‘Oh, you know, all the strong female characters in the family. My wife, my niece, my mother.’ He grinned, a little inebriated from the bottle of port he’d finished off over dinner. ‘I think even Joe’s mother mentioned it before they left to brave the horror of the dual carriageway.’ He picked up a plate. ‘They’re a funny pair aren’t they, his parents?’
‘Funnier than your in-laws?’ I raised an eyebrow.
‘Hell, no! My in-laws are fucking mental!’ he said cheerily. ‘I’ve only met Jaqueline’s father once and that was enough. Charming but shifty. Like a Gallic used-car salesman. And her mother is terrifying.’
‘I remember,’ I said. ‘From the wedding. The speech she gave.’
‘About how she’d counselled her daughter against marrying me.’ He gave the plate a cursory wipe. ‘Yes, that was a highlight. Anyway, proved her wrong, didn’t I? Tenth wedding anniversary next year.’
‘It’s our twentieth in June,’ I said, running clean water into the sink. ‘Not that it’s a competition. But if it was, I’d be winning.’
‘Twenty years. I forgot you were a child bride.’
‘A heavily pregnant child bride if you recall.’
He returned the dry plate to the rack. ‘How was it that Aunty Jean described you walking down the aisle? Stately as a galleon?’
‘Just how every bride wants to be seen on her wedding day. A huge boat.’
‘Can’t believe Layla’s going to be twenty soon,’ he said, picking up a single spoon to dry. ‘It just seems impossible that my little sister has a child that age.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I said. ‘I’m sure I’ll feel the same when Hugo and Lawrence go off to university.’
‘I bet you’ll be a granny by then.’
‘Oh. My. God,’ I said severely. ‘Who thought it was a good idea to send you in here to help me wash up?’
He laughed. ‘You were the one projecting fifteen years into the future, Hattie. Don’t blame me. Anyway, who knows, the world might have blown up by then.’
‘Ahh.’ I patted his arm. ‘What a lovely festive thing to say.’
‘It’s true though. Just think how much has changed in the past two decades. It feels almost impossible to predict where we’ll be in another two. A whole new generation.’
‘Do you think this is how everyone feels when they hit middle age?’ I said, sluicing the roast potato crumbs down the sink and praying it wouldn’t clog. ‘A kind of dawning realisation that we’re now the grown-ups and we’re in charge of all this shit. And we need to keep it in some semblance of order so that our kids don’t inherit a complete car crash.’
‘I suppose it must be part of getting older.’ Rich picked up another spoon. ‘There’s more talk at work about legacy since I hit my fifties. Like, when you start out in business it’s all about climbing to the top, making your mark. But now people are starting to think about what they’re going to leave behind. How they’re going to be remembered. It’s definitely a shift in tone. But in terms of who’s in charge, it’ll be Layla’s lot soon enough. And god help us then – a load of snowflakes running the show.’
I opened my mouth ready to launch into a robust defence of my daughter’s peer group and the challenges they face, mainly ones that we’ve left them with, and how the weight of expectation on their shoulders probably feels crippling and howthat would be enough to test anyone’s mental resilience – but then I realised my brother was goading me, as he has since time began.
‘Gotcha,’ he said, smiling broadly. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s a few flaky kids about, but I think it’s safe to say that my niece won’t be one of them. Not when she’s got a share of my genes and is currently studying at the world’s finest academic institution.’
‘Second finest,’ I said, swiping him with the tea-towel. ‘After Nottingham.’
‘Nice try. But seriously, she seems like she’s enjoying herself? Coping with the work, making the most of the opportunities?’
I pulled a sceptical face, not sure how honest to be with my brother. He seemed to be in deep and meaningful mode, but you never can tell with him. ‘I think there have a been a few teething issues,’ I said, diplomatically. ‘Some of it’s just luck. Who you end up living with, who’s on your course, you know. But she’s made some good friends.’ I didn’t want to blow Layla’s cover completely. She’d just spent the past four hours reassuring her uncle that everything was completely brilliant, but I had seen the lie of it in her eyes and wondered whether Richard had too.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘It can take a while to settle in but once she does, honestly, she’s going to have such an amazing time. By the end of her first year, I bet she won’t even want to come home.’
He clocked my expression. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Shewillwant to come back. Of course she will. What I meant was – she’ll feelequallyas at home there as here. No, that’s not really helping, is it? Ignore me. I’ve had too much to drink.’
‘Yeah, and to be fair, you don’t really know how it feels,’ I said reasonably. ‘It’s years until your kids will leave home. So, just make sure you enjoy them while they’re around.’ I paused, my arms submerged beneath the bubbles in the sink. ‘Rich,’ I said, thinking I might not get this opportunity again. ‘Please don’tsend my lovely nephews to boarding school. They’re too little. And there’s so much you’ll miss if you’re not with them on a daily basis. It’ll fly by and one day in the not-too-distant future you’ll be washing up after Christmas dinner thinking, oh, I’ve only got them home for another week or so. Because that’s how it is for me now. When Layla’s back here there’s always a part of me that knows it’s temporary. Even when we’re all really enjoying ourselves – and there have been some lovely times already this holiday, decorating the tree, going to the carol service together, even pootling around the supermarket, it’s perfect – but there’s always a little voice in my head saying fifteen days left, twelve days left…’ I trailed off. ‘So yeah, I guess what I’m saying is don’t send your boys away before you need to.’
He nodded, his expression as serious as my tone. ‘They’re not going anywhere,’ he said. ‘I know Jaqueline sometimes moots the idea, but I think she just wants to toughen them up a bit, make them resilient. She hates the thought of either of them being vulnerable, like she was.’
‘I get it,’ I said. ‘But there’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable or sensitive or even clingy and emotional. Your Hugo, he’s just the most adorable, earnest little soul. He doesn’t need toughening up. They’re both perfect as they are. And they’d both miss you terribly. They talked about you the whole time they were here with me.’
He smiled fondly. ‘They had a lovely time, Hattie. Thanks for having them.’
