Something Old, Something New

Downstairs, I pull flour and sugar out of the cupboard and get the milk out of the fridge. The kettle is bubbling away and Henry and Anabelle are sitting at the kitchen table chatting about the best methods to trap the errant bugs. Apparently, a snare would be a good plan but they’re not sure that they have enough wire outside in the playhouse. I make a mental note to find said wire and dispose of it. Where they’ve found wire I do not know, and how they would create a snare small enough to trap a cricket is beyond me, but their earnestness makes me smile.

The early morning sunlight streams through the window and across the kitchen floor, warming the tiles and creating a golden glow that suggests the day ahead will be fine. It lifts me, the promise of good weather, and I think that Anabelle may well be lucky and get her trip to the park. I try to avoid looking at the calendar that hangs from the wall by the door, because I know that it will dampen my mood. Four days of half-term left before we all return to school, and I know that those four days will fly. So I vow to make them count.

I measure out the ingredients then begin to beat them together into a thick batter. ‘Do you want blueberries with these?’ I ask my youngest children.

‘Yes please!’ they reply in unison.

‘Can you get them out of the fridge then, Henry?’

He does as I ask then heads for the sink. I have taught him well; he knows that everything needs to be washed before we use it. He’s funny like that anyway. Last Christmas when he wrote his wish list, at the top was SAFE. I immediately launched into worried maternal mode, concerned that he wanted to feel safe. Was he being bullied? Was he suffering insecurity because I had split from his father, or was he just trying to tell me that he needed me to hug him more? However, he’d calmly explained – in that way that eight-year-old boys can do when they think they’re talking to an irrational adult – that he actually wanted an electronic safe to keep his valuables in. So Santa brought him one. And now he locks everything in it. His money, his favourite toys – well, the ones that fit anyway. I have no idea what the combination is, so I told him to make sure that he remembers it, but he said that he will never forget as it’s linked to his favourite movies.

The conversation about keeping his money safe progressed to one about how important it was to wash his hands after he’d touched the money. Anabelle was present too and she chipped in, stating that it was especially important now since the outbreak of cola. If you didn’t wash your hands, she explained, it could kill you. I’d wondered why she’d turned her nose up at a glass of pop in a cafe a few days earlier, and suddenly it all became clear. She meant Ebola. Henry had finished the rather odd conversation with the comment that at least if his money was locked in the safe, then the Ebola couldn’t get us, so he’d lock all my money in there as well if I wanted him to. He was so determined in his desire to protect us that I gave him all the change out of my purse and now, whenever I need something from the corner shop, he offers to get me some money from The Bank of Henry.

I pour some batter into my large non-stick frying pan and drop blueberries into it. As the pancake slowly cooks through, I flip it to brown the other side. The blueberries pop in the heat and I inhale their sweet summery fragrance. Summer may be a while off, but at least we can eat as if it’s here.

When I’ve used up all the mixture, I put a few pancakes into the oven to keep warm for Janis, then take the rest over to the table. Just as I’m about to eat, the back door opens and Cassie waltzes in.

‘Good morning!’ She helps herself to a plate from the cupboard then takes a seat at the table. We mumble hello through mouthfuls of breakfast. ‘And how are we all today?’ Cassie asks, looking from Henry to Anabelle to me.

‘Good, thank you,’ Henry replies.

‘Henry left the lid off the crickets, Aunty Cassie, and they all escaped.’

I see Cassie start then she turns to me for an explanation.

‘Henry’s bearded dragon.’ I gesture at the hallway with my fork. ‘Up in his room.’

Cassie presses a hand over her chest, which is bursting out of a black vest top with a pretty sunflower print. She’s coupled it with black capri pants and yellow wedge heels. She looks gorgeous and I realise that I’m still in my pyjamas and that I must look a sight, as I haven’t even brushed my hair.

‘It eats live insects?’ she asks as she dabs at her pink lips with a tissue.

‘Yes, Aunty Cassie!’ Henry says, rolling his eyes. ‘It doesn’t like dead ones.’

‘Because dead bugs would be so much worse?’ Cassie grimaces and I suppress a smile, thinking about how she’d react if she went up to Henry’s room and saw the cricket corpses ground into the carpet. I’ll have to scrub that later and I shiver at the thought of the crushed little bodies embedded in the thick pile.

I clear the table and Henry and Anabelle hurry upstairs to wash their hands and check on the dragon. Henry hasn’t decided on a name yet, so I’ve told him to try to think of one. It should keep him busy for a while and I have a feeling that Cassie wants to speak to me.

‘Coffee?’ I offer as I fill the kettle.

‘Please, Annie, but use the good stuff won’t you?’

I fetch the packet from the fridge – luckily there’s still some in there, although I did find out that Henry used it to age his homework because he left a pencil in the packet – and fill the cafetiere. The ground coffee smells divine and I breathe deeply of its rich aroma. I’m more of a tea drinker, Earl Grey in particular, but I do enjoy coffee and this one that Cassie bought me from Harrods is certainly delicious.

I take two large mugs to the table, then the coffee pot and a plastic carton of semi-skimmed milk. When I sit down, I can see that Cassie is bursting with news.

‘So?’ I say as I pour the coffee.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ she asks, fluttering her fake eyelashes.

‘Something’s up and I know you want to tell me.’

‘I do.’ She takes a sip of coffee. ‘Mmmm. That’s so good.’

‘Oh come on, Cassie, out with it!’

‘Tonight… I have a date!’ She claps her hands.

‘That’s great news. Who’s the lucky guy?’

‘He’s a friend of Vlad.’ She stares at me waiting for my reaction.

‘Okay.’ I sip my coffee. I’m not sure where she’s going with this and to be honest, I’m surprised it isn’t Vlad himself. I mean, I saw how he was looking at her.

‘It’s a blind date.’

‘What? So you don’t even know what he looks like?’

She shakes her head.

‘Then how are you going on a date? Isn’t it a bit risky?’

‘Well, see, I was speaking to Vlad after our training session the other day and he said that he had this friend who is quite shy. He’s a bodybuilder apparently and he has his own gym.’

‘Doesn’t he get to meet many women at his gym then?’ I ask, images of tight bodied gym bunnies clad in colourful Lycra filling my head. I don’t know why but they always have eighties hairstyles. It’s as if my ideas about gyms always have to throw back to the days of my childhood when movies were filled with aerobics and backcombed perms. ‘You’d think that he’d have his pick of women.’

Cassie shakes her head. ‘I just told you. Vlad said he’s shy.’

‘Is he Russian too?’

‘No. He’s Irish.’

‘Irish?’

She nods.

‘A Russian and an Irishman…’

She holds up her hand. ‘Just don’t do that, Annie. This is serious.’

‘It is.’

‘I’m actually quite nervous.’

‘I would be too if I was going on a date with a mysterious Irish bodybuilder who I’d never even met or spoken to.’

‘The thing is…’ She toys with her bottom lip and I get a sinking feeling in my gut. ‘Vlad kind of wanted to know if you’d like to come too.’

‘Me? What… why… he does?’ I am suddenly conscious that I am pulling a face so I try to relax my mouth and cheeks, to bring my eyebrows down to their normal position. Why would that hunk of muscle want me to go out on a date?