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Authors: Fiona Neill
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like a drag queen. Her lips pinched together tightly, creating tiny ragged islands of cracked lipstick.
“You have no self-control, Dad,” Bryony quickly chipped in, then looked as though she immediately regretted saying it.
“Just as well you don’t take after me, then,” said Foy. It was a rebuke. Ali soon learned that Foy claimed responsibility for the positive traits in his children and grandchildren. Any bad characteristics were blamed on Tita’s side of the family (“stubborn, overcautious and overbearing”) or Nick’s (“intolerant, anal and passive-aggressive”), even though he had met Nick’s parents only once, at his daughter’s wedding more than two decades earlier.
“In answer to your question, I was parking the car,” Tita explained as she finally stepped into the kitchen and took a drink from the tray that Malea was holding.
“Thank you, Malea,” she said, without looking down at the tiny housekeeper.
“Granny, I can’t believe that you get in the car to drive four hundred meters down the road,” commented Jake. “What about your carbon footprint?”
“What about yours?” countered Foy. “When I was your age I hadn’t even been to the continent. You fly abroad at least once every holiday.”
“What’s the continent?” asked Alfie, putting down his boat on the kitchen floor.
“It’s when you pee in your pants,” Izzy responded. “Like Hector.”
Hector surged toward Izzy, throwing himself with all his strength at her thighs in an effort to topple her. He failed and instead battered her legs with angry fists until she pleaded for mercy.
“That’s incontinent,” pointed out Jake over the noise.
“That’s where I’m heading,” said Foy, but no one was listening. Everyone shouted at Hector to stop. Instead he continued to hurl himself at Izzy like a battering ram. Izzy was sturdy and gave no ground, which further infuriated Hector.
Ali stood back, taking stock, unsure whether to intervene. On the one hand, she was farthest away from the fracas, sitting on the edge of the sofa, beside the enormous sliding doors into the garden. On the other, Bryony had asked her to join them for lunch to keep an eye on the twins. Bryony had emphasized the need to keep them reasonably quiet at the other end of the table and the importance of making sure they didn’t use their fingers to eat. She hadn’t mentioned anything about mediating fights.
Nor was Ali sure what to do as Hector grabbed at Izzy’s long, dark hair and Izzy responded by kicking him in the calf with a heavy-looking leather ankle boot. None of the child-care books that she found carefully piled on the desk in her bedroom at the top of Holland Park Crescent when she moved in the previous Saturday addressed the issue of children physically fighting with one another. She could vaguely remember squalling with her sister, but she couldn’t recall how her parents responded. And surely if Nick and Bryony were in the room, then she shouldn’t undermine their authority by getting directly involved.
“Stop that, you two,” bellowed Foy, who was closest, but they took no notice of their grandfather.
Alfie headed purposefully toward Hector, carrying his brother’s ship, apparently unperturbed by the noise and managing to avoid the flailing limbs. At least Ali assumed it was Alfie, because in less than a week he had already proven himself to be less volatile than Hector. Hector hurled himself at life, while Alfie was more reticent. Their temperament was their only distinguishing feature, although some days Ali suspected they pretended to be each other.
Alfie said something unintelligible to everyone but his twin brother. “Tigil mo yan, Hector.”
Their identical blue eyes met, and Hector let Izzy’s hair gently slide through his fingers. Just as suddenly as it had started, the argument fizzled out. Hector took the ship that his brother was proffering him, and they headed off to play together. Bryony shot a look at
“You have no self-control, Dad,” Bryony quickly chipped in, then looked as though she immediately regretted saying it.
“Just as well you don’t take after me, then,” said Foy. It was a rebuke. Ali soon learned that Foy claimed responsibility for the positive traits in his children and grandchildren. Any bad characteristics were blamed on Tita’s side of the family (“stubborn, overcautious and overbearing”) or Nick’s (“intolerant, anal and passive-aggressive”), even though he had met Nick’s parents only once, at his daughter’s wedding more than two decades earlier.
“In answer to your question, I was parking the car,” Tita explained as she finally stepped into the kitchen and took a drink from the tray that Malea was holding.
“Thank you, Malea,” she said, without looking down at the tiny housekeeper.
“Granny, I can’t believe that you get in the car to drive four hundred meters down the road,” commented Jake. “What about your carbon footprint?”
“What about yours?” countered Foy. “When I was your age I hadn’t even been to the continent. You fly abroad at least once every holiday.”
“What’s the continent?” asked Alfie, putting down his boat on the kitchen floor.
“It’s when you pee in your pants,” Izzy responded. “Like Hector.”
Hector surged toward Izzy, throwing himself with all his strength at her thighs in an effort to topple her. He failed and instead battered her legs with angry fists until she pleaded for mercy.
“That’s incontinent,” pointed out Jake over the noise.
“That’s where I’m heading,” said Foy, but no one was listening. Everyone shouted at Hector to stop. Instead he continued to hurl himself at Izzy like a battering ram. Izzy was sturdy and gave no ground, which further infuriated Hector.
Ali stood back, taking stock, unsure whether to intervene. On the one hand, she was farthest away from the fracas, sitting on the edge of the sofa, beside the enormous sliding doors into the garden. On the other, Bryony had asked her to join them for lunch to keep an eye on the twins. Bryony had emphasized the need to keep them reasonably quiet at the other end of the table and the importance of making sure they didn’t use their fingers to eat. She hadn’t mentioned anything about mediating fights.
Nor was Ali sure what to do as Hector grabbed at Izzy’s long, dark hair and Izzy responded by kicking him in the calf with a heavy-looking leather ankle boot. None of the child-care books that she found carefully piled on the desk in her bedroom at the top of Holland Park Crescent when she moved in the previous Saturday addressed the issue of children physically fighting with one another. She could vaguely remember squalling with her sister, but she couldn’t recall how her parents responded. And surely if Nick and Bryony were in the room, then she shouldn’t undermine their authority by getting directly involved.
“Stop that, you two,” bellowed Foy, who was closest, but they took no notice of their grandfather.
Alfie headed purposefully toward Hector, carrying his brother’s ship, apparently unperturbed by the noise and managing to avoid the flailing limbs. At least Ali assumed it was Alfie, because in less than a week he had already proven himself to be less volatile than Hector. Hector hurled himself at life, while Alfie was more reticent. Their temperament was their only distinguishing feature, although some days Ali suspected they pretended to be each other.
Alfie said something unintelligible to everyone but his twin brother. “Tigil mo yan, Hector.”
Their identical blue eyes met, and Hector let Izzy’s hair gently slide through his fingers. Just as suddenly as it had started, the argument fizzled out. Hector took the ship that his brother was proffering him, and they headed off to play together. Bryony shot a look at
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