We can get the money from the bank tomorrow.”

She did not expect effusive thanks, and did not get them. But there was a whispered thank you as they went into Charlie’s room. Jamie was standing there, holding Charlie in his sleeper suit. He glanced at Eddie and nodded; then looked at Isabel. She let nothing pass between them, no acknowledgement of what had happened on the landing. It’s between Eddie and me, she thought. Private business. Eddie had told her not to give cheese away; would Jamie tell her not to give away money? It’s mine, she thought—although the cheese, strictly speaking, was not.

Charlie saw Eddie and gave a welcoming gurgle.

“He likes you,” said Jamie.

“Babies do,” said Eddie. “My mum says…” He trailed off.

“She says what?” asked Isabel.

“She says they go by smell,” said Eddie.

Isabel took Charlie out of Jamie’s arms and passed him over to Eddie. “Jamie smells good,” she said. “And I’m sure you do as well. Here.”

Eddie recoiled at first, in fright, but checked himself. He was awkward, uncertain precisely where to place his arms, but Charlie helped by latching on to his sweater.

“Support him,” said Isabel, taking hold of Eddie’s right forearm. Bony. Was he eating properly? If he lived with his parents, then surely his mother should watch out for that. Or Cat should. She was his employer; she should notice these things. And there was no shortage of food in a delicatessen.

“You’re nice and thin, Eddie,” she said, patting the arm she had briefly held.

“That’s because he walks everywhere,” Jamie chipped in. “You do, don’t you, Eddie?”

Eddie nodded. “It’s quicker,” he said.

“But you don’t want to be too thin,” said Isabel.

Jamie reached forward to tickle Charlie under the chin. “What do they say? You can never be too thin, nor too rich.”

“Isabel’s too rich,” said Eddie. “She just said so.”

There was a silence, and Charlie, surprised, looked over Eddie’s shoulder at the people standing around him: there had been gurgles, he thought, those sounds that they made, and now nothing.

Yet the dinner went well, at least until just before the end. Eddie was relaxed, and Isabel could tell that he enjoyed Jamie’s company. From the other side of the table, he looked at Jamie with a bright-eyed admiration, she thought, and this made her smile; many people looked at Jamie that way, and yet he did not appear to notice, or, if he was aware of it, did not think anything of it. The blessed will not care what angle they are regarded from, having nothing to hide: the line from “In Praise of Limestone” came to her unbidden—WHA again! But it was so apt.

They ate salmon terrine, followed by a risotto, from a recipe which Isabel had taken from Mary Contini’s book, and then grapes. Jamie wanted coffee, but Isabel and Eddie did not; so Isabel made a small espresso for Jamie, and while she was doing this, the two of them at the table and she at the worktop, Eddie said: “I can hypnotise people now.”

Jamie looked at him oddly, like an older brother looking at a younger sibling who has made a bragging claim. “Oh yes? Since when?”

“Since a week ago,” said Eddie. “Officially. I got my certificate then. My Part One certificate. I still have to do Part Two and Part Three.”

Jamie appeared puzzled, and Eddie explained about his course. “It’s hard work,” he said. “Quite a few people dropped out.”

“Well done, Eddie,” said Isabel. “You must be pleased—”

“Hypnotise me, then,” Jamie interjected.

Eddie looked at him anxiously. “You serious?”

Jamie glanced at Isabel. She wanted to shake her head, to say no, but could not; she was careful about telling him what he could or could not do. She was not his mother. He turned back to Eddie. “Yes, why not? It would be interesting, don’t you think, Isabel?”

“It’s not a game,” said Eddie.

Isabel was concerned. She did not want Jamie to be hypnotised. She did not want anybody to be hypnotised in her kitchen. She would change the subject. “Of course it’s not. Not like one of those games you play after dinner. You know, the six degrees of separation game. Things like that. Can you get to the pope through five friends?”

“Two,” said Jamie. “In my case.”

Eddie looked blank.

“Right,” said Jamie. “I know the cardinal, the one who lives over at Church Hill, in that house with the green copper dome. He must know the pope. Two degrees of separation from me to the pope.”

Isabel wanted to encourage this new line of discussion. “So you’re three degrees away from the pope, Eddie. You know Jamie. Jamie knows the cardinal. The cardinal knows the pope. Three degrees.”