Every now and again, Caitlin would let out a snigger before she took a bite of her sandwich or cake. I stretched my back up against the high-back chair; it was aching and I longed for a slouchy sofa. I had never sat so upright for so long. I felt Caitlin’s leg on mine, giving it a playful kick. I let out a slight snigger, too. Maxwell did a good job of pretending he couldn’t see Caitlin egging me on. Maybe he was giving her some free ground, as it was her birthday, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ava was becoming increasingly agitated.
‘Oh, Caitlin, do stop sniggering – you sound perfectly ridiculous,’ she finally said, her voice high-pitched and strained.
‘If a girl can’t snigger on her birthday, Ava, when can she?’ Maxwell said putting another dainty sandwich on his plate. ‘Tell us, Sasha, how do you like to keep yourself occupied? It must be lonely when Caitlin isn’t here.’ Despite what he had just said, I knew from Maxwell’s tone he was keen for us girls to stop the silliness and conduct ourselves in a more formal manner.
‘Sasha has been most helpful, haven’t you, dear? She loves to feed the hens and makes sure they are all safely tucked up at night.’ Josephine looked at me and smiled. Maxwell nodded encouragingly.
‘I didn’t know you were such a fan of the hens?’ Caitlin said, and there was a distinct hint of sarcasm in her voice. I felt my cheeks blush immediately. I had not told Caitlin about the amount of time I had willingly mucked in with the chickens. I found them interesting little creatures and enjoyed their company, but suddenly hearing and feeling Caitlin’s distaste, I felt silly. It was true that I helped Josephine on a few occasions when Caitlin wasn’t here or when she was having a piano lesson or doing her botanical drawing and I had begun to look forward to seeing them.
‘Well, someone needs to fill your boots when you’re not here, Caity, dear. And I’d say that black one is rather taken with you, Sasha.’ Josephine picked up a sandwich with her bony fingers; she had painted her long nails red for the occasion.
‘Very intelligent creatures, hens,’ Maxwell said, and as suspected, a blob of egg mayo slid from his sandwich and ricocheted off his napkin.
‘But they taste delicious too,’ Caitlin sang, and Josephine and Maxwell let out a sigh of agreement. She looked at me. ‘I can wring their necks, you know.’
‘Caitlin. Please,’ Ava spoke quietly.
‘Oh no, dear, it’s a very important skill to have at a such a young age – one cannot get too attached to livestock. I learnt that from my uncle Jeffrey,’ Maxwell countered. ‘He was the one who had the farm, Caitlin, but you probably don’t remember him. Dead now, heart attack. Too young to go, damn shame.’
‘Maxwell, do you have to keep using such vulgarities in front of the children?’ Ava had started to look visibly stressed, and I noticed there was no food on her plate. I helped myself to three sandwiches and some more Battenburg.
‘Darling Ava, I am only emphasising the sadness at the loss of a very dear uncle. Please allow me to express my grief.’ Maxwell leant in and helped himself to more sandwiches.
Ava and Maxwell continued their slightly heated conversation about Maxwell’s use of language as Ava finally became involved in the meal and poured herself some tea, then filled everyone else’s cups, and a low hum of conversation began between the adults.
‘I can show you, if you like?’ Caitlin whispered to me.
‘What?’ I whispered back.
‘The hens, how I wring their necks. When they’re weak or old, that’s the best way for them to go.’
I screwed my face up. ‘Doesn’t sound like a very nice way to go to me.’
‘Well, it’s better than being pecked to death.’
‘Pecked?’
‘Yes. The stronger ones prey on the weaker ones and literally peck them to death. That’s where the phrase pecking order comes from. It’s survival of the fittest, where only the strongest of the species survive.’
Caitlin’s eyes widened, and I felt a weight to her words, as though she was trying to say more. The way she had forced the information on me made my gut twist as if she was wringing it like one of the hens’ necks.
‘What are you girls talking about?’ Maxwell said as he leant over and helped himself to a large slice of Victoria sponge.
Caitlin didn’t wait a beat to reply. ‘I was just telling Sasha that she was doing a superb job with the hens in my absence. Ooh is that Victoria sponge, Papa? May I have some?’
‘For the birthday girl? Anything.’
I watched as Maxwell cut a slice twice as big as his and put it on his daughter’s plate. Then I watched as Caitlin picked it up with her hands and took a mammoth bite. Ava eyed her with clear horror and disgust, but all I could think was how Caitlin had changed what she had said when Maxwell asked about our conversation. I tried to push away the awkward feeling that was swirling in my stomach and just concentrate on the fact that Caitlin had asked me to be here, which must have meant that she liked me enough.
Once we had been excused, we had the rest of the afternoon to ourselves, until Caitlin’s special birthday dinner with Ava, Maxwell and Josephine. I hadn’t been invited to
