Cat bemoaned. ‘By that I mean She's all settled and content with her grown-up role as a school-run stepmum.’
‘What's wrong with that?’ Ben asked. ‘And aren't you settled and content?’
‘Of course I am, you know I am,’ said Cat. ‘But Pip's the one who should be doing cartwheels down the hallway, who makes teaspoons disappear and then reappear from behind my ear. She didn't do one handstand against the wall this weekend.’
‘It was the weekend. She was off duty,’ Ben pointed out. ‘It's normal for people to not want to take their work home with them. Imagine if I came home with my stethoscope, or took the blood pressure of any visitors to our house.’
‘But we don't own a house,’ Cat mumbled, ‘just this horrid rented flat.’
‘Cat!’ Ben remonstrated. ‘We've been back in the UK two bloody minutes.’
Cat ignored him by changing the subject. ‘Fen is in the throes of this immense love affair with her baby and she can talk of nothing else.’
‘What's wrong with that?’ Ben asked. Cat shrugged.
She wasn't prepared to say out loud that though her niece was utterly adorable, she had found Fen uptight, boring even.
‘They're not who they were,’ Cat said. ‘Their identities have changed.’ She could hear the plaintive edge to her voice.
‘That's par for the course – growing up, growing old,’ Ben said, though he saw his wife flinch from his cheeriness. ‘Anyway, they probably find you different too. But That's no bad thing.’
‘I don't like this place,’ Cat said, irritated. ‘I don't like other people's furniture. I don't like stupid Clapham. I want to be in our own place, with our stuff. Perhaps we should have rented unfurnished. Perhaps we should have stayed in the US. It's all going to take ages.’
Ben looked at her, suddenly serious. ‘Nothing's going to happen overnight,’ he said. ‘it'll take a while to attain Pip's peace of mind and Fen's healthy baby. Nine months at the very least.’
Cat thought for a moment. Perhaps that was it – perhaps she didn't resent her sisters their changes, perhaps she aspired to what they had. Or there again maybe it was just jet lag.
‘I'll tell you what was peculiar,’ she said. ‘Fen talked about how being a mother had made her really think about our own mother. It had me thinking too.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘But say. Just say.’ She looked imploringly at Ben, as if he might know what without her having to just say.
‘Just say what?’ he asked.
Cat paused. ‘Just say It's hereditary?’ ‘But you just said that Fen is a caring mother to the point of being obsessed,’ Ben said carefully.
Cat glanced at him shyly. She shook her head. ‘I don't mean Fen. Say it runs in the family. Say I'll be a crap mother? Maybe I should concentrate on my career for the time being.’
Ben thought for a moment, scratched his neck. ‘Actually, genetics rarely play a part in such extreme behaviour,’ he said. ‘For all you know, your mother sucks in her bottom lip – like you do – and That's the only family trait you've inherited from her. Think of Fen – mother superior, however much she might irritate you. Think of Pip – her maternalconnection with Tom is great and there's no blood there. You McCabe girls are all destined to be extraordinary mothers – by virtue of the fact that your own set such a poor example.’
He watched Cat start to thaw. He ruffled her hair and she ruffled his. Then they put their foreheads together for a moment.
‘Being a mother is a state of mind, a condition of the heart, as much as it is biological,’ Ben said. ‘Christ, look at Django – He's the best mother you girls could have wished for. Stop worrying, Cat. You'll be a star.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Cat asked, a little bashful but privately delighted.
‘I do,’ said Ben, ‘but we have to get you pregnant first.’
Cat propped her head, chin in her hand, and looked over to Ben. ‘It's what I love about
‘What's wrong with that?’ Ben asked. ‘And aren't you settled and content?’
‘Of course I am, you know I am,’ said Cat. ‘But Pip's the one who should be doing cartwheels down the hallway, who makes teaspoons disappear and then reappear from behind my ear. She didn't do one handstand against the wall this weekend.’
‘It was the weekend. She was off duty,’ Ben pointed out. ‘It's normal for people to not want to take their work home with them. Imagine if I came home with my stethoscope, or took the blood pressure of any visitors to our house.’
‘But we don't own a house,’ Cat mumbled, ‘just this horrid rented flat.’
‘Cat!’ Ben remonstrated. ‘We've been back in the UK two bloody minutes.’
Cat ignored him by changing the subject. ‘Fen is in the throes of this immense love affair with her baby and she can talk of nothing else.’
‘What's wrong with that?’ Ben asked. Cat shrugged.
She wasn't prepared to say out loud that though her niece was utterly adorable, she had found Fen uptight, boring even.
‘They're not who they were,’ Cat said. ‘Their identities have changed.’ She could hear the plaintive edge to her voice.
‘That's par for the course – growing up, growing old,’ Ben said, though he saw his wife flinch from his cheeriness. ‘Anyway, they probably find you different too. But That's no bad thing.’
‘I don't like this place,’ Cat said, irritated. ‘I don't like other people's furniture. I don't like stupid Clapham. I want to be in our own place, with our stuff. Perhaps we should have rented unfurnished. Perhaps we should have stayed in the US. It's all going to take ages.’
Ben looked at her, suddenly serious. ‘Nothing's going to happen overnight,’ he said. ‘it'll take a while to attain Pip's peace of mind and Fen's healthy baby. Nine months at the very least.’
Cat thought for a moment. Perhaps that was it – perhaps she didn't resent her sisters their changes, perhaps she aspired to what they had. Or there again maybe it was just jet lag.
‘I'll tell you what was peculiar,’ she said. ‘Fen talked about how being a mother had made her really think about our own mother. It had me thinking too.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘But say. Just say.’ She looked imploringly at Ben, as if he might know what without her having to just say.
‘Just say what?’ he asked.
Cat paused. ‘Just say It's hereditary?’ ‘But you just said that Fen is a caring mother to the point of being obsessed,’ Ben said carefully.
Cat glanced at him shyly. She shook her head. ‘I don't mean Fen. Say it runs in the family. Say I'll be a crap mother? Maybe I should concentrate on my career for the time being.’
Ben thought for a moment, scratched his neck. ‘Actually, genetics rarely play a part in such extreme behaviour,’ he said. ‘For all you know, your mother sucks in her bottom lip – like you do – and That's the only family trait you've inherited from her. Think of Fen – mother superior, however much she might irritate you. Think of Pip – her maternalconnection with Tom is great and there's no blood there. You McCabe girls are all destined to be extraordinary mothers – by virtue of the fact that your own set such a poor example.’
He watched Cat start to thaw. He ruffled her hair and she ruffled his. Then they put their foreheads together for a moment.
‘Being a mother is a state of mind, a condition of the heart, as much as it is biological,’ Ben said. ‘Christ, look at Django – He's the best mother you girls could have wished for. Stop worrying, Cat. You'll be a star.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Cat asked, a little bashful but privately delighted.
‘I do,’ said Ben, ‘but we have to get you pregnant first.’
Cat propped her head, chin in her hand, and looked over to Ben. ‘It's what I love about
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