‘When was she ever in your good books, Elizabeth?’ Bry counters, trying not to get defensive. Ash and Elizabeth love nothing more than taking the piss out of Bry’s hippie friends.
Elizabeth nods in agreement. ‘Yes, that’s fair.’
‘I saw her in Waitrose yesterday,’ Ash says, leaning forward for a crisp. ‘I was at the cheese counter and heard her beads and bells and whatever clanking together all the way over from the vegan bit. I tried to pretend I hadn’t seen her, but she caught me.’
‘Clemmie, eat some fish, please,’ Elizabeth interjects before turning to Ash and continuing, ‘I fear for you, Ashy, there is no escape in Farley.’ Only Elizabeth gets away with calling Ash ‘Ashy’.
‘Don’t I bloody know it,’ he says. Elizabeth frowns briefly at his swearing in front of the kids, but neither Ash nor the kids notice. ‘I’ll never get used to bumping into people. I just don’t understand why anyone would want to have a bollocks, awkward conversation in the street about nothing when we could just nod or wave or something. Seriously, if I want to see you, I’ll message and arrange to meet up, but why do we have to stop and talk about the weather just because we happen to live close to each other and be walking down the same bit of pavement at the same time? I don’t get it.’
Elizabeth is frowning openly at Ash now, before she shakes her head and says, ‘It’s called community, Ashy.’
‘No, it’s not; it’s called a waste of bloody time.’
Elizabeth keeps talking, ignoring Ash.
‘It’s called getting to know your neighbours, being responsible, caring for one another.’
Ash wrinkles his nose in mock distaste.
‘Nope. Not for me.’
‘Honestly, you can take the boy out of North London but you can’t take North London out of the boy.’
‘Amen to that.’
They’d moved to Farley two years ago, leaving Ash’s beloved North London, where his elderly parents have lived ever since they moved to Britain from New Delhi fifty years ago. Ash had lived every one of his first forty-five years in London but he left willingly because Bry promised clean air for their daughter, less stress for Ash, and more like-minded people. Ash’s suits have been replaced with shorts and flip-flops; he’s grown a beard which is more grey than black, and he seems to have his old Ray-Bans welded to the top of his head. Before they moved, he’d sold the online digital marketing company he’d spent over a decade building, a company that cost him his first marriage and means he can only talk about his two sons’ early years in a vague way, like a kindly uncle and not their dad. When everything broke down with his first wife Linette, Ash had pretty much sworn his life away, decided he’d marry his work. He’d make a lot of money, buy all the best shit and intimidate his employees. He’d live in Zone 1 and date women to make other men jealous. It would be a cold existence but it would be reliable. But then all this had gone to hell when Bry, with her long, dark hair and chocolate eyes, bounced into his life at a work event. He promised Bry – actually swore and cried – that he’d never, ever let work take priority over everything else again. So he didn’t take too much convincing to move to Farley – a town they knew they both liked after visiting the Chamberlains for weekend breaks from London.
The Chamberlain kids have all finished their fish pie, but they know they have to wait for Alba to finish before getting the fruit salad that’s waiting for them in the kitchen. Three sets of eyes watch as Alba crams the last forkful of smudgy potato and fish into her mouth before clattering her fork down and clapping.
Charlie clears all the plates into the kitchen before coming back out with the fruit salad, and punches Max on the arm when his elder brother starts spooning their pudding into the waiting bowls – ‘Max knows it’s my favourite job!’ he wails to his mum.
With an aggravated sigh, Elizabeth says, ‘Max, you know the one who clears the table gets to serve pudding. Stop upsetting your brother.’
Once peace is restored and the kids are bent over their bowls again, a large figure fills the French doors to the kitchen, and Jack calls out, ‘Surprise!’
There are cries of ‘Daddy!’ from around the table before Jack Chamberlain makes loud smacking noises as he kisses all four of the kids, pausing to be introduced surreptitiously to Dandelion as Elizabeth says, glancing at her watch, ‘You finished early!’
Jack’s cheeks redden slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. Once he’s done with the kids, he makes a show of kissing all the adults too – even Ash on both cheeks – making Charlie and Max laugh. Ash pours his friend some wine and Jack tugs his tie, loosening it from around his neck. He’s not ready to sit down, not yet, the energy from the city still quickening through him. Bry offers him some crisps but Jack shakes his head and pats his only slightly domed stomach.