Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Not true, Dad,” Beau says. “I’ve called you a lot worse.”
“Yes, but I haven’t answered to it. Dog,” he shouts at nothing in particular.
“Sometimes you answer to Grumpy Knickers,” Carole says.
“Carole,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Come in, come in,” Carole says. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to set you to work. I’m really behind cooking dinner. I’ve been on Zooms all day.”
“Have you been working, Mum?” Beau asks.
“Not really. Just meetings and things. You know how it is.”
“She doesn’t think it’s work because she hasn’t got her scalpel out,” John says. “But it’s work, just the same. Dog!”
Just then a Labrador comes tearing around the corner heading for the four of us.
“Here he is.”
“This is Dog,” Beau says. “Very creative name, I’m sure you can agree. Dad named him.”
“I never claimed to be creative,” John says. “I’m a scientist. I leave artistry to the people who are good at it.”
“Creativity gets better the more you use it. Just like anything else,” I say. “And anyway, I think Dog is the funniest name I could ever imagine for a dog. It’s very creative.”
“I like her,” John says, tipping his head at me as he talks to his wife. “Even if she is American.”
I laugh. “I like you too, John.”
As we go in, Beau has to bend so he doesn’t bang his head on the lintel.
“This is so charming,” I say, taking in the terracotta tile on the floor, the low, beamed ceilings and the tiny windows. “It’s like how I imagined England would be before I came here and stayed at the Dorchester.”
Carole chuckled. “She’s funny. Thank god. I did worry when you said you were bringing an American, but then Vincent makes me laugh all the time. You need a sense of humor in this family.”
Carole’s acting like we’re getting married or something. I glance at Beau but it doesn’t seem to have registered with him.
“You’re laughing at him, not with him, Mum,” Beau says. Carole rolls her eyes.
“Come through to the kitchen, get yourself settled, we’ll get you a cup of tea and then I’m going to set you to work. You’re the first to arrive but we have a cast of thousands descending.”
“Bloody children. Someone told me,” John points animatedly at his wife, “that because we had boys, we’d never see them again once they’d gone off to university. Can’t get bloody rid of them. Are you going to take this one back to America? Get him off our hands?”
He pulls out a pine chair from the kitchen table and I take a seat, watching the whirlwind of activity in front of me.
“Ignore him,” Carole says. “We need pinnies. Which one do you want? Did I tell you Vincent got me an apron, just like Jacob’s?” she asks Beau. “I’m going to wear that one, because Jacob’s face will be a picture—if you pardon the pun.” She pulls some things out of a drawer. “Look at this, Vivian. My son, Jacob, got me an apron with his face all over it. He likes to wind up his brothers and say that he’s my favorite. He is of course, and he’s by far the most handsome out of all my boys, but I don’t tell them.”
“Hey,” Beau says. “You’re not supposed to have favorites.”
Carole looks at me and rolls her eyes as if the two of us are in on the joke. “I can’t help it. Vincent’s my favorite now. She hooks an apron over her head and as it unfurls, about twenty different images of a very handsome man’s face stare back at me.
“You wear Jacob.” She flings another apron at Beau. “Vivian, you can have one with dragonflies on it or a blue- and white-striped chef’s apron.”
“I’m having that one,” says John, and I can’t help but laugh.
No one’s standing on ceremony, treading on eggshells or fawning over me.
And I love it.
I find a hair tie in my jeans pocket and pull my hair back. My shirt sleeves are rolled up and I make a start on peeling the apples.
“You okay there?” Carole asks me. Beau and his dad have been sent out to collect mint and a bay leaf from the garden.
“Happy as a pig in shit,” I reply and then wince. “Excuse my language.” I toss the newly peeled apple in my hand into a bowl of water and then move on to the next.
“If you haven’t already heard far worse than shit out of John’s mouth about his own sons, I’ll be surprised. We don’t get offended by swearing around here.”
She’s so warm and joyful, it’s easy to feel comfortable around her.
“You’re very close. And loving with each other. It’s wonderful,” I say.
“I’m very lucky,” Carole replies. “Are you close with your family?”
“We’re not not close,” I reply. “But we all have very different lives. My brother and sister are older and married—not to each other, you’ll be pleased to know. They live twenty minutes from my parents and thirty minutes from each other. I see them a few times a year and I speak to my mom most weeks.”