Knit One Pearl One (10 page)

“Yes, but whatever gets you through the night?”

“I suppose so. Only next time I’m coming with you, and that’s final. I told Reg, I knew I should have come today. She spends so long in that church you’d think she’d have learnt a bit about Christian charity by now, but they’re often the worst ones. I’ve noticed that before, too busy being holier-than-thou to bother with being decent or kind.”

“Okay.”

“I thought you’d say no.”

“I think you might be right. Having you as backup would make it so much easier.”

“Yes, well, grandmother to grandmother, if she starts kicking off, she’ll get a piece of my mind and make no mistake about it.”

“I know, Gran. And thanks.”

“Good, well, that’s decided then. I might get to meet your lovely vicar.”

“If Elizabeth hasn’t worked out a way to get him defrocked or whatever they do to naughty vicars now. If fraternizing with unmarried mothers and their illegitimate babies is still a hanging offense, that is.”

“No, pet, they got past all that nonsense a while back, thank goodness. It used to be terrible. But that’s all changed. Just look at that Robin Williams.”

I think she might mean Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, although I’m sure Robin Williams takes a pretty tolerant line on unwed mothers too.

“He’s a lovely man, you can tell just by looking at him. If they were all like him, I’d go every Sunday. Far more important things to worry about than who is married or isn’t, or who is gay and who is, what’s that other thing they say?”

“Straight.”

“Yes, straight, silly word if you ask me, but still, thank heavens times have changed. People can choose now, and as long as they’re not hurting anybody, it’s nobody’s business but their own, is it, pet?”

“No, Gran.”

“Night, pet.”

“Night, Gran.”

I always feel better when I talk to Gran. Not that she won’t tell you if she thinks you’re wrong about something. But deep down I know she loves us all, pretty much unconditionally. There’s something terribly reassuring about knowing you have someone like her in your corner, come what may. I really want that for the kids, that certainty that I’m there for them, come what may. Only preferably not at 3:00 a.m.

I’m in the kitchen on Friday morning at the crack of bloody dawn, and Pearl is on saucepan patrol again when the phone rings.

“Morning, Jo.”

“Maxine, are you back yet? I was going to call you.”

“Yes, we got back last night, and she wants to see you. Yes, Grace, I’m just on the line to her now, yes.”

“Hello Jo. It seems ages since we’ve seen you. Come round, and bring the kids; Lily’s really getting into playing with other children.”

“I still can’t believe she’s two now.”

“I know, and she’s much taller than when you last saw her. She must get that from Jimmy. Let’s hope that’s all she gets.”

There hasn’t been much activity on the Jimmy Madden front for a while: he’s busy on a World Tour, with a series of the kinds of young women who usually hang around rock stars. So hopefully there won’t be any repeats of him turning up and wanting a paternal moment with Lily. I’m sure Grace is right and that was more to do with the launch of his new album. She handled it really well, but I could see she was upset. Thank God Bruno was there to escort him off the premises.

“Fix a time with Maxine. Oh, and bring some of the new colors, would you? I want to be inspired.”

“Sure.”

The line goes dead, and then there’s a click and Maxine comes back on. “Sorry about that. I think she’s missed you.”

We both laugh, but it’s an affectionate sort of laugh. That’s one of the things I like most about Maxine, she’s so loyal. However demanding Grace is being, Maxine always behaves as if she’s being completely reasonable, with only a faintly raised eyebrow or the occasional mild aside to me when she’s sure Grace can’t hear. It makes me feel like I’m part of the team and I really like that.

“What time works for you today?”

“Well, it’ll have to be after school if you’re sure you want me to bring the boys.”

“Great, I’ll get Sam to make snacks, and they can have a swim if that works for you?”

“That would be lovely.”

Sam’s food is always fabulous; being personal chef to Ms. Harrison means his version of snacks is everyone else’s version of a four-course meal.

“See you around four then.”

“Perfect.”

Bugger. So that’ll be me in my tragic swimsuit making sure nobody drowns their brother while Grace will be looking divine. And Martin’s coming round for supper later on, and I’d hoped I’d be looking halfway decent, rather than with my hair all tufty like it goes after swimming. Brilliant.

By the time I’m driving to Graceland after school, I’m seriously thinking of canceling. We were unusually busy in the shop with a group of women from Maidstone who’d come over specially to stock up, and then the till in the café jammed, and one of the reps came in to show me their new catalog and I had to spend ages haggling to get anywhere near a decent price. Jack’s got a special sticker for Good Helping, and Archie always hates it when Jack gets stickers.

“Mum, can we have ice cream, on the way home?”

“No, love, it’ll be too late.”

“Yes, but you said when we had an ice cream shop we could have ice cream every day and we don’t and that’s a lie. It’s not fair.”

“I did not, Archie, and stop whining. You’re very lucky to be going swimming after school.”

“I hate stupid swimming.”

Excellent.

There are a couple of cars parked on the shoulder of the road as we get close to the gates for the house, and some bored-looking snappers who don’t even bother to lift their cameras; they probably reckon exciting people don’t drive such tragic old cars. Bruno is waiting by the gates to buzz us in, with Tom and Jerry standing by his side, looking every inch the perfectly trained guard dogs. I must get him to have a word with Martin. He waves at us as we drive in, suddenly transformed from the scary security person keeping a beady eye on the photographers. The gardens are even more manicured than usual, presumably in honor of Grace’s return, as I park at the side next to a huge dark green Jeep and a silver Mercedes with tinted windows. They both look brand-new, sparkling in the last of the afternoon sunshine, and making ours look even worse than usual.

“Now remember, be polite, and no running, or shouting. Or singing, Archie. Let’s just have a lovely swim.”

He tuts.

Maxine opens the side door.

“Hi, Jo, Grace is on the phone, but Lily’s in the pool with Meg, so go straight through. Gosh, hasn’t she grown?”

I hand Pearl to Maxine, who looks pleased. She’s got a soft spot for small people, even though she pretends she hasn’t.

“Hello, Pearl, how are you?”

“More.”

By the time we’ve changed into our swimsuits and I’ve persuaded Pearl that she really does have to wear her swim nappy, and Archie that he doesn’t need his snorkel, I’m really going off the idea of a swim. But the water is lovely, and it feels very glamorous, swimming in an indoor pool surrounded by such opulence with views of the woods, and perfect lawns. Even the towels are superior.

“Hi, darling, how are you?”

Grace looks stunning, as usual, in a white swimsuit. I can’t imagine ever choosing white, black provides so much more in the way of camouflage, but she looks lovely. Lightly tanned, and not a millimeter of anything remotely wobbly. Ellen’s right, it’s like she’s from another species.

Lily takes a shine to Archie and paddles around the pool after him, much to Jack’s amusement. Pearl is bobbing around in the inflatable baby seat Lily used when she was little, having a brilliant time. I managed to jettison the tiara during a nifty bit of footwork involving slices of apple or she’d definitely be wearing it.

“Ten more minutes, Meg. I think Sam has made some food, Jo, if that’s okay with you. Chicken I think.”

“That sounds lovely, Grace, thank you.”

I enjoy a mini-daydream where I no longer have to cook suppers because my chef has them ready and waiting when I emerge from my pool. I can’t really see it somehow, but it must be wonderful. Actually, I’d settle for someone to cook the occasional supper and do without the pool. No more pondering what to do with a packet of mince or how I can persuade Archie to eat omelets.

“I’ll just do a few more laps, Jo. Take the kids out with Meg and I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

“Great.”

“More.”

I’m not sure Pearl is quite ready for her supper yet.

Maxine’s sitting at the huge refectory table in the kitchen drinking tea by the time we’re all changed. The kids are starving, but Sam has everything ready, so instead of the usual wait while I race to get a meal on the table and they get increasingly crabby, the food appears the minute we sit down. Roast chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans, and a toddler-friendly fruit salad with yogurt, with cartoons on in the background on the giant TV screen. Everyone is blissed out, and I half wish I wasn’t eating later with Martin because the chicken looks so lovely.

Grace reappears in jeans and a pretty cotton shirt, with bare feet. Even her feet are beautiful, with perfect red nail varnish that she definitely didn’t do herself.

“Let’s go and sit by the fire. Meg will watch them for a minute.”

“We’ll need to leave as soon as they’ve finished eating or Pearl will start kicking off. She’s tired and that’s always tricky.”

Meg smiles and nods at Lily. “Same here. But they’ll be fine for a bit, Jo.”

“Max, bring us in some more tea, would you. I want my herbal stuff, and did you bring the wool, Jo? I want to see the new colors.”

I lift the basket I made up in the shop earlier, with a selection of the cashmere and silk mixes she likes, and the soft baby cotton.

“There are some lovely new Italian ones, really fabulous colors, and they knit up beautifully. Connie helped me with the order, so the price isn’t that bad either.”

I follow her across the hall and into the small living room, which has new sofas and armchairs, in a lovely mix of blue florals and pale greens.

“She’s the one who’s pregnant, right?”

“Yes.”

Grace sits down in an armchair by the fire. “Show me. Oh, I love the pale lilac, pretty. Get me some of that, I want to make her another ballet wrap; she looks so sweet in them, and they’re so easy.”

“Okeydoke. So how was the trip?”

“The usual madness, hard work, but pretty good overall. We saw Daniel Fitzgerald in L.A., did Maxine say?”

“No, how was he?”

“Fine, busy being the jet-set photographer, surrounded by models as usual, but he showed me a picture of Pearl, the one you sent him from her birthday. He was very discreet about it, but he seemed very proud of it, it was sweet. So you’ve sorted it with him?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, and I’m sure it will get more complicated when she’s bigger, but so far so good. He calls, to check in how she’s doing, that kind of thing. It’s fine.”

“What about money?”

Grace is very up-front on stuff like this, just like Ellen. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve both of them on my case though.

“I really don’t want his money, Grace. It feels important that I’m taking care of us, all of us. It would be different if I couldn’t manage, but I can, and he did offer. I’ve told him to start a savings account for her, if he wants to, for when she’s bigger. I’ve still got some of Nick’s money for the boys, so that’ll give them all the same.”

“Good for you, darling. Sisters are doing it for themselves, yes?”

“Yes. Or doing it for their kids. And that reminds me, I keep meaning to say, you really don’t need to keep paying me, for the knitting coach thing, not when you’re so busy. I’ve hardly done anything lately, and that doesn’t feel right.”

“Yes, well, get over it. You’re my supplier, and I need my fix now, and anyway, us single parents have got to stick together.” She smiles.

“Thanks, Grace, that’s really kind, but seriously, I’d hate you to think you had to—”

“Darling, I don’t have to do anything, I know that. But I like having you on call, and that’s final. I’m surrounded by people taking a cut of my money, I know the type, and it’s just not you. Anyway, this new film I’ve just signed up for involves knitting, so you’ll be back in action before you know it.”

“Well, if you’re sure. What new film?”

“It’s not public yet.”

She gives me one of her Megastar looks. She moves backward and forward between being an ordinary person and suddenly going all VIP, and you have to be careful to mind the gap.

“Of course.”

“
Brideshead
meets
Upstairs Downstairs.
I’m the servant who becomes the Lady of the house, like that ever happened. They used to pack him off to the colonies, and she got the sack. But this is set around the First World War, so they’re running out of heirs. The scripts are written by two women, rather than one of those middle-aged men who all secretly yearn for the good old days when you could buy a scullery maid and still have change from sixpence. I can’t be bothered with that lot, they’re such snobs. We’ve spent ages getting the script right; I’m Exec-Producing this one too.”

“It sounds brilliant.”

She smiles, one of her megawatt smiles.

“I am pretty excited about it. She’s the gardener’s daughter, but she ends up the Toast of Society, instead of just Toast, which is what the dowager countess wants. So there’s comedy too, and I get to knit, in the gardener’s cottage, to show I’m a proper working-class girl. We’re shooting in the U.K., thank God, I’m so over living in fucking hotels. You can never get what you want, however much you pay. I’m so pleased to be home. Oh, great, tea. Thanks, Max.”

“Sorry I took so long. Ed rang, and he’d like to speak to you.”

“I don’t want to know. He’s my agent; he should be fixing things, not ringing me up with questions all the fucking time. Ring him back and say I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“Okay. Have you asked her?”

“Sorry?”

“About the party.”

Grace smiles. “I was just coming to that. I want to have a tea party for Lily. We had her birthday party in L.A.”