‘Oh, no, Bunny, not at all. I just hope you’re feeling okay.’
‘You’re very sweet to be concerned about me. I really am fine, but I don’t fancy much for breakfast. I want to settle my stomach. I’ll graze my way through the day, don’t worry.’
I smiled.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interfere.’
‘Not at all, darling, you’re kind, that’s all.’
I would have returned to my magazine, but at that moment, the twins came bursting through the door, full of vim and joy despite the early hour.
‘Mummy, Grandpa, Uncle Lando, Pilar, Pixie…Penny!’
They greeted us breathlessly, running from one to the next showing us the cuddly toys that were in favour that morning and Caspy trying to describe a dream that was slipping away from him as he spoke:
‘There was a funny man in the kitchen, sort of hiding, then the wallpaper peeled off, and then the man – the one who was hiding – he…oh wait, there was a kitten as well…’
‘It sounds marvellous, sweetie,’ Bunny enthused. ‘Dreams are soodd, aren’t they? I once dreamt that I was eating cucumber sandwiches in the jungle and a hippo walked by and asked me to put my hat away properly next time. I wonder what it meant?’
The twins shrieked with laughter.
‘Did you really, Mummy? Did you really dream that?’
Bunny nodded solemnly. ‘It was most peculiar. Now, what are you two going to do over breakfast?’
Used to the routine, they sloped off to the corner of the room and put on the TV, plucking out the correct remote control from a selection of four and finding their preferred channel with an ease I suppose comes naturally to children these days. I got up to go and get their breakfast, but Pilar stopped me in my tracks.
‘Sit down, Penélope, I get the breakfast, please.’
‘I really don’t mind, I’m here to help look after the twins…’
I trailed off when I saw the darkening look on her face.
‘I do the breakfast. You have a long day ahead.Gracias, pero no.’
I got the message and slunk back gratefully to my comfortable chair, my magazine and the new steaming cup of coffee which had appeared next to me.
After about forty minutes, I could see that the twins were beginning to get restless, no longer paying attention to their programme. With a deep sense of gratitude for the relaxed start to the day, I closed the magazine, tucked it under my arm, picked up my breakfast things and went to stand up. It was at this point I realised my mistake. I had sunk so far into the cushiony depths of the armchair that my bottom now seemed to be lower than my knees. Getting up with two free hands would have been inelegant enough, but with my hands full and one arm clamping the magazine to my side, it was nigh on impossible. An experimental wriggle, which I hoped might push me up a little, succeeded only in working me deeper into the chair – so deep, in fact, that I now couldn’t reach the side table to put anything down. Every time I breathed, the cup wobbled on its delicate saucer, threatening to fly off and shatter. I watched enviously as Bunny raised herself effortlessly from sitting to swap over her magazine, swiftly followed by William. How did they do it? They seemed to sort offloatout of their seats. It must be years of practice, I mused, still stranded, of extricating themselves from feathery upholstery, whereas I had only ever tackled the helpful spring back of IKEA foam. Finishing schools probably did special classes in it for those who hadn’t learnt at their mother’s knee. I looked around furtively to see if I could make another attempt at escape, but only succeeded in meeting Lando’s eye, then going beetroot with embarrassment.Please look away, I thought desperately,just pretend you haven’t seen.No such luck. He came over, took my crockery from me and then offered me a hand, which I took, mortified but grateful. Then – and I’m afraid there is no other word for it – he hoisted me out of the chair, so I landed on my feet.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered, busying myself with the magazine.
‘No problem,’ he replied. ‘The springs have gone in that chair, we’ve all been stuck in it at some point. I should probably get it mended, but it’s ridiculously comfortable.’
The shame ebbed away in the face of this kindness, and I smiled at him.
‘Yes, I could easily have stayed there all day, but I think it’s time I got these two moving.’
I went over to the children.
‘Right, come on, I think it’s time the TV went off.’
There were some token complaints and moaning, but Bunny stayed determinedly buried in her magazine, and I stood firm.
‘If you turn it off, we can talk about what you want to do today. I’m new around here, so I don’t have any plans of my own – it’s all up to you.’
This caught their attention, and Phina soon found the remote and switched off the TV.
‘Ooh, Pixie, we want to go into the village, don’t we, Cas?’
