Jason had hated that – it meant he couldn’t say that Ricky was just a moron with a guitar. Morons with guitars did not get invited to the prestigious Swiss think tank where world leaders gathered every year.
And he particularly hated it when Callie was mentioned in these articles, as she sometimes was because of the song ‘Calliope’, which had been the breakout song for Ricky’s band – the song that had transformed them from a small band into a band who could fill Madison Square Gardens.
But Ricky had been long gone from her life when she met Jason and back then, it had thrilled Jason to be going out with the famous rock star’s ex-girlfriend.
Callie picked up the paper and put it in the recycling.
The past needed to stay in the past. Except, it kept pinging into her consciousness. Her party was very soon.
She tried not to think about it because of the people who wouldn’t be there: her mother, her brother, her aunt and uncle-in-law. All her relatives, the people that Jason had basically banished from her life ten years before.
Fiftieth birthdays were a time for family, but if she got in touch with her mother now it would look like she was only doing it for appearances’ sake.
How did you come back from that sort of family row? You couldn’t – that was the answer. Instead, you had to be passionately grateful for all you had.
Sam
Posy shoved a multicoloured fluffy dog at her Uncle Ted and said, ‘This puppy has a broken tummy. Fix him.’
‘Yes, oh Empress Posy,’ said Ted, as Posy poked the stuffed puppy in a way that would guarantee a broken tummy or, at least, severe gastric discomfort. ‘Exactly what sort of puppy is this?’
‘A zebra shetta puppy,’ Posy said. ‘You’re silly not to know.’
‘Yup, silly me.’
Sitting in an armchair, watching, Sam thought happily of how Sunday dinner at Joanne’s was always fun. Fun because Joanne’s three little girls were a delight.
They adored Ted and pulled him down onto the ground so they could get him to be the vet for a line-up of teddies who would all have injuries.
‘He’s going to be a great dad,’ Joanne said as she somehow managed to shut the oven door with her bum while carrying the roast and shoving some children’s toys out of the way with her foot. Sam marvelled at her sister’s ability to multitask. Joanne could cook, mind kids, talk and not get the slightest bit fazed by any of this.
Sam was good at multitasking when she was at work, but at home, she liked a different, more laid-back sort of vibe. But this was motherhood, she knew: she had to watch and learn because that was very important.
‘What are we eating today?’ she said.
‘Roast lamb stuffed with rosemary and garlic,’ said Joanne, her voice slightly questioning. ‘Sound good?’
‘If she winces and asks for fish paste,’ said Ted, coming back in as he wrapped up another teddy, a bright pink one this time with the bandage made out of toilet roll, ‘say no. No matter how much she begs. Gives her heartburn.’
‘I have not had fish paste for ages, in my defence,’ said Sam.
The door banged and the sound of Patrick, Jo’s husband, ushering in Sam’s father could be heard.
‘Liam, how are you, and Jean – we weren’t expecting you to make it, but gosh, er, you look lovely.’ Patrick was using his most respectful voice.
Joanne and Sam exchanged a glance.
‘Mother,’ they mouthed at each other.
Jean swooped into the room. Her greying hair, cut short, was curled the way she did it with heated rollers, her limited make-up was perfect and she wore a silky cream knitted suit with a single loop of discreet beads round her neck.
Sam looked at her mother and wondered if she had ever seen her dressed down. Sam loved dressing down: taking off her work clothes when she used to work in the bank and slipping into comfortable stretchy leggings and fluffy socks with one of Ted’s sweatshirts on. Then, she’d curl up on the couch with the dogs, relax and watch delicious junk on the TV.
She had never seen her mother in such a state of undress – even her mother’s nightwear was a collection of quasi-Victorian nightgowns. No comfy pyjamas in that house.
Joanne recovered first. ‘Mother, delighted you could come. I thought you were busy.’
‘I’m never too busy to see you all,’ said their mother and, yet again, Sam and Joanne exchanged a glance.
Their mother had always been too busy to see them. Their father had raised them. But that ship had sailed a long time ago.
Sam managed a brittle smile and knelt with difficulty down on the floor, where her youngest niece was playing with trains.
There was something about her mother these days that was bothering her and she just couldn’t put her finger on what it was; just something there in the background that was niggling away.
‘It’s ridiculous,’ she had said to Ted a few weeks before, after her mother had sent her a terse email hoping she was feeling well with her pregnancy. ‘Whose mother emails about their pregnancy? That’s fine if you live in a different country or you’re on the space station, but if you live in the same country, not that many miles away, you’d phone, and then you’d come over, like a normal mother would.’
She was aware that her voice was rising with each breath.
‘Honey, don’t get your blood pressure up. It’s bad for the baby,’ Ted said.
Sam had groaned. ‘That’s the best excuse ever,’ she said. ‘You can stop me getting irritated with my mother by reminding me it’s bad for the baby.’
‘You haven’t got annoyed over your mother for years,’ he said, ‘so it’s a little weird, but hey, hormones! Just remember to take the annoyance down a notch or, I promise you, I will buy one of those little blood pressure machines.’
Sam hadn’t answered the email. If her mother wanted to behave like a robo-mum, she was not going to go along with it. Step away from the crazy!
Posy wanted all the toy train-track joined together. Ted and Sam had bought it for her when it was clear that Posy liked what were officially termed ‘boys’ games’. Joanne was entirely laid-back about it all: ‘If she wants to play with boys’ stuff, fine. Why are there girls’ toys and boys’ toys? Why not just toys? I was never into Barbie myself.’
‘No guns, though,’ Patrick said.
‘Definitely,’ agreed Joanne. ‘But a crossbow when she’s old enough, so she can be cool, like Katniss . . .? And I think karate or tae kwon do lessons when they’re older. Girls need to feel empowered.’