‘Did he get very cross with you?’ Margot asked, remembering how cross Will had got with her in the early days of their co-pawrenting.
Sage grinned. ‘Mostly not cross, even when I freaked out on Apex Corner roundabout and did seven complete loops. He was white knuckling the dashboard, but he didn’t even raise his voice, just kept telling me to get in the far-side lane and remember to use the indicator.’
Margot felt she had been a little uncharitable. ‘He was quite patient with Blossom, especially when we had to sit in the park in close proximity to the squirrels so she could build up her tolerance.’ She shook her head as she remembered the futile exercise Jim had insisted they do. ‘I was ready to throw in the towel after ten minutes, but Will insisted we could do the full hour.’
‘Yeah, he’s good at all that Jedi mind-shit,’ Sage said. ‘He’s even persuaded Mum to start walking Blossom. Normally the only walking she does is around the big Tesco. It’s amazing that her leg muscles haven’t atrophied.’
‘Not all of us like to exercise,’ Margot murmured. ‘Especially if there might be sweat involved.’
‘I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea about us when you came round for Christmas,’ Sage continued regardless. ‘All families are weird. Sometimes, I think mine are weirder than most, then I go round to a friend’s house and I’m like, no, you’re all totally weird too.’
‘It wasn’t weird on Christmas Day,’ Margot insisted, though it had been weird and uncomfortable and she’d sat at that kitchen table embarrassed to be there and embarrassed on behalf of the Blooms who couldn’t have wanted her to be there either.
‘It was so weird.’ Sage glanced across to meet Margot’s eyes and for one moment, she wasn’t a teenage girl who went out without a proper coat on, but wise beyond her years. ‘I love my mum. She’s been through some stuff, some really serious shit, long before I arrived, which has left its mark on her. Like, she wants everything to be perfect and when it’s not, she freaks out for a bit. But it is always for a bit then she’s fine. Like, she’s funny and I love hanging out with her and nobody can be perfect all the time. I bet you’re not.’
‘Oh God, I’m never perfect,’ Margot exclaimed. ‘I’ve given up even trying.’ She reached out to brush Sage’s arm with her hand. ‘You and your mum are lucky to have each other. All of you are lucky to have each other.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Sage said, hissing as a taxi pulled out in front of her with no warning. Then she smiled slyly. ‘Mum thinks you are perfect, by the way.’
Margot found that hard to believe. They’d WhatsApped a storm, but she’d only met Mary once and the other woman had spent most of that time fretting about dinner. ‘She does?’
‘She’s constantly worrying that we’re not looking after Blossom as well as you do. Then there was the whole speech about how it couldn’t be good for Blossom to be shuttled back and forth and that it would be wonderful if you and Will got together. For Blossom’s sake.’
Margot didn’t know Sage well enough to tell if she was winding her up. What she did know though, was that whatever her reaction was, it would be reported back to the assorted Blooms at great length and in great detail. As it was, she was in agony to know what Will had thought about this declaration. Also what he’d said about it and how he’d looked while he was saying it.
Margot attempted a carefree chuckle. ‘Blossom is very happy to be shuttled back and forth between the two of us. She gets double the love.’
‘Yeah, but . . .’
‘I wouldn’t go via Kentish Town if I were you,’ Margot said in her most officious voice. ‘Take the left fork towards Parliament Hill and then we can scoot down Highgate West Hill. All right?’
‘You’re the boss,’ Sage said lightly, then she was silent.
Margot stared fixedly out of the window, but she could tell that Sage kept looking over at her and grinning.
30
Will
January became February became March. The bleached white winter skies became blue once more and the stark branches of the trees were budded with leaf shoots.
It was still muddy underfoot, but there was the promise of spring. Of no longer needing to have Blossom’s onesies (she had six at the last count – three for Will, three for Margot, or as Mary said ‘one on, one off and one in the wash’) drying on radiators.
Sage was full of the joys of spring when she came barrelling into the shop one Saturday morning in late March. As usual, she was five minutes late and, as usual, she sent the front door crashing back on its hinges.
‘If that door breaks, it’s coming out of your wages,’ Ian said, as he always did. He was perched behind the till, on his first mug of tea, slightly sweaty because he’d already cycled to Regent’s Park to do laps with his bike club, the Muswell Hill MAMILs.
‘You should be happy that I’m so enthusiastic about coming into work,’ Sage said, disappearing into the back room to hang up her coat.
‘She is enthusiastic,’ Ian remarked. He adjusted his glasses, which were slipping down his nose. ‘Not that enthusiastic about going to university though. Still, it’s her life, she has to make her own decisions, right?’
Will looked around to make sure that no one was listening. ‘She’s nineteen. She goes out without a coat even when it’s snowing and she’s incapable of entering or leaving a room without damaging the door. I would say that maybe she needs some gentle guidance when it comes to huge life-altering decisions.’
‘If Sage needs some advice, she knows where I am,’ was Ian’s inevitable reply. Sometimes Will thought that his stepfather’s parenting skills bordered on benign neglect, but if that were the case then Sage was thriving. And benign neglect was preferable to how Will and Rowan had been raised.
‘But don’t you think Sage would make a good barrister?’ Will persisted. ‘She’s so argumentative and determined to have the last word. She’d be sure to have all the capital’s criminals banged to rights.’
‘With no hope of parole,’ Ian added, then pretended to be studying the order book with great attention as Mary appeared in her new navy fleece and her special Skechers walking shoes.
For the last few alternate Saturday mornings, Mary took Blossom out for a brief walk to Alexandra Park around a grassy area known as the Grove, mostly to hang out with her dog-owning friends and gossip. Now she spent several minutes checking that she had dog treats, poo bags, coin purse and phone in her new cross-body bag, then left with a cheery wave and a, ‘If I’m not back in half an hour then me and the girls are having a coffee.’
Ninety minutes later and Mary and Blossom still weren’t back. Long enough for even Ian to wonder what was keeping her and for Sage to start catastrophising. ‘What if she’s been run over at the top of Dukes Avenue? They should have a zebra crossing there! Or what if Blossom has seen a squirrel and pulled Mum over and she’s lying in a ditch somewhere? And what if . . .’
They were saved from anymore ‘what if’s by Will’s phone chiming.
With the girls in the Grove café. Penny ran off and I had to stay there to update everyone. Blossom hasn’t had much of a walk, can you come and get her?