‘Well, I don’t know—’ Kate realised she had no idea how Brian was with kids.
‘Please,’ Jake begged, putting his hands together in a prayer position. ‘We’ll let you have Will on your side,’ he added.
‘Is he good, then?’ Brian asked him.
‘He’s from England, same as Beckham,’ Jake explained, with irrefutable logic. ‘Or you can have Josie, if you like. Josie’s good in goal because she’s built like a big shithouse – that’s a kind of toilet,’ he explained, plainly delighted with the expression.
Kate tried to look disapproving but couldn’t help laughing. ‘Jake,’ she admonished him, ‘you shouldn’t say things like that.’
‘Josie said it first.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t repeat it. And, anyway, it’s abrickshithouse, not abigshithouse.’
‘So, will you play?’ Jake persisted.
‘Okay,’ Brian agreed. ‘We’ll take Josie.’
Kate just hoped she wouldn’t be required to tackle Will too vigorously.
* * *
After they had allowed the children to trounce them at football, dinner was ready. Everyone crowded around the long wooden table as Helen and Carmen carried huge dishes from the kitchen. ‘You’ll have to put up with my cooking tonight,’ Helen said to Brian. ‘I’m not quite up to Kate’s standards, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, don’t mind her, Helen’s a brilliant cook,’ Kate told him, smiling at her sister-in-law. ‘What are we having?’
‘Fish,’ Helen announced, lifting the lid on a platter of glistening barbecued sea bass, their skin scored and blackened. ‘Fresh out of the sea this morning. It’s the only thing to have down here really, isn’t it?’
‘Oh!’ Kate said, dismayed.
‘Yes, and Conor’s done a really good job of barbecuing it,’ Helen continued as she arranged the side dishes on the table.
‘Is there anything else?’ Kate asked.
‘Well, there are potatoesboulangére, peperonata, salad, bread.’ Helen indicated the various dishes. ‘Help yourselves, everyone.’
‘It’s just that Brian’s a vegetarian,’ Kate said, hating to make a fuss when Helen had gone to so much trouble. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you knew.’
‘Oh!’ Helen looked from Grace to Rachel. ‘I knew he didn’t eat meat, but I thought he ate fish.’
‘I thought all vegetarians ate fish,’ Grace said.
‘I’m sorry, Brian, I could have sworn someone told me you ate fish,’ Helen said.
‘No, nothing with a face,’ Brian said.
‘Oh, it’s okay,’ Jake piped up from the far end of the table. ‘My mum cuts the face off, don’t you, Mum?’
‘I don’t think that’s quite what Brian means, Jake,’ Helen told him.
But Jake thought he had found a kindred spirit and was keen to reassure him. After all, it wasn’t every day you found an adult who was so sensible about food. Most of them were always boasting that they’d eat any old rubbish. ‘I don’t eat faces either,’ he continued chummily. ‘Imagine eating the eyes,’ he said,screwing up his face in disgust. ‘They’d be all squelchy and yucky.’
‘Yes, okay, Jake, we get the picture.’
But Jake was just getting into his stride. ‘And the nose!’ He was relishing the opportunity to gross everyone out. ‘Imagine if you ate the nose and it was full of snot. Yeugh!’
‘Jake, it’s not just the face that Brian doesn’t eat,’ Helen said wearily.
‘I just feel that animals with faces are so like us, aren’t they? They’re our friends,’ Brian explained. ‘You wouldn’t eat one of your friends, would you?’
