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

to

a cover, but hovers close as Georgie

never had a sister before.” Charlotte doesn’t

My two daughters…

the

up. “She looks like

“But there’s a touch of red in her hair

seat, coffee mug in her hands again, looking across the table. “So, you’re Michael?

going

about my ‘family arrangements’ with Charlotte and Michael. I’ll have to do it at some point, but now’s not the

Sailing foreign waters here…

politeness. “That’s right. Along with Charlotte here, of

a startled glance. “Oh… so…

then softens again.

few icebergs to

live here. You’re what? A

again. “Something

much is it bothering

you for letting me use one of your

in the smallest of messages… Don’t worry… and his easy smile is

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

but it needs longer for the beans to soften. I give it a

talking again, laughter jostling with annoyance in her

What’s she talking about?

I watch over the

“Does

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