My mother emerged onto the roof in her slacks, gazing around her at the guests, and brushing moisture droplets from the fire escape off her trousers. ‘It really is quite something, this space of yours, Louisa. You could fit a hundred people up here.’ She was carrying a bag containing several bottles of champagne, and put it down carefully. ‘Did I tell you, I think you’re very brave getting up the confidence to come up here again?’
‘I still can’t believe you managed to fall off,’ observed my sister, who had been refilling glasses. ‘Only you could fall off a space this big.’
‘Well, she was drunk as a lord, love, remember?’ Mum headed back to the fire escape. ‘Where did you get all the champagne from, Louisa? This looks awful grand.’
‘My boss gave it to me.’
We had been cashing up a few nights previously, chatting (we chatted quite a lot now, especially since he’d had his baby. I knew more about Mrs Percival’s water retention than I think she would have been entirely comfortable with). I had mentioned my plans and Richard had disappeared, as if he hadn’t been listening. I had been ready to chalk it up as just another example of how Richard was still basically a bit of a wazzock, but when he re-emerged from the cellars a few minutes later he was holding a crate containing half a dozen bottles of champagne. ‘Here. Sixty per cent off. Last of the order.’ He handed me the box and shrugged. ‘Actually, sod it. Just take them. Go on. You’ve earned them.’
I had stuttered my thanks and he had muttered something about them being not a great vintage and the last of the line, but his ears had gone a tell-tale pink.
‘You could try to sound a bit pleased that I didn’t actually die.’ I passed Treena a tray of glasses.
‘Oh, I got over my “I wish I was an only child” thing ages ago. Well, maybe two years or so.’
Mum approached with a packet of napkins. She spoke in an exaggerated whisper: ‘Now, do you think these will be okay?’
‘Why wouldn’t they be?’
‘It’s the Traynors, isn’t it? They don’t use paper napkins. They’ll have linen ones. Probably with a coat of arms embroidered on them or something.’
‘Mum, they’ve travelled to the roof of a former office block in east London. I don’t think they’re expecting silver service.’
‘Oh,’ said Treena. ‘And I brought Thom’s spare duvet and pillow. I thought we might as well start bringing bits and bobs down every time we come. I’ve got an appointment to look at that after-school club tomorrow.’
‘It’s wonderful that you’ve got it all sorted out, girls. Treena, if you like, I’ll mind Thom for you. Just let me know.’
We worked around each other, setting out glasses and paper plates, until Mum disappeared to fetch more inadequate napkins. I lowered my voice so that she couldn’t hear. ‘Treen? Is Dad really not coming?’
My sister grimaced, and I tried not to look as dismayed as I felt.
‘Is it really no better?’
‘I’m hoping that when I’m gone they’ll have to talk to each other. They just skirt around each other and talk to me or Thom most of the time. It’s maddening. Mum’s pretending she doesn’t care that he didn’t come down with us, but I know she does.’
‘I really thought he’d be here.’
I had seen my mother twice since the shooting. She had signed up for a new course – modern English poetry – at the adult education centre and now grew wistful at symbols everywhere. Every blown leaf was a sign of impending decrepitude, every airborne bird a sign of hopes and dreams. We had gone once to a live reading of poetry on the South Bank, where she had sat rapt and applauded twice into the silence, and once to the cinema, then on to the loos at the smart hotel, where she had shared sandwiches with Maria in the two easy chairs of the cloakroom. Both times, when we had found ourselves alone, she had been oddly brittle. ‘Well, aren’t we having a lovely time?’ she would say repeatedly, as if challenging me to disagree. And then she would grow quiet or exclaim about the insane price of sandwiches in London.
Treena pulled the bench across, plumping up the cushions she had brought up from downstairs. ‘It’s Granddad I worry about. He doesn’t like all the tension. He changes his socks four times a day and he’s broken two of the buttons on the remote control by over-pressing.’
‘God – there’s a thought. Who would get custody?’
My sister stared at me in horror.
‘Don’t look at me,’ we said in unison.
We were interrupted by the first of the Moving On Circle, Sunil and Leanne, emerging from the cast-iron steps, remarking on the size of the roof terrace, the unexpectedly magnificent view over the east of the City.
Lily arrived at twelve on the dot, throwing her arms around me and letting out a little growl of happiness. ‘I love that dress! You look completely gorgeous.’ She was sun-kissed, her face open and freckled, the tiny hairs on her arms bleached white, clad in a pale blue dress and gladiator sandals. I watched her as she gazed around the roof terrace, clearly delighted to be there again. Camilla, making her way slowly up the fire escape behind her, straightened her jacket and walked over to me, an expression of mild admonishment on her face. ‘You could have waited, Lily.’
‘Why? You’re not some old person.’
Camilla and I exchanged wry glances, and then, almost impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She smelt of expensive department stores and her hair was perfect. ‘It’s lovely that you came.’
‘You’ve even looked after my plants.’ Lily was examining everything. ‘I just assumed you’d kill them all. Oh, and this! I like these. Are they new?’ She pointed to two pots I had bought at the flower market the previous week, to decorate the roof for today. I hadn’t wanted cut flowers, or anything that might die.
‘They’re pelargoniums,’ said Camilla. ‘You won’t want to leave them up here over the winter.’
‘She could put fleece over them. Those terracotta pots are heavy to take down.’
‘They still won’t survive,’ said Camilla. ‘Too exposed.’
‘Actually,’ I said, ‘Thom’s coming to live here and we’re not sure he would be safe on the roof, given what happened to me, so we’re shutting it off. If you’d like to take those with you afterwards …’
‘No,’ Lily said, after a moment’s thought. ‘Let’s leave it. It will be nice to just think of it like this. As it was.’
She helped me with a trestle table, and talked a little of school – she was happy there but struggling slightly with the work – and of her mother, who was apparently making eyes at a Spanish architect called Felipe, who had bought the house next door in St John’s Wood. ‘I feel almost sorry for Fuckface. He doesn’t know what’s about to hit him.’
‘But you’re okay?’ I said.
‘I’m fine. Life is pretty good.’ She popped a crisp into her mouth. ‘Granny made me go and see the new baby – did I tell you?’
I must have looked startled. ‘I know. But she said someone had to behave like a grown-up. She actually came with me. She was epically cool. I’m not meant to know but she bought a Jaeger jacket specially. I think she needed more confidence than she let on.’ She glanced over at Camilla, who was chatting to Sam over by the food table. ‘Actually, I felt a bit sad for my grandfather. When he thought nobody was looking he kept gazing at her, like he felt a bit sad at how it had all turned out.’
‘I still can’t believe you managed to fall off,’ observed my sister, who had been refilling glasses. ‘Only you could fall off a space this big.’
‘Well, she was drunk as a lord, love, remember?’ Mum headed back to the fire escape. ‘Where did you get all the champagne from, Louisa? This looks awful grand.’
‘My boss gave it to me.’
We had been cashing up a few nights previously, chatting (we chatted quite a lot now, especially since he’d had his baby. I knew more about Mrs Percival’s water retention than I think she would have been entirely comfortable with). I had mentioned my plans and Richard had disappeared, as if he hadn’t been listening. I had been ready to chalk it up as just another example of how Richard was still basically a bit of a wazzock, but when he re-emerged from the cellars a few minutes later he was holding a crate containing half a dozen bottles of champagne. ‘Here. Sixty per cent off. Last of the order.’ He handed me the box and shrugged. ‘Actually, sod it. Just take them. Go on. You’ve earned them.’
I had stuttered my thanks and he had muttered something about them being not a great vintage and the last of the line, but his ears had gone a tell-tale pink.
‘You could try to sound a bit pleased that I didn’t actually die.’ I passed Treena a tray of glasses.
‘Oh, I got over my “I wish I was an only child” thing ages ago. Well, maybe two years or so.’
Mum approached with a packet of napkins. She spoke in an exaggerated whisper: ‘Now, do you think these will be okay?’
‘Why wouldn’t they be?’
‘It’s the Traynors, isn’t it? They don’t use paper napkins. They’ll have linen ones. Probably with a coat of arms embroidered on them or something.’
‘Mum, they’ve travelled to the roof of a former office block in east London. I don’t think they’re expecting silver service.’
‘Oh,’ said Treena. ‘And I brought Thom’s spare duvet and pillow. I thought we might as well start bringing bits and bobs down every time we come. I’ve got an appointment to look at that after-school club tomorrow.’
‘It’s wonderful that you’ve got it all sorted out, girls. Treena, if you like, I’ll mind Thom for you. Just let me know.’
We worked around each other, setting out glasses and paper plates, until Mum disappeared to fetch more inadequate napkins. I lowered my voice so that she couldn’t hear. ‘Treen? Is Dad really not coming?’
My sister grimaced, and I tried not to look as dismayed as I felt.
‘Is it really no better?’
‘I’m hoping that when I’m gone they’ll have to talk to each other. They just skirt around each other and talk to me or Thom most of the time. It’s maddening. Mum’s pretending she doesn’t care that he didn’t come down with us, but I know she does.’
‘I really thought he’d be here.’
I had seen my mother twice since the shooting. She had signed up for a new course – modern English poetry – at the adult education centre and now grew wistful at symbols everywhere. Every blown leaf was a sign of impending decrepitude, every airborne bird a sign of hopes and dreams. We had gone once to a live reading of poetry on the South Bank, where she had sat rapt and applauded twice into the silence, and once to the cinema, then on to the loos at the smart hotel, where she had shared sandwiches with Maria in the two easy chairs of the cloakroom. Both times, when we had found ourselves alone, she had been oddly brittle. ‘Well, aren’t we having a lovely time?’ she would say repeatedly, as if challenging me to disagree. And then she would grow quiet or exclaim about the insane price of sandwiches in London.
Treena pulled the bench across, plumping up the cushions she had brought up from downstairs. ‘It’s Granddad I worry about. He doesn’t like all the tension. He changes his socks four times a day and he’s broken two of the buttons on the remote control by over-pressing.’
‘God – there’s a thought. Who would get custody?’
My sister stared at me in horror.
‘Don’t look at me,’ we said in unison.
We were interrupted by the first of the Moving On Circle, Sunil and Leanne, emerging from the cast-iron steps, remarking on the size of the roof terrace, the unexpectedly magnificent view over the east of the City.
Lily arrived at twelve on the dot, throwing her arms around me and letting out a little growl of happiness. ‘I love that dress! You look completely gorgeous.’ She was sun-kissed, her face open and freckled, the tiny hairs on her arms bleached white, clad in a pale blue dress and gladiator sandals. I watched her as she gazed around the roof terrace, clearly delighted to be there again. Camilla, making her way slowly up the fire escape behind her, straightened her jacket and walked over to me, an expression of mild admonishment on her face. ‘You could have waited, Lily.’
‘Why? You’re not some old person.’
Camilla and I exchanged wry glances, and then, almost impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She smelt of expensive department stores and her hair was perfect. ‘It’s lovely that you came.’
‘You’ve even looked after my plants.’ Lily was examining everything. ‘I just assumed you’d kill them all. Oh, and this! I like these. Are they new?’ She pointed to two pots I had bought at the flower market the previous week, to decorate the roof for today. I hadn’t wanted cut flowers, or anything that might die.
‘They’re pelargoniums,’ said Camilla. ‘You won’t want to leave them up here over the winter.’
‘She could put fleece over them. Those terracotta pots are heavy to take down.’
‘They still won’t survive,’ said Camilla. ‘Too exposed.’
‘Actually,’ I said, ‘Thom’s coming to live here and we’re not sure he would be safe on the roof, given what happened to me, so we’re shutting it off. If you’d like to take those with you afterwards …’
‘No,’ Lily said, after a moment’s thought. ‘Let’s leave it. It will be nice to just think of it like this. As it was.’
She helped me with a trestle table, and talked a little of school – she was happy there but struggling slightly with the work – and of her mother, who was apparently making eyes at a Spanish architect called Felipe, who had bought the house next door in St John’s Wood. ‘I feel almost sorry for Fuckface. He doesn’t know what’s about to hit him.’
‘But you’re okay?’ I said.
‘I’m fine. Life is pretty good.’ She popped a crisp into her mouth. ‘Granny made me go and see the new baby – did I tell you?’
I must have looked startled. ‘I know. But she said someone had to behave like a grown-up. She actually came with me. She was epically cool. I’m not meant to know but she bought a Jaeger jacket specially. I think she needed more confidence than she let on.’ She glanced over at Camilla, who was chatting to Sam over by the food table. ‘Actually, I felt a bit sad for my grandfather. When he thought nobody was looking he kept gazing at her, like he felt a bit sad at how it had all turned out.’
