Фиона Гибсон – Pedigree Mum (страница 3)
‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll bother. Maybe I should leave kite flying to those alpha-dad types.’ Rob grins, putting an arm around Kerry’s shoulders.
‘Well,’ she says, ‘that box kite probably took six weeks to build, and I bet he’s president of some horribly competitive kite-flying club …’
‘And the kid hates it,’ Rob cuts in. ‘He’d much rather be at home, plugged into his Xbox …’
‘Have you noticed how he hasn’t let the boy have a go?’ Kerry has barely spoken when the man hands the kite’s controls to his small, eager son who continues to manoeuvre it in majestic swoops.
‘There must be some different kind of air pocket system going on there,’ Rob says, taking a bite of a muffin. ‘These are delicious by the way.’
‘Thanks. New recipe.’
‘Excellent work, Mrs Tambini.’
She laughs, kissing him lightly on the lips, relieved that she managed to persuade him to come down here today. The children are clearly enjoying it too, having wandered off back to the water’s edge.
‘D’you think it’s okay,’ Rob ventures, ‘Freddie wandering about in his pants like that?’
‘It’s a beach,’ she laughs. ‘Of course it is, as long as no one realises they’re from Primark. We’ll probably be arrested if they do.’
Rob smiles. ‘You really like it here, don’t you?’
‘I love it, even though it’s gone posh. I always have, ever since I was a kid.’ She glances at him, deciding not to ask him again whether they should take up her Aunt Maisie’s offer of buying her home on the Shorling seafront at a ridiculously low price. Admittedly, the cottage needs work, but it’s the perfect size, with a great primary school within walking distance. Maisie is keen to move to Spain where her oldest schoolfriend, Barbara, has an apartment. She’s out there now, ready to embrace a new life, and Kerry feels she, Rob and the children are too. Rob has cautiously agreed that London is commutable – seventy minutes by train – and as a freelance songwriter, she could easily live and work here. And the children, who have now joined forces to build a sandcastle, would love it …
Rob strolls over to help them dig a moat, and Freddie squeals with delight every time a wave rushes in to fill it. As she watches the three of them digging frantically, Kerry is overcome by a surge of love for her husband. Rob seems to have been struggling at work lately, no doubt due to a clear out of virtually all of the old, faithful team. His new editor sounds utterly obnoxious, so is it any wonder he’s seemed a bit distant and distracted?
Kerry gets up to join her family, helping to reinforce the moat’s walls after each wave.
‘We’re winning against the sea!’ Freddie yells until their castle finally melts away.
‘Let’s try the kite again,’ Rob suggests, ‘now that over-achiever with the box kite has gone.’
Perhaps because the pressure’s off, this time the kite soars up easily – a canary-yellow diamond against a dazzling blue sky.
‘Here, you try,’ he says, passing the spool to Freddie while Mia claps delightedly.
‘You did it, Daddy!’ she cries.
‘Hero,’ Kerry murmurs teasingly. ‘Kite maestro superstar.’
‘Hey, it was nothing.’ Rob chuckles, his smile dissolving as the kite spins erratically before dive-bombing a child-free couple who have just set out their picnic
‘It’s fine,’ the woman snaps. ‘
‘Shit-bollocks,’ Freddie sniggers into his hand as his father returns, brushing cous-cous off the kite with the flat of his hand.
It doesn’t spoil the day though. The afternoon drifts by in a pleasant blur, and Rob is even persuaded by Mia to roll up his pristine Levi’s and have a paddle. The muffins are devoured, plus delicious crab sandwiches from a nearby cafe. The children are engrossed in playing with a bouncy white terrier now, throwing a wrecked tennis ball for him with the approval of his elderly lady owner.
‘I wish we had a dog,’ Mia announces. ‘Why can’t we have one, Mummy?’
‘Please don’t start on about that now,’ Kerry says, resting her head on Rob’s shoulder.
He turns to her in the pinkish evening light and gently brushes a strand of hair from her eyes. ‘This is beautiful, Kerry. I don’t think I’ve ever realised how lovely it is to be by the sea.’
‘It’s been a perfect day,’ she agrees. ‘We should come down here more often.’
He nods, and there’s a pause, as if he’s taking care to choose the right words. ‘You know what? I think we should do it. We should take up Maisie’s offer and move here.’
She sits up and stares at him for a moment, wary of overreacting and causing him to backtrack. Then, unable to help herself, she flings her arms around his broad shoulders and kisses him long and hard on the lips.
‘Are you sure?’ she says finally. ‘You’re not feeling pushed into it, are you?’
‘No, I’m not. Look at this place, and how the kids are here – it’s so much better for them than a tiny backyard …’
‘Well,
‘Let’s talk to her,’ Rob says, ‘as soon as she comes back from Spain.’
Kerry nods. ‘Okay.’ Closing her hand around his, she squeezes it tightly. ‘It’ll be great for us,’ she adds. ‘I can just feel it, Rob. I think it’ll turn out to be one of the best things we’ve ever done.’
Chapter Two
Certain activities should be left until the children are safely tucked up in bed. Sewing falls into this category. With all the swearing and blood loss involved, it’s best not undertaken with impressionable young people around. Kerry has already acquired a repetitive injury from jabbing herself with a needle; all this to stitch a few name tapes onto school uniforms for the new term ahead. Could she get away with writing their names in biro on the wash-care labels instead? It’s considered slovenly, Kerry knows this, but surely it’s better than sending the children to their new school in blood-stained tops?
As a fresh scarlet bead seeps from the wound, Kerry manages to
The small, compact seaside town had a very different vibe when she spent childhood holidays here, in this very house where her Aunt Maisie used to live. Back then, the place bustled with visitors eating burgers on the seafront and children plucking tufts from pink candyfloss clouds. Where the town once smelt of fried onions, these days it’s all organic bakeries and seafood restaurants. Apparently, more scallops and langoustines are consumed per capita in Shorling than anywhere else in Britain. Eating a doughnut in public would probably have you shot. The Gold Rush Arcade is now a Wagamama, the World’s Biggest Museum of Tattoo Art has become a glass-walled restaurant filled with glossy people tackling crustaceans with an impressive array of little metal tools. The bleach-blonde ladies in velour tracksuits who once ran the numerous B&Bs – where did they all go, Kerry wonders? – have been replaced by glowing-skinned women with long, glossy hair, perfect teeth and children called Lottie and Felix.
Of course, it had been clear on kite-flying day that Shorling had gone upmarket. But it wasn’t until they’d actually moved that the extent of the transformation had truly sunk in. Still, Kerry reflects, at least there’s one final week of summer holidays. She’d noticed a sign advertising a children’s end-of-summer beach party, and if Freddie and Mia could make some new friends, surely starting school would be a little easier. And what about her? Without lurking weirdly around the dog-walking women who hang out on Shorling beach, she hasn’t the faintest idea how she’ll meet anyone. Maybe it’ll be easier at the school gates. Even more important, then, that Mia and Freddie’s names aren’t biro-ed on.
This flicker of optimism leads Kerry to picturing Rob selling their London home. Although it’s on with an agency, Rob is adamant that estate agents are clueless, and that as deputy editor of a men’s magazine, he is far better equipped to point out its numerous Unique Selling Points. Reassuring herself that the house