“Indeed.” Elinor gives me a stony look. “Well, Luke, if you don’t have time—”
“Of course I’ve got time,” says Luke, shooting me a glance of annoyance. “It won’t be a problem.”
Great. Now they’re both pissed off with me.
Mum has been watching this exchange in slight bewilderment, and as the tea arrives her face clears in relief.
“Just what the doctor ordered!” she exclaims as a waiter places a teapot and silver cake stand on our table. “Elinor, shall I pour for you?”
“Have a scone,” says Dad heartily to Elinor. “And some clotted cream?”
“I don’t think so.” Elinor shrinks slightly as though cream particles might be floating through the air and invading her body. She takes a sip of tea, then looks at her watch. “I must go, I’m afraid.”
“What?” Mum looks up in surprise. “Already?”
“Luke, could you fetch the car?”
“Absolutely,” says Luke, draining his cup.
“What?” Now it’s my turn to stare. “Luke, what’s going on?”
“I’m going to drive my mother to the airport,” says Luke.
“Why? Why can’t she take a taxi?”
As the words come out of my mouth I realize I sound a bit rude — but honestly. This was supposed to be a nice family meeting. We’ve only been here about three seconds.
“There are some things I need to discuss with Luke,” says Elinor, picking up her handbag. “We can do so in the car.” She stands up and brushes an imaginary crumb off her lap. “So nice to meet you,” she says to Mum.
“You too!” exclaims Mum, leaping up in a last-ditch attempt at friendliness. “Lovely to meet you, Elinor! I’ll get your number from Becky and we can have some nice chats about what we’re going to wear! We don’t want to clash with each other, do we?”
“Indeed,” says Elinor, glancing at Mum’s shoes. “Good-bye, Rebecca.” Elinor nods at Dad. “Graham.”
“Good-bye, Elinor,” says Dad in an outwardly polite voice — but as I glance at him I can tell he’s not at all impressed. “See you later, Luke.” As they disappear through the doors, he looks at his watch. “Twelve minutes.”
“What do you mean?” says Mum.
“That’s how long she gave us.”
“Graham! I’m sure she didn’t mean…” Mum breaks off as she notices the blue “His Mum” book, still lying on the table amid the wrapping paper. “Elinor’s left her wedding planner behind!” she cries, grabbing it. “Becky, run after her.”
“Mum…” I take a deep breath. “I wouldn’t bother. I’m not sure she’s that interested.”
“I wouldn’t count on her for any help,” says Dad. He reaches for the clotted cream and piles a huge amount onto his scone.
“Oh.” Mum looks from my face to Dad’s — then slowly subsides into her seat, clutching the book. “Oh, I see.”
She takes a sip of tea, and I can see her struggling hard to think of something nice to say.
“Well… she probably just doesn’t want to interfere!” she says at last. “It’s completely understandable.”
But even she doesn’t look that convinced. God, I hate Elinor.
“Mum, let’s finish our tea,” I say. “And then why don’t we go to the sales?”
“Yes,” says Mum after a pause. “Yes, let’s do that! Now you mention it, I could do with some new gloves.” She takes a sip of tea and looks more cheerful. “And perhaps a nice bag.”
“We’ll have a lovely time,” I say, and squeeze her arm. “Just us.”
FRANTON, BINTON AND OGLEBY
Attorneys At Law
739 Third Avenue
Suit 503
New York, NY 10017
Miss Rebecca Bloomwood
251 W. 11th Street, Apt. B
New York, NY 10014
February 11, 2002
Dear Miss Bloomwood:
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