“Sounds plausible.” Mimi nods, though I notice how her lips twitch.
“What you’re aiming for is something rigid.” Mum makes a fist around the towel, her expression deadly serious. “It’s got to be hard before you put it in your mouth. Otherwise, it’s just not as satisfying.” I slide her a look, wondering if she’s been on the cooking sherry when her blue gaze catches mine. “Isn’t that right, Leif?”
“Your satisfaction at mouthing hard things isn’t any of my business, Mum.”
I’ve barely finished the taunting sentence when she’s whacking me with the teatowel. “Filthy animal!”
“If I have a dirty mind, it’s hereditary.” That earns me another whack. When I turn to Mimi, laughter dances in her eyes. “How do you think my parents had seven children?”
“The usual way!” Polly butts in.
“With an awful lot of practice in between.”
“Oh boy. You are in trouble.” Mimi presses her hand to her mouth, but it doesn’t hide the amusement from her eyes.
“I don’t know where I got you from!” Poll protests, throwing her hands up.
“Well, it wasn’t the cabbage patch, that’s for sure.” I don’t normally bring up the topic of her and Dad’s sex life in company. When just us kids are about, it’s fair game because we were the ones who had to live through those years of free and often loving. Free with each other, at least. As teenagers, we’d pretty much announce our imminent appearance in a room just to make sure we weren’t walking in on something. I saw my dad’s arse more times than I will ever admit. But it’s good we can tease her about it these days because for a while, there was no joy to be found in reminiscing. These days, Poll’s grief isn’t so sharp-edged. It’s become a little easier for all of us, I suppose. Not that you’d think she’s happy about it right now.
“Your father would turn in his grave to hear you,” she fake-wails.
“Difficult,” I retort, “considering he was cremated. Besides, you know he’d be encouraging me right now. Squeezing your bum and insisting he can’t help himself on account of you being so irresistible.” Mum’s expression softens, and she presses her hand to her cheek, almost as though she can feel the phantom of his lips.
“I miss him,” she whispers.
“We all do.” Stepping into her, I press a brief kiss to the crown of her head. “Oof!” I feign a cracked rib as she pokes me in them.
“And if you’ve got a dirty mind, it’s all your father’s fault, the randy old sod. Has he?” My stomach tightens when, as quick as a flash, Mum’s attention slides like a knife to Mimi.
“Has he what?” Mimi blinks back innocently, and surprisingly, there isn’t even a hint of pink to her cheeks.
“Oh, she’s good,” Polly says, her attention turning my way.
“A good PA? Yeah, Mimi’s great.”
Mum makes a noise in the back of her throat, cutting off further comment. “Definitely your father’s son,” she says in a tone none too complimentary.
“Leif’s not as bad as El.” Primrose comes to my defense as she appears in the kitchen.
“That was a compliment, Primrose, dear.”
“Oh. I thought you must be heading down therandy old sodroute.”
“Takes two to tango,” I offer up. “And in our parents case—”
“Eww!” Prim protests, scrunching her nose. “Maybe you are as bad as El.”
“Why, what’s he done?” I fold my arms and lean against the fridge.
“Just the usual. Honestly, I’m not sure if he thinks I’m an idiot or a kid. He believes he’s speaking in code, but I know what a nosh job is,” Prim protests, slightly aggrieved.
I press a snicker into my hand, my eyes catching Mimi’s. She’s no idiot, and she’s no kid, but by her expression, she doesn’t know what that is.
“So what is it?” Polly’s attention swings between my sister and me. “I don’t know. Is someone going to tell me?”
“I’ve no idea,” I say, painting on a bland expression. We’re an open family, but there’s no way I’m discussing blow job terminology with my mother.
“Prim?” she demands. “Nosh is food, so what is a nosh job?”
