It seems like ages since I saw him. It’s nearly a month, but it seems longer. His hair has grown back a little, not back to where it was when he was shaggy and comfortable-looking, like an old jumper, but it’s not quite as skul -grazing as it was.
He is tanned and lean, and there are red apples on his cheeks. His teeth are very white – I’ve always liked that about him.
Ah, it’s good to see him, after so long. We’ve been funny with each other these past few months, and I wish we hadn’t. And now he’s here, and it’s lovely. He’s smiling widely and holding out his arms. I walk towards him and he hugs me.
‘It’s great to see you, Nat,’ he says. I look up and smile, and realise I am staring right at Jamie, who has been standing behind him. I step back.
‘Hey, Jamie,’ I say. ‘It’s great to see you too. Two of you, too. Both of you! Hah!’ I finish lamely, sounding insane. ‘Come on over! Check out my
. . . stuff.’ I trail off, and they look at me politely.
Over at the next stal , Sara shakes her head at me, and then her attention is diverted. ‘Natasha?’ I hear her say. ‘She’s right here.’
‘Hel o, darling,’ says a low voice in my ear. ‘Isn’t this
‘Mum?’ I turn in surprise. ‘Hi – I didn’t know you were coming.’
‘You invited me, didn’t you?’ She leans forward and kisses me, and I smel her familiar scent, sandalwood and something spicy. My mother is channel ing her favourite era today, in a beautiful cerise and turquoise silk maxi- dress and cardigan, and gold sandals. She looks younger than I do.
I run my hands through my hair, awkwardly.
‘Mum, you know Ben and –’ I begin, but she interrupts. ‘Ben! Hel o,
‘How
At this point my mother actual y nudges him. I expect her to say, ‘Oh, get away!’ and lightly tap his hand. ‘I can’t stay long,’ she says, smiling broadly. ‘Jean-Luc’s taking me to lunch! At Galvin!’
‘Jean-Luc?’
‘Oh, you remember, darling, he’s a special friend of mine. Poor chap’s had a terrible time, but he’s left his wife for good now, and it’s going marvel ously.’
I look at her and she does seem to be glowing, but perhaps that’s just the bronzer and the new diamond earrings she appears to be sporting.
Whatever it is, the coat of armour is firmly back on my mother, for better or worse. ‘Where is he?’ I ask.
‘Oh,’ she says, with devastating candour. ‘He hates this kind of thing. He’s in a cheese shop somewhere.’
‘Charming,’ I hear Ben murmur, and I want to laugh, and I realise laughing is the only way to deal with it, because it real y is kind of funny.
My mother leans forward. ‘These are pretty,’ she says, her gaze sliding over my pieces. She strokes one of the necklaces with two fingers.
‘Cecily’s ring, darling, it looks beautiful.’ She looks up. ‘These must be sel ing wel , hm?’
‘I’ve sold a hundred and fifty so far.’
‘Gosh.’ She nods. ‘And these are nice,’ she says, picking up the bangles. I forget how good she was at her job, with her eye for beautiful things and a sense of business that came from God knows where, and I think again about al the things she could have been if she hadn’t been screwed up – or screwed herself up. She slips a bangle onto her slim wrist. The blue enamel glints in the sunny hal . ‘I love it,’ she says. ‘I’l take one.’ She pauses. ‘And the necklace too.’
As I reach for some tissue paper to wrap them, Jamie taps me on the arm. ‘I just wanted to say hi,’ she says. Her blonde hair glows in the bright sun.
‘Hi,’ I say, slightly confused, and I look around for Ben. ‘I’m going, I mean, sorry. It al looks gorgeous, Natasha, I real y love your stuff. I’m going to come by the studio tomorrow if that’s OK and buy some things for my sisters.’
‘Sure—’ I am pleased but a little bewildered. ‘Ben, I’l see you tomorrow then too?’
Ben and Jamie look at each other. ‘Bye then,’ Jamie says, and she scurries off, her head bowed.
Ben stares at me. ‘Nat, what—’
Someone taps my arm. ‘Oh. Look who’s here.’
The actual reality of sending out an email to al my friends and family becomes apparent as I stop hunting for tissue paper and look up to see Guy, Roseanna and Cecily, walking slowly towards the stal . They look apprehensive, as wel they might.
My mother’s face gives nothing away. I clutch Ben’s hand, not meaning to, and then release it instantly.
‘Hel o, Miranda,’ Guy says, and he kisses her on the cheek and sinks his hands into the pockets of his baggy cords. She kisses him back.
‘Hi,’ she says.
I put the necklaces down and step forward. ‘Hi, there,’ I say. We’ve met quite a few times, but Roseanna and Cecily are stil quite awkward with me, and I with them. We raise our hands to each other. They are both holding
