Lilly came out into the hallway.
‘Thanks.’ Clodagh smiled up at Joshua as she closed the front door.
‘S’okay.’
Joshua Vaughan’s face broke into a smile that quite changed him.
‘Do you ... do you like dinosaurs?’ Apollo asked, standing by the man’s leg. His little voice speaking quickly, his breathing loud, the only clues to suggest that seeing his parents shout at each other had upset him.
‘I do.’ He nodded.
‘Do you like sticks?’ was the little boy’s next question, a little calmer now.
‘Some sticks, not all of them.’
‘Do you like playing cars?’
‘Yes.’
‘What is your favourite kind of pasta?’ Apollo asked with his usual wide-eyed smile of interest, which was most endearing.
‘Erm...’ Joshua looked skyward, as if considering this. ‘I quite like the swirly corkscrew stuff. What about you?’
‘Pasketti.’ Apollo spoke as ifthiswas the definitive answer before running off.
‘I see, pasketti!’ Joshua nodded.
Clodagh laughed, looking up at the man and smiling, as if seeing him for the first time; this young man who had very obviously shown up for her.
It was as ironic as it was conflicting that the one good thing that might come out of the harrowing possibility of losing her home was that the bearer of all the bad news might just be the person who brought joy to Clodagh and Apollo. Lilly honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
1973 – aged 17
Lilly looked up, letting the sun glance on her face as she sat on the bench outside the Tate Gallery on Millbank.
‘How was your weekend?’ Glenda asked, as she pulled the lid from the shallow Tupperware box and sniffed the contents, before pulling out a decidedly limp white bread triangle from its confines, pasted together with Heinz Sandwich Spread. ‘Want one?’ She pushed the box towards Lilly.
‘No, thanks.’ Glenda’s food tastes were a little different to hers. The glorious memory of that deep-fried skate wing, slathered with butter, still lingered on her tongue. A culinary triumph for her dad. Or maybe in the light of her awakening with Wilkie, food just tasted better, in the way that colours seemed brighter, music more meaningful and the world a generally rosier place to be. ‘Yeah, weekend was great. What about yours?’
It was tricky; Glenda was undoubtedly her friend, her best friend, and yet Lilly wasn’t sure how she’d react to the fact that Lilly had spent the weekend frolicking beneath the covers with her older lover. She smiled at the secret that filled her with joy and felt the golden glow of excitement, counting down the hours, minutes and seconds until she got to see him again and strip his clothes off. Her dad had no plans to go away again any time soon, so she had agreed this weekend to go to Wilkie’s digsin Royal Avenue, where, against the strict rules of the Chelsea boarding house run by the magnificently named Mrs Helen Horn-Haverington, Wilkie planned to sneak her in under the cover of darkness! It was illicit, daring, and all the more thrilling because of it. Her face broke into a smile at the thought as her skin tingled at the memory of his touch.
‘Norm and I drove to Southend. Took the Cortina for a run.’
It made Lilly smile, the way she made the Cortina sound like a pet.
‘That sounds nice.’
‘Well, it would have been, but his mum decided to come, too, and she insisted on sitting in the front. Not much I could say about that, was there?’ Glenda bit into her sandwich, her demeanour decidedly downcast.
‘I suppose not.’
‘I was stuck in the back for what felt like hours, and his mother, Mrs Glaser, didn’t shut up, not for a second, going on and on about their neighbours, Norm’s school days, his wayward brother, Barry, the time he got lost on a trip to Canvey Island. God, Lil, it was incessant. I imagined wrapping the seatbelt around her neck and strangling her.’
‘Probably not the best way to endear yourself to the future in-laws.’
‘True, but I was still tempted. It was bloody awful.’
‘Sounds it.’ Lilly felt sorry for Glenda, who had had her weekend hijacked by Mrs Glaser, the chatterbox. It explained to her why Norman was so quiet; he’d probably spent his life trying to get a word in edgeways.
