It was Gwen alone, and she had been crying.
“Where’ve you been? What’s wrong? What happened, Dolly?”
“Everything’s fucking stupid!”
“What’s stupid? Where’s Nathan?”
“Who cares? I literally hate him. I hate my life. Stop asking me questions.”
Julia waited while Gwen kicked off her sneakers on the doorstep, in the immediate path of anyone who might want to come in or out.
“You don’t have to stand there looking at me like there’s something wrong with me!” Even Gwen did not sound convinced by this complaint. She tried again. “There’s nothing wrong with me, I’m fine; stop looking at me like I’m a fucking invalid!”
“Enough, now. I won’t be spoken to like this. I don’t know what’s happened but you can’t just come in here and instantly take it out on me. Where’s Nathan? Why didn’t he come home with you?”
“Nothing’s happened,” Gwen whined, extending this last word over several seconds, and pitches. She was pulling her shoes back on.
“Where are you going?”
“It’s literally none of your business! I’m going around the corner to make a phone call with some privacy, okay?”
After the front door slammed, Julia paused. Then she threw it open and called after her daughter.
“Wha-at?”
“Bring back some ice cream, Dolly, something nice that you really fancy.”
Gwen grunted noncommittally, and then the gate swung shut behind her. Julia gave a small moan of anxiety. She should have spoken her conviction aloud in time to do something about it: it was a terrible idea for Nathan to come home for the summer.
? ? ?
IN THE KITCHEN, singing to Bon Jovi beneath a pair of Nathan’s green, padded headphones, James had missed the shouting. Nathan had requested a barbecue for his first night of freedom, and James was making barbecue sauce. Saskia had just arrived from Boston and was sequestered upstairs with her friend Rowan, who was spending the night.
“Why didn’t he come back with her?” he asked when Julia lifted an earphone to update him.
“I don’t know. I think they’ve had an argument; she’s in the most revolting mood. She’ll be back any minute.”
“God save us. Where’s that apricot jelly?”
“We can’t still have that, it was from Christmas.”
“This’ll blow your mind, I promise you. What did they fight about?”
Julia sank down into a chair. “I have no idea but she seems really rattled, and now she’s marched off again. I think she knows Saskia’s here with Rowan and probably wanted to phone Katy and compose herself a bit. It might have been quite uncomfortable being around all Nathan’s school friends, and I imagine she feels quite guilty and ambivalent about celebrating anything. She’s so tired. And the last day of her exams—that was not a good day.”
James had found the remains of the apricot jam, as well as another unopened jar Julia didn’t recognize that read FIGUE in elaborate curlicues, and he was dumping their contents into a stainless steel bowl along with the entire squeeze bottle of ketchup. “She’s wiped out, she needs time. We’ll just take it very easy for the summer,” he said, squirting, “and make sure you guys get lots of time alone together. Mom-and-daughter time.”
Julia rose and put her arms around him, peering around his shoulder into the contents of his bowl. “Thank you. That looks terrible,” she said, her chin moving against the solid curve of his bicep. He grinned. “It’s going to be awesome, just you wait. It’s Nathan’s all-time favorite. They’ve done it, you know. I’m so damn proud. They’ve been unbelievable little mensches for the last few weeks, both of them; it’s a huge night tonight. We got these kids through . . . through a war zone. Think what they’ve been contending with, both of them; it’s unimaginable. I really think she’ll turn a corner now, you’ll see. She’s not had any space. Do you think I should make guacamole? The avocados are like bullets, I’d have to try and microwave them or something. Gwen likes hot dogs, right? I got ballpark hot dogs and relish. Next time we go to Boston I have to take you to a ballgame, you’ll love it. Actually you’ll hate it but I’ll love it. You’ll love it when it’s over, maybe.” He ducked to kiss her behind her ear.
The day Nathan’s exam timetable had been published James had swapped his clinic in order to be free to prepare this banquet. Along with the frankfurters, barbecued chicken, and grilled peppers he had made some sort of Cuban-style sweet corn with feta and mayonnaise, and had come back from Queen’s Crescent with a watermelon the size of a small house pet. It felt far too soon to be celebrating anything but when consulted Gwen agreed it was still a good idea, and had even offered to bake Nathan an end-of-school cake—online she’d found a recipe for some elaborate confection that spilled out jelly beans. Gwen was surely the child more deserving of treats, but Julia had been happy, at least, that she was once again planning creative activities. In any case, given Gwen’s mood the cake now seemed rather unlikely. What little enthusiasm Julia had for the evening had evaporated. James had a great deal for which he ought to be grateful—his daughter was visiting from college, his son had finished senior school. She had a child enraged, beneath whose eyes bloomed mauve stains of exhaustion. It had only been, after all, a few weeks. Revelry was not her uppermost concern.
? ? ?
BY NINE P.M. Nathan still had not come home or called, and Julia persuaded James to eat. Gwen had taken herself to bed, the first time that Julia had seen her be openly rude to Saskia, who had tried and failed to convince her to have dinner with them. Gwen had responded with an unpleasant comment about James’s cooking, had clattered around preparing herself Marmite toast, leaving butter, loaf, Marmite jar, and a good many crumbs all over the counter, and had then clumped upstairs with her plate, looking thunderous.