‘You’re doing a wonderful job. They know they’re loved and that’s the most important thing. I learned that lesson too late. I think I could have done more to let Farquhar know that when he was a child and now it’s far too late. My son has got his own life and I don’t blame him. I wasn’t around that much. It’s karma.’
‘I don’t think it’s ever too late. He clearly remembers your Victoria sponge.’
‘He does?’
I nodded. ‘And he worries about you.’
‘Well he needn’t,’ said Hilda, although her sharp words were softened by her wry smile. ‘He always did prefer Victoria sponge to any other cake, funny boy. Even on his birthday, he wanted a plain sponge. No frills, no fuss. That’s my boy.’
‘Wonder where he gets that from? The two of you are quite similar.’
Hilda drew herself up with horrified indignation. ‘I don’t think so. He’s like his father.’ Then she smiled and with a shake of her head, added, ‘Not a spontaneous bone in his body. But, like his father, he’s also determined, loyal and, I will say this for him, the boy does have bags of integrity. He’ll always do the right thing. Where’s Ash this afternoon?’
‘He had things to do but he’s coming over later to pick up Bill.’
‘I don’t know why you don’t just leave Bill here. Poppy’s so attached to him and now that Ash is at work it would be fairer on the dog.’
‘Don’t put ideas into Poppy’s head, for goodness’ sake.’ I checked anxiously that she was still outside. Sure enough, she and Bill were still entwined.
‘Why not? It would make sense.’
‘Because…’ I pinched my lips together and studied the sunshine dancing on Ava’s unruly curls as she chattered away to herself and Poppy’s absorption in her book as one hand absently stroked Bill’s head. I couldn’t imagine life without the girls. Lovely as he was, Bill would make a poor consolation prize. ‘Because, what happens when Alice comes back? If she baulks at the responsibility of her own daughters, she’s hardly going to want to add a dog into the equation.’
‘You could keep him.’
‘I think Ash is quite fond of him now.’
‘Perhaps you could all share him.’ She ignored my comment.
‘Isn’t that what we’re doing at the moment?’
‘Mmm,’ she said absently, suddenly very busy cracking eggs into a bowl. ‘Can you grease the sandwich tins for me?’
By the time Farquhar arrived, the kitchen was spotless and the table was laid with the Victoria sponge on a cake stand (which I seemed to have acquired) in the centre, along with some rocky-road brownies that Ava was eying hungrily, as usual, and some homemade lavender and vanilla star-shaped biscuits (again, I seemed to have acquired new biscuit cutters). Ash had rolled in five minutes before, his hair still damp from the shower and smelling of expensive, subtle aftershave which left my stomach curling with frustrated longing.
Farquhar clutched a bottle of Veuve Cliquot and a dozen yellow roses and faltered on the doorstep like a schoolboy caught out. With his hurried glance from me to Hilda, I realised that he wasn’t quite sure who should be the recipient of his bounty and which of us was his hostess. Poor man appeared positively torn. I took pity on him and with a discreet tilt of my head indicated Hilda.
‘Mother,’ he said as he handed them over.
She beamed with pleasure. ‘My favourites. Come in.’
Behind her back as she led the way, nursing her bouquet like an actress on opening night, he mouthed, ‘Thank you.’
‘Well hello! Who’s this handsome chap?’ Farquhar made a beeline for Bill, which immediately put him in Poppy’s good graces and broke the ice as she explained how he’d been found.
‘We had a couple of lurchers, don’t you remember, Mother?’ he said as he crouched at Bill’s side, giving the dog a good rub. ‘At the estate. Gertie and Bertie.’
‘Oh gosh, yes, and do you remember when one of the little blighters finished off the roast beef when we’d retired into the drawing room? What a handful they were, but so adorable. So inquisitive. Into everything they were. But lovely calm creatures. That’s why I chose Bill; I knew he would be perfect for you all.’ She encompassed Ash, the girls, and me in her bland smile as she surveyed us.
I pressed my lips together hard and did my best not to catch Ash’s eye, trying not to snort at this blatant but typically Hilda-esque high-handedness.
‘I wanted to call him Hairy Carpet Dog,’ explained Poppy earnestly.
Farquhar let out a proper upper-class guffaw. ‘Priceless, sweetheart. That’s an excellent name.’
‘But they wouldn’t let me,’ said Poppy with a mournful twist to her mouth.
‘That was a bit mean but Bill’s a good solid name. I mean, imagine shouting Hairy Carpet Dog across the field when you want him to come back. It might have embarrassed the poor chap.’
‘I never thought of that.’ Poppy, somewhat mollified, smiled at him. He’d definitely won her approval. ‘Would you like some tea?’
‘Yes. Because we weren’t allowed to have any cake until you came so that it’s still nice. So can you have some Victoria sponge, please, because then I can have some and I haven’t had anything to eat for hours,’ complained Ava. ‘And I’m starving.’
‘Good gracious.’ Farquhar clasped his hands. ‘That won’t do. I’m very sorry. I think we’d better have some cake straight away then.’ He raised mischievous, laughing blue eyes my way, echoing the expression I’d seen so often in his mother’s eyes. ‘My mother does make the best Victoria sponge.’
‘What? Ever ever?’ asked Ava, intrigued by this.
‘Well, I think so.’ Farquhar gave her a very solemn nod. ‘But perhaps you’d better try some and let me know what you think.’
Ava bounded to her feet and darted to the table, pulling out a chair for herself. She needed no second invitation.
Hilda gave an approving nod towards her son, who was gallantly helping Poppy to her feet. Ash was still frowning at him as if trying to puzzle him out. Once Farquhar had escorted Poppy to her chair, he pulled one out for his mother, who, with a regal incline of her head, sat down.
‘The Veuve is chilled if anyone would like a glass,’ said Farquhar.
‘That would be delightful. The flutes are in the cupboard there.’
My eyes widened. I didn’t even know I had any flutes. When I opened the infrequently used cupboard, I found six of Hilda’s Baccarat crystal champagne flutes.
‘Who knew?’ I muttered to myself, removing each one with great care.
The tea party went off far better than I could have ever imagined and at one point, Farquhar even volunteered to come along to the parkrun one Saturday.
‘You could come to the cinema with us on Friday, if you like,’ said Poppy suddenly. ‘Ash is taking us to see Swallows and Amazons at the Regal. He thinks we’ll like it.’
I hid a smirk. Ash had volunteered a couple of weekends ago to take the girls to the recently restored Art Deco independent cinema for the teatime matinee because he really wanted to see it again.