Richard

James stirs his bean and sausage concoction. It’s bubbling, smelling good. Then, heading for the larder, he returns with olive oil, eggs and garlic. Elizabeth and Charlotte sit together with Mitch, and I exchange chit-chat with Michael.

Humming to himself, James cracks a garlic bulb into its cloves, smashing each one with the flat of his knife onto a wooden board. Skin picked out, the pulp goes into his mortar. Pestle in hand, he’s just starting to grind when the front-door knocker raps.

James turns as though to make to head for the door, but I wave him back. “I’ll get it.”

At the door, Georgie waits, a wine bottle in one hand, a bunch of daffodils in the other. “Hi. I think my Dad’s expecting me?”

“He is, yes, Georgie. Everyone’s in the kitchen. Come on through.”

In the kitchen, she marches to the table, thrusting the flowers at Charlotte, her words spilling out in a rush. “I wanted to apologise to you properly. I behaved dreadfully the first time we met. I wish I hadn’t. I'm sorry.”

Charlotte gives a tentative smile. “That's okay. I think maybe I over-reacted the other day. It must have been a shock for you, meeting me that first time. Here, sit down...” She gestures to the next chair. “Why don’t we get to know each other, instead of making assumptions. Would you like some tea? Or coffee maybe?”

“Coffee, please... Oh… “Georgie raises fingers to her mouth, glancing across to James… “unless it's that dreadful stuff Dad drinks? That stuff you coat roads with.”

Charlotte laughs. “We don’t use it on the roads now. But I think Michael’s got a bucket in the woodshed for clearing the hotel drains.”

From his spot by the counter, pestle in hand, James pauses from grinding garlic. “I'll make a fresh pot.”

“It’s alright, James…” I say. “I’ll do it. If you make it, we’ll just have another supply for Michael to asphalt the shed roof.”

*****

James

clutches her coffee in cupped palms, her body rigid. Her eyes slide to the carry-cot next

relaxes, a little at least. “I suppose.” She flips back a cover, but hovers close as Georgie stoops over the cot, looking at the sleeping

never had a sister before.” Charlotte doesn’t comment, but I

My two daughters…

the first

“She

say. “But there’s a touch of red in

to her seat, coffee mug in her hands again, looking across the table. “So, you’re Michael? Is that right?” Her

he going to handle

about my ‘family arrangements’ with Charlotte and Michael. I’ll have to do it

Sailing foreign waters here…

settles for bland politeness. “That’s right. Along

her a startled glance. “Oh…

falters then softens again.

with a few icebergs

Dad and Charlotte live here. You’re

again. “Something

much is

use one of

Georgie.” But his eyes flick to mine, eyelids drooping in the smallest of messages… Don’t

the hob and the pan lid rattles. “’Scuse me,” I say. “I need to check

beans to soften. I give it

Georgie is talking again, laughter jostling with annoyance in her voice. “Doesn't it

What’s she talking about?

the potatoes with my knifepoint, I watch

frowns. “Does what

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