Daniel dropped Cherry’s hand as he went to take the tray from his mother. It gave her an irrational sense of being abandoned and the nerves swiftly kicked in again.
Dinner was served in the dining hall. Cherry was opposite Howard, Daniel his mother. Everything shone with purpose: the cutlery, the glasses, even the dinnerware, a white set with watercolour flowers painted round the edge. A large modern oil hung from the wall, nearly the entire length of the room, a statement that was as confidently expensive as the rest of the house.
‘Ta-da!’ said Daniel as he placed the tray of soufflés on the table.
Cherry immediately got a whiff of an unmistakeable gamey, fishy scent. Crab. She baulked. She’d had a bad experience with one of her mum’s discounted purchases that was at the end of its sell-by and had spent most of the night throwing up in the bathroom. Now, the smell was making her feel nauseous, but she resolved to get through it. A dish was placed in front of her, a fluffy pillow of soufflé just waiting for her to break its peaked surface. She waited as long as she could, until everyone had been served and had taken their first bite. Then she picked up the small fork, thinking it might load less on it than the spoon and tentatively tried it. It was all she could do not to gag. Cherry wondered miserably how she was going to get through the course without being sick or offending her hostess. She stopped for a sip of wine, then slowly forked up another mouthful, but Laura noticed she was struggling.
‘Is everything OK?’
Cherry considered bluffing but caved in. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t like crab.’
‘Oh my goodness, don’t eat it.’
‘Sorry . . .’ repeated Cherry, embarrassed. ‘It makes me feel . . . unwell.’
Daniel clapped his hand on his head. ‘It’s my fault. Sorry, Cherry, Mum asked me to check. I completely forgot.’ He looked contrite. ‘I thought it would be OK.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Laura, standing and taking away the ramekin.
‘Poor you,’ said Howard.
Laura went to take the dish into the kitchen. ‘Moses can have it.’
‘The cat,’ explained Daniel.
‘Well, I thought it was delicious,’ said Howard, scraping the last from his dish as Laura reappeared.
‘Very nice, Mum,’ said Daniel.
‘Glad you liked it.’ She ate her own portion and looked regretful. ‘Sorry, Cherry.’
She was being kind, but Cherry was mortified. She heard her stomach rumble and pulled the muscles in quickly so it wouldn’t be noticed.
‘And you’re hungry!’ said Howard. ‘Can we get her anything else?’
‘I’m fine, honestly.’
‘Are you sure?’ continued Laura. ‘I feel like I just tried to poison you or something! Some melon? Or I think we’ve got a bit of paté in the fridge.’
‘I was ill on mussels once,’ said Howard. ‘Never been able to face them since.’
Cherry wished they’d all shut up about it. Daniel put a comforting hand on her leg under the table.
‘Thanks, Dad. Don’t think we need any reminders of that one.’
A mewing sound came from the kitchen. Laura stood. ‘Moses,’ she called, ‘are you still hungry?’
‘Always have a pet,’ said Howard. ‘Green dustbins. Although I am more of a dog man myself.’
‘Why didn’t we get one of them?’ asked Daniel.
‘Your mother wouldn’t have it. Reminded her of the cocker spaniel she had as a child.’
‘He was run over,’ said Laura. ‘It devastated me. I had nightmares for weeks.’
‘Shame,’ said Daniel. ‘I like dogs.’
The cat mewed loudly and came prancing in, then rubbed himself against Laura’s legs. ‘Don’t listen to him!’ she said. ‘You’re our favourite.’
Cherry looked at him with immense dislike. It was irrational, she knew, but even the cat was conspiring against her to like the soufflé. Everyone but her liked the bloody soufflé. Why couldn’t she be a soufflé-loving person like these people?
‘Fillet steak and sautéed potatoes for main?’ said Laura tentatively to Cherry. ‘Is that OK?’
Cherry gave an overcompensatory smile. ‘Sounds great.’
‘What’s for dessert, Mum?’ asked Daniel.
‘I wondered when you’d get to that,’ smiled Laura. ‘Presumably you know all about Daniel’s addiction to chocolate, Cherry?’
Cherry smiled again, a big beam to match the conversation. She didn’t.
‘I have to hide it when he’s home,’ said Laura.
Oh, do you? Ha, ha, ha, thought Cherry.
‘You’ll be pleased to know it’s . . . chocolate and pistachio marquise.’
Daniel threw his arm around his mum. ‘You star!’
Cherry didn’t know what a ‘marquise’ was.
‘Is that OK?’ Laura asked her.
‘Yes, lovely,’ said Cherry.
‘I must be crazy to move out,’ said Daniel, and Cherry got a little flutter of anxiety. She looked up and with relief saw he was joking. It was obvious they got on well, though, he and Laura. Extremely well. It was an alien concept to her, being close to your mother, and their easy banter wrong-footed her. She imagined having that level of closeness with her own mum and instantly cringed with revulsion. It hadn’t always been like that. They’d been close when she was young. As a child, she’d adored Wendy, in fact, but then as she’d got older, she’d become embarrassed by her, this mother who worked in a supermarket and whose world was so small. It was made worse by Wendy being so nice; she was like a puppy, always running around after her, wanting to be part of her life. It made Cherry guilty and she sometimes thought that if Wendy would just slap her across the face and tell her how bad her behaviour was, it would make everything so much easier. Thoughts of Wendy put Cherry in an even darker mood. She tried to shrug them off, enjoy the steak and what turned out to be a posh chocolate mousse.
‘So when do I get my den back?’ asked Howard, topping up everyone’s wine.
Daniel laughed. ‘Yesterday,’ he explained, ‘Dad came down to use the pool. There was plenty of room for both of us,’ he said to his father.
‘Your stroke is all over the place. More water out of that pool than in.’
‘You just didn’t want to get shown up.’
‘I’ve been perfectly used to you not being here. Cherry, it’s a shame you couldn’t keep him entertained last night as well.’
‘Cherry had other plans,’ said Daniel.
‘Yes,’ said Cherry.
They all looked at her. She’d said very little during dinner, too nervous, too self-conscious to really contribute, and it felt odd to be the centre of attention. She hadn’t intended the one-word answer to sound so mysterious, but now, she suddenly realized, it actually worked out quite well.
‘Anything nice?’ asked Laura.
She made herself look embarrassed to have to be saying it, as if she didn’t want to make a big deal. ‘It was my birthday. I spent the evening with my mother.’
Daniel sat back in his chair in surprise. ‘You never told me!’ He took her face in both his hands and kissed her. ‘Happy birthday!’
She smiled modestly. ‘Thank you.’