The five of us ambled along, taking in the sights as Jessica breathed in deeply, ecstatic with the wind in her hair and the Cornish summer sun on her face.
‘What’s that red thing? It looks like a dunce’s cap,’ Luke asked, pointing into the distance.
Ben smiled, too polite to laugh. ‘It’s a daymark – like a diurnal lighthouse for the ships. It warns them of the Runnel Stone reef a mile off shore. You see the black and white one, further behind?’
‘Diurnal, wow. This kid can talk. Yeah, I see it.’
‘As long as the ships can see both of them during the day, they’re okay, but if the black and white one disappears behind the red one, that means they’re in rocky waters.’
‘I didn’t know that!’ Chloe marvelled.
‘That’s because you’ve always got your nose in your mobile phone,’ I observed. ‘Look up every once in a while, and smell the sea air. Or read a book.’ As I said it, her mobile rang and she clicked the off button. I wondered if it was Chanel. Chloe hadn’t mentioned her since Luke and Jessica had arrived.
‘This is so beautiful,’ Jessica said. ‘I can smell the salt air, feel the freshness on my face, hear the seagulls. There are at least three circling our heads now, am I right?’
We all looked up and, sure as rain in a Cornish summer, there they were – three seagulls eyeing us, or more precisely Ben’s sandwich.
When we got in, Chloe dumped her phone onto the side table in the living room. Now, as much as I was thrilled about that fact per se, I had to find out.
‘Chloe?’ I said. ‘I meant to ask you. Have you been connecting with Chanel lately?’
At that, she rolled her eyes.
Normally, I try not to be too much of a pain in the arse, because I know I really can be with all my rules about respect and manners and responsibilities.
And if on one hand I was thrilled that Jessica and Chloe had bonded, and that Jessica was drumming into my daughter the same manners I hadn’t managed to, on the other hand I was upset about Chloe’s dwindling friendship with Chanel. I was all for making new friends, but one must never forget the old ones, particularly the good ones, and Chanel indeed was the best friend a mother could hope for, for her daughter. Chanel was definitely part of our family, no bones about it. When Chanel first had her heart broken, it was my shoulder she cried on, me who drove her to get some ice cream, and me who gave her advice on how to (at least seem to) get over him.
But with Jessica’s arrival, their conversations had dwindled, and now it was me who normally reminded Chloe to answer Chanel’s texts. So the next day I had a private word with her in her bedroom. ‘How would you feel if Chanel met, I don’t know, some singer or someone, and completely forgot about you?’
‘Like who?’ she wanted to know.
‘I’m just pretending, Chloe. How would you feel?’
She thought about it. ‘She would never do that to me.’
‘Exactly. Remember who your people are, Chloe. Call Chanel back immediately and apologise for your behaviour.’
Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘What the hell, Mum. You told me to say away from my phone.’
‘Well, why don’t you invite her over? Emma’s busy with work, but I’m sure Chanel would be happy to see Jessica.’
‘And I’m sure Emma would be happy to meet Luke,’ she countered. ‘Or are you keeping him all to yourself?’
‘What a silly thing to say, Chloe.’
‘Is it? Then why don’t you invite your tribe over?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m going to do,’ I decided on the spot. It was time. Luke would love Emma. And Emma would drool over Luke.
I made a couple of phone calls. Jack was a no-go, much to my disappointment, but Emma was thrilled.
I pulled out all the stops and made my special ricotta, sugar and cinnamon-filled ravioli for lunch.
‘What are you making? Can I help?’ Luke asked as he loped into the kitchen.
‘Ravioli. Oh and I’m inviting my best friend Emma and her daughter over for dinner Saturday night.’
‘Ooh, sounds like fun. You are an amazing cook. You should open your own restaurant. Well, not anymore, because you won’t need to once our movie hits the theatres.’
I flashed him a shy smile. ‘I actually make arancini for some local restaurants.’
‘Ara… what is that you said?’ His voice was still pasty with sleep and I could smell “bed” all over him.
Despite myself, I giggled. ‘Arancini. Basically Sicilian rice balls stuffed with minced meat and all kinds of delicious things.’ I was getting pretty creative and was working on ways to introduce Nutella into the scheme. I know, it sounds sick, but trust me, it’s not. Something about the sweet and savoury works.
‘So how is it that you are always on the go?’ he asked as he reached for a couple of mugs above the sink.
‘I don’t know,’ I said as I chopped up my onions for the minced meat. ‘With kids, you have to be, don’t you?’
‘Tell me about it. Here’s your coffee.’
‘Thanks.’
He cocked his head and slid me an amused look as he poured a cup for himself.
‘What?’ I said as I scooped up the onions for the sauce, threw them into the sizzling olive oil, gave them a stir and rinsed my hands under the sink.
He passed me the tea towel and I smiled my thanks, glancing at him briefly. This felt so strange – almost like watching one of his movies (I’d caught up with his career in the few weeks before his arrival) where he and his lady had just come downstairs after a night in the sack.
I stopped as he was staring at me.
