frill around the hem and little black patent leather shoes, with her chestnut curls flying and most of her hairclips missing. In her hand was a large piece of paper, which she was waving madly.
‘Mummy! Mummy, look what I drawed!’
Louise crouched down. ‘Hello, sweetheart! What is it?’
Susan held up the paper for her mother to see. ‘It’s a horsie! There’s his legs and there’s his tail, and there’s his ears and…that other thing.’
‘His mane? Gosh, what an excellent picture! Did Grandma buy you some new crayons?’
‘Yes. I got red and green, and yellow, and…red. And…’ Susan trailed off, her finger in her mouth. ‘I forget the rest.’
‘Well, you must have got brown, because you’ve coloured the horsie in brown, haven’t you? And blue, because here’s the beach.’
‘No, it’s not the beach, it’s a lake!’ Susan pointed. ‘See? Here’s a birdie, cleaning his teeth in it.’
‘So he is!’
‘We had skibetti for lunch,’ Susan said, indicating a smear of orange down the front of her dress. ‘But I didn’t clean my teeth after.’
Louise stood up. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it, sweetheart. Twice a day is probably enough. Where’s Grandma?’
‘Inside. We done baking. She’s cleaning up.’
‘We did baking,’ Louise corrected. ‘What did you make?’
‘Come and have a look,’ Susan said, taking Louise’s hand. ‘We saved some for you and Daddy.’
Louise allowed her small daughter to lead her around to the rear of the house and up the back steps. Her mother’skitchen was cool and a little dim after the bright sunshine outside.
Marion Bourke was standing at the sink washing dishes. She wore slippers but was bare-legged, her varicose veins making fat purple worms over her ankles and pale calves.
‘Hello, love,’ she said. ‘Good day at work?’
‘Busy,’ Louise replied.
‘Cuppa?’
‘No, thanks, Mum, I need to get home and get tea on. How was madam today?’
Marion dried her hands on a tea-towel. ‘Madam was an absolute princess, as always. Helped me with the housework and then we went for a walk to the shops, didn’t we?’ Susan nodded energetically. ‘And after lunch we did some drawing and then a bit of baking.’ Marion nodded towards the kitchen table, where a small pile of greyish, rubbery-looking pikelets sat on a plate. Raising an amused eyebrow, she said, ‘They’ve been on the floor twice, but we got most of the fluff off.’
‘They’re for you and Daddy,’ Susan said proudly.
‘Yummy,’ Louise replied enthusiastically. ‘Shall we save them for supper tonight?’
Susan nodded, but she’d lost interest in the pikelets. Eccles, the Bourkes’ cat, had slunk into the kitchen and was weaving around the legs of the table, taking care to keep well out of Susan’s reach.
‘Can I pat him?’ she asked her grandmother.
‘If he’ll let you.’
Susan made a lunge for the cat, but he saw her coming and streaked for the back door, his claws scrabbling on the worn lino.
‘Eccles doesn’t like me,’ Susan declared sadly.
Marion said, ‘Yes, he does, sweetie. He’s just being a grumpy-bum today.’
In fact, Eccles was always a grumpy-bum around Susan, who adored him but, on the rare occasions she managed to pick him up, almost squeezed the life out of him in her enthusiasm.
‘Come on, missy,’ Louise urged gently. ‘We have to go home and cook Daddy’s tea, so say goodbye to Grandma, there’s a good girl.’
Marion bent down far enough for Susan to kiss her cheek.
‘Bye-bye, Gran,’ Susan said.
‘See you tomorrow, love. Don’t forget your pikelets!’
Louise asked, ‘Will about quarter to eight be all right? I need to get in early.’
‘Shall I feed you breakfast then, madam?’ Marion said to Susan. ‘Porridge and golden syrup?’
Susan clapped her hands and charged outside, yelling ‘Podge and syrup , podge and syrup! ’, and scaring the wits out of Eccles, who was hiding under the lemon
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