The Other Family

—’

‘Nor me,’ Dil y said.

Tamsin took a tiny mobile phone out of her kimono pocket and put it on the table.

‘You can’t real y just text her—’

Chrissie made a sudden little fluttering gesture with the hand not holding the notebook. She said, ‘I don’t think I can quite do this, I can’t manage

—’ She stopped, and put her hand over her mouth.

Tamsin jumped up.

‘Mum—’

‘I’m OK,’ Chrissie said. ‘Real y I am. I’m fine. But I know you’re right. I know we should tel Margaret—’

‘And Scott,’ Amy said.

Chrissie glanced at her.

‘Of course. Scott. I forgot him, I forgot—’

Tamsin moved to put her arms round her mother.

‘Damn,’ Chrissie whispered against Tamsin. ‘Damn. I don’t—’

‘You don’t have to,’ Tamsin said.

‘I do. I do. I do have to tel Margaret and Scott that Dad has died.’

Nobody said anything. Dil y got up and col ected the mugs on the table and put them in the dishwasher. Then she swept the biscuit crumbs and bits into her hand and put them in the bin, and the remaining packet in the cupboard. They watched her, al of them. They were used to watching Dil y, so orderly in her person and her habits, so chaotic in her reactions and responses. They waited while she found a cloth, wiped the table with it, rinsed it and hung it, neatly folded, over the mixer tap on the sink.

Chrissie said absently, approvingly, ‘Thank you, darling.’

Dil y said furiously, ‘It doesn’t matter if bloody Margaret knows!’

Chrissie sighed. She withdrew a little from Tamsin.

‘It does matter.’

‘Dad wouldn’t want it!’

‘He would.’

‘Wel , do it then!’ Dil y shouted.

Chrissie gave a little shiver.

‘I’d give anything—’

‘I’l stand beside you,’ Tamsin said, ‘while you ring.’

Chrissie gave her a smal smile.

‘Thank you—’

‘Mum?’

Chrissie turned. Amy was leaning against the cupboard where the biscuits lived. She had her arms folded.

‘Yes, darling.’

‘I’l do it.’

‘What—’

‘I’l ring her,’ Amy said. ‘I’l ring Margaret.’

Chrissie put her arms out.

‘You’re lovely. You’re a dol . But you don’t have to, you don’t know her—’

Amy shifted slightly.

‘Makes it easier then, doesn’t it?’

‘But—’

‘Look,’ Amy said, ‘I don’t mind phones. I’m not scared of phones, me. I’l just dial her number and tel her who I am and what’s happened and then I’l say goodbye.’

‘What if she wants to come to the funeral?’ Dil y said. ‘What if she wants to come and make out he was—’

‘Shut up,’ Tamsin said.

She looked at her mother.

‘Let her,’ Tamsin said. ‘Let her ring.’

‘Real y?’

‘Yes,’ Tamsin said. ‘Let her do it like she said and then it’l be done. Two minutes and it’l be done.’