‘Oh yeah, right. I was wondering what was going on with that,’ Row says, her tone slightly tinted with disdain, as though Elizabeth has been sloppy letting the issue slide when Elizabeth does more for the whole community than anyone else, a fact that people seem to admire yet also pisses them off in equal measure. Bry is used to Elizabeth being divisive. She understands it – sometimes Elizabeth pisses her off too – but she still bristles slightly at Row’s tone. Like a sibling, she feels that she is justified in highlighting Elizabeth’s failings – how uptight and controlling she can be – but she can’t abide anyone else doing so, even her own husband, Ash.
‘Lil, shoelace!’ Row calls to her daughter, and the four of them stop so Lily can retie her lace before Row continues, ‘So, does it feel weird doing school pick-up? Alba will be here in September, won’t she?’
Bry tries to picture her four-year-old daughter not in her usual choice of outfit – yellow wellies and pink tutu, perhaps – but wearing the same blue gingham dress and black shoes as Lily and Clemmie. She imagines Alba shaking her little brown head and saying, ‘Not wearing it, Mumma.’
It makes her heart flood and break simultaneously. ‘God, don’t. It’s such a weird thought.’
‘I know, I know. But everyone feels like that, trust me. I cried and cried after I dropped Lil off the first time. But then, you know, suddenly you have all this time and it’s amazing, so …’
Bry nods; she does this a lot when she’s with Row.
‘Clemmie, what do you think about Alba coming to Nettlestone after the summer holidays?’ Bry asks.
Clemmie’s head shoots up from her hushed conversation with Lily and she says, ‘Baby Alba’s coming to my school?’
Bry nods, smiles, and Clemmie jumps up and down a couple of times. From her kneeling position on the pavement, Lily watches Clemmie, confused.
‘Why do you like her so much?’ she asks.
‘Baby Alba is like my little sister,’ Clemmie explains patiently, still celebrating. ‘Isn’t she, Auntie Bry?’
Bry leans forward, kisses Clemmie on the top of her head, and says, ‘Oh, that’s a lovely thing to say, Clem, so nice for Alba to have a big sister … Just make sure she doesn’t hear you call her Baby Alba,’ she adds with a wink, as though it’s their secret how cross Alba gets when people do that.
Clemmie turns to Lily and says seriously, ‘Alba
The girls start to skip on and Row’s about to take Bry’s arm again when Bry notices the corner shop on the other side of the road is open.
‘Actually, Row, I think we’ll leave you here. I’ve got to pick up a few bits.’
‘Oh, OK,’ Row says, pulling her arm away. ‘See you on Saturday then?’
‘Saturday?’
Row laughs at Bry, her eyes widening in genuine surprise as Bry adds quickly, trying to cover up her forgetfulness, ‘Oh yeah, yeah, Elizabeth’s barbecue.’ She lifts her eyebrows, to show that she exasperates herself sometimes, before calling to Clemmie, holding her small hand in her own as they cross the quiet road.
‘Bye, Lily, bye, Row!’ Clemmie waves; Lily waves back and Row blows them a kiss before taking her phone out of her pocket as she shoos Lily on.
In the shop, Bry heads straight to the ice cream fridge. ‘Choose whatever you like.’
‘Anything?’ ‘Anything.’
They spend the next five minutes agonising over whether Clemmie would like chocolate with sprinkles or strawberry ice cream more, before she decides to have the same multi-coloured ice lolly as Bry.
Bry pays, forgetting the bread and milk Ash said they needed at home, and the two of them leave hand in hand, their ice lollies already melting in the afternoon sun, a medley of red, orange and yellow creeping down their wrists.
‘There you are!’
Elizabeth is standing, hands on hips, outside the Chamberlain family home, a Victorian house, the sun casting dappled shadows through the magnolia tree in the small front garden. She looks like a mother from the past in her red striped apron, her dark blonde bob held back from her face by two clips, and she’s wearing proper make-up – eye-liner and lipstick – presumably for her meeting. She’s also holding a bottle of white wine Bry immediately recognises as the Sancerre Ash buys in bulk.
‘Mummy!’ Clemmie skips towards her, presses her lips to Elizabeth’s.
Elizabeth takes her hand and says, ‘Poppet, you’re so sticky!’ ‘Auntie Bry and me had lollies,’ she says, sticking out her colourful tongue as evidence.
‘Auntie Bry
Bry shrugs. ‘Godmother’s privilege,’ she says, showing Elizabeth her own coloured tongue before kissing her friend’s cheek.