pointed reference to Ruby’s single status. Sometimes Ronnie would catch herself doing it and apologize. When she didn’t, Ruby simply took a deep, calming breath and let the comments go.
R ONNIE SWITCHED OFF the bright studio light and the two women headed toward the stairs.
“So, come on, Mum,” Ruby said. “What’s going on? What’s the big secret? Dad’s refusing to say anything and I’m dying to know.”
Just then the doorbell rang. Ronnie’s eyebrows knitted. “Who can that be?” she said as they listened to Phil opening the front door. Ronnie leaned over the banister to see. “It’s your Aunty Sylvia,” she said to Ruby. “I wasn’t expecting her. This is going to make things a bit awkward. Your dad and I really wanted you to ourselves tonight.”
When they got downstairs, Aunty Sylvia was handing her coat to Phil.
“Thought I’d just pop in and say a quick arrivederci before you went off to Rome.” She kissed Ronnie and then stood wiping the lipstick smudge off her sister’s cheek.
She turned to Ruby. “And how’s my favorite niece?” she said with a gentle pinch of Ruby’s cheek. “Still working with our dear cousin. Of course you know what’s wrong with Stella, don’t you? Heart problem. She doesn’t have one.”
Ruby laughed and said she didn’t hear from her much since she’d moved to New York.
Aunty Sylvia turned to Ronnie. “You know, when I got here I had to drive round for ten minutes looking for somewhere to park.”
“Oh, I usually chant for a space,” Ronnie said. “Always works.”
“Really? Maybe I should start chanting for a husband.”
Sylvia Lieberman—she had kept her ex-husband’s surname—was Ronnie’s older sister by four years. She was PA to a West End theatrical agent and looking for love. For the last decade—ever since her divorce—it had evaded her, so she comfort-ate instead. The upshot was that she weighed 200 pounds. Even though she was heavy, she shared Ronnie’s artistic flair and was by no means without style. Her hair—cut every five weeks by Roscoe, he of Roscoe and Belle—was dyed an even more vibrant red than Ronnie’s. Everybody agreed it was the perfect accessory to her loud, ballsy personality.
She wore expensive, well-cut loose layers, which showed off her hourglass shape but didn’t cling in the wrong places. Tonight she looked particularly elegant in an olive-green wrap-over A-line dress and matching pointy suede boots.
E VERYBODY TROOPED INTO the living room. Ronnie took one sofa, Ruby and Aunty Sylvia claimed the other. Phil didn’t sit down. Instead he took the twenty questions ball out of his pocket.
“It crashed just as you went upstairs,” he said to Ruby. “Seems to be working again now…So, these capybaras—are they meat eaters?”
“No. They’re vegetarian. If my memory serves me correctly they live on grasses, melons and squashes.”
“OK. And are they nocturnal?”
“Don’t think so.”
Aunty Sylvia turned to Ronnie. “A capy who?” she whispered. “What’s going on?”
Ronnie rolled her eyes and explained about the computerized ball that could play twenty questions. “I have no idea what this animal is they’re talking about…. Phil, please. Can’t you leave it alone for just a minute and come and sit down?”
“Hey, Phil,” Sylvia said, laughing, “see if it can get Elvis, or better still, a lox bagel…or…or a thong.”
Phil raised a hand in front of him as if to say “hang on.” A couple of seconds passed before he spoke. “This is amazing! I don’t believe it. Look. It got it. Capy-blinkin’-bara. It worked it out.” He passed the ball to Ruby and pointed to the display.
“See if it can get chiropractor,” Aunty Sylvia said. “I’ve just found a new one. He’s brilliant. In fact he’s so good the last time I saw him he practically offered me a cigarette afterward.” She winked at Ronnie before adding, “You should try him.”
By now Ruby was
R ONNIE SWITCHED OFF the bright studio light and the two women headed toward the stairs.
“So, come on, Mum,” Ruby said. “What’s going on? What’s the big secret? Dad’s refusing to say anything and I’m dying to know.”
Just then the doorbell rang. Ronnie’s eyebrows knitted. “Who can that be?” she said as they listened to Phil opening the front door. Ronnie leaned over the banister to see. “It’s your Aunty Sylvia,” she said to Ruby. “I wasn’t expecting her. This is going to make things a bit awkward. Your dad and I really wanted you to ourselves tonight.”
When they got downstairs, Aunty Sylvia was handing her coat to Phil.
“Thought I’d just pop in and say a quick arrivederci before you went off to Rome.” She kissed Ronnie and then stood wiping the lipstick smudge off her sister’s cheek.
She turned to Ruby. “And how’s my favorite niece?” she said with a gentle pinch of Ruby’s cheek. “Still working with our dear cousin. Of course you know what’s wrong with Stella, don’t you? Heart problem. She doesn’t have one.”
Ruby laughed and said she didn’t hear from her much since she’d moved to New York.
Aunty Sylvia turned to Ronnie. “You know, when I got here I had to drive round for ten minutes looking for somewhere to park.”
“Oh, I usually chant for a space,” Ronnie said. “Always works.”
“Really? Maybe I should start chanting for a husband.”
Sylvia Lieberman—she had kept her ex-husband’s surname—was Ronnie’s older sister by four years. She was PA to a West End theatrical agent and looking for love. For the last decade—ever since her divorce—it had evaded her, so she comfort-ate instead. The upshot was that she weighed 200 pounds. Even though she was heavy, she shared Ronnie’s artistic flair and was by no means without style. Her hair—cut every five weeks by Roscoe, he of Roscoe and Belle—was dyed an even more vibrant red than Ronnie’s. Everybody agreed it was the perfect accessory to her loud, ballsy personality.
She wore expensive, well-cut loose layers, which showed off her hourglass shape but didn’t cling in the wrong places. Tonight she looked particularly elegant in an olive-green wrap-over A-line dress and matching pointy suede boots.
E VERYBODY TROOPED INTO the living room. Ronnie took one sofa, Ruby and Aunty Sylvia claimed the other. Phil didn’t sit down. Instead he took the twenty questions ball out of his pocket.
“It crashed just as you went upstairs,” he said to Ruby. “Seems to be working again now…So, these capybaras—are they meat eaters?”
“No. They’re vegetarian. If my memory serves me correctly they live on grasses, melons and squashes.”
“OK. And are they nocturnal?”
“Don’t think so.”
Aunty Sylvia turned to Ronnie. “A capy who?” she whispered. “What’s going on?”
Ronnie rolled her eyes and explained about the computerized ball that could play twenty questions. “I have no idea what this animal is they’re talking about…. Phil, please. Can’t you leave it alone for just a minute and come and sit down?”
“Hey, Phil,” Sylvia said, laughing, “see if it can get Elvis, or better still, a lox bagel…or…or a thong.”
Phil raised a hand in front of him as if to say “hang on.” A couple of seconds passed before he spoke. “This is amazing! I don’t believe it. Look. It got it. Capy-blinkin’-bara. It worked it out.” He passed the ball to Ruby and pointed to the display.
“See if it can get chiropractor,” Aunty Sylvia said. “I’ve just found a new one. He’s brilliant. In fact he’s so good the last time I saw him he practically offered me a cigarette afterward.” She winked at Ronnie before adding, “You should try him.”
By now Ruby was
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