Jane Green - Bookends

‘Were you calling me?’ Ingrid asks, which is quite an extraordinary question, given that Lucy has been shrieking her name for at least three minutes.

‘Ingrid. Yes. Look, would you mind keeping Max with you? Playing a game with him? Staying in the playroom? Something? Anything?’

Ingrid looks perplexed. ‘But I have just finished my nail polishing. I cannot play any games at the moment.’

Lucy stares, dumbstruck, at Ingrid’s feet. ‘Well, I’m not actually saying you have to play cops and robbers,’ she says finally, patience wearing thin, which is amazing, really, because Lucy has more patience than anyone I know. ‘What about a quiet game?’

Ingrid can see that she’s not going to win this one, so she shrugs and walks off down the corridor.

‘How do you put up with her?’ I whisper, when I’m sure the coast is clear.

‘Oh, she’s all right. Rather sweet, actually. She just seems to be obsessed with clothes and make-up. Maxy adores her, and that’s all I care about.’

‘So the fact that she doesn’t really like Max doesn’t bother you.’

‘She does like Max.’ Lucy grins. ‘She just has a funny way of showing it.’

‘And don’t you worry about having someone like that in the house?’

‘Worry? Why on earth would I worry?’

‘Well, how does Josh get on with her?’ Lucy looks at me, confused, and then starts to roar with laughter.

‘Oh, Cath. Darling, Cath. Now that is funny. Josh and Ingrid! Ingrid and Josh!’

‘So glad I’ve amused you,’ I say grumpily, wondering what the joke is.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy says finally, giving my hand a squeeze. ‘It’s just that it had never occurred to me. I didn’t know what you were talking about. As far as Josh is concerned, Ingrid’s a naïve young girl, far away from home, who’s doing a fairly good job of looking after Maxy.

‘And as for Ingrid, she probably thinks Josh is old enough to be her father. Oh dear, Cath. You have made me laugh. Anyway,’ she says, slipping her glasses on and sitting opposite me at the table, pulling a large notebook towards her. ‘I’ve been trying out recipes for weeks, so here’s the final list.’ She passes me a copy.

‘These sound amazing, Lucy.’

‘I’ve made each one personally, just to check, and I’ve done a bit of experimentation and come up with some new ones. I know the virtually fat-free, sugar-free, chocolate-chip banana muffins are probably desperately unhealthy, but they taste delicious and I’m sure they’ll be a winner.’ Lucy looks at me closely, then takes off her glasses again.

‘I thought you might give me a pre-session opinion. Well? Will you?’

‘You’ll finally allow me to have a taste?’ My eyes light up.

Lucy laughs and goes to the fridge. ‘Your mother must have adored you,’ she says. ‘Other than myself, I’ve never met anyone who loves their food as much as you do.’

‘I know,’ I say regretfully, mouth already full of delicious chocolate-chip banana muffin. ‘I just wish it wasn’t quite so obvious.’

‘What are you talking about?’

I start to laugh. ‘Having a face stuffed with chocolate muffin is not the time to start bemoaning a weight problem, is it.’

‘Weight problem?’ says Lucy, who’s no stick insect herself. ‘What weight problem? You’re a woman, Cath, and that’s what women are supposed to look like. You’re gorgeous and I don’t ever want to hear you say anything else. And anway, that muffin, remember, is virtually fat-free.’

Amid sounds of ecstasy I finish the muffin, only to see Lucy looking at me sadly.

‘Oh, Christ,’ I say. ‘What’s the matter? You look like you’re about to cry.’

Lucy shakes the expression off her face. ‘No, no. I was just thinking how wonderful it is that we’re finally fulfilling this dream, and the only thing that would make this complete would be if you found yourself a wonderful man. I just don’t understand why you haven’t got anyone. Josh doesn’t understand it either.’

‘I’m really not that interested,’ I say, slightly disturbed that she and Josh have spoken about this, although I’m not surprised. ‘I’m quite happy with you, Josh and Si.’

‘I know,’ she says with a smile. ‘That’s what worries me.’

Sundays have always been my take it easy day. The one day when I’ll allow myself a lie-in, scooping up the papers to take out to brunch with the rest of the gang.

But today Josh and Lucy are taking Max to friends in the country, and Si is all loved up with Will, so there won’t be a brunch. Instead, Si has decided that Will is definitely more than a fling, and that therefore it is time to seek my approval, so Si has decided he will bring Will over for tea.

I did say that tea might be better at his house, particularly given that Si’s flat is so much nicer than mine, but they are going antiquing – ‘revoltingly coupley’, said Si, with glee I might add – and Si has decided they will come over on their way home.

I do not understand how, in the space of two weeks, Si has found someone with whom he can go antiquing . Isn’t that the prerogative of long-term couples? Of people who are used to one another, who know all of one another’s foibles?

But perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised, because Si has always done this. He always decides, within minutes, that this time he has met the right one, and instantly attempts to create the intimacy, the level of comfort, that you don’t usually have for at least six months. And of course this always frightens them away. I hope this time it’s different. I hope that Will could turn out to be someone special, and I suspect that after this afternoon I’ll have a pretty clear idea of his intentions.

I clamber out of bed, pull on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a baggy sweater and trainers, and shake my hair out on the way to the bathroom to get washed.

I know what Si’s expecting. He’ll be expecting Mr Kipling’s finest, but today I’m going to surprise him. I plan to put on a proper English tea. Not quite scones and cream, but certainly cucumber sandwiches.

And, oddly enough, I’m in the mood for baking. Not that I actually know how to, but, in his quest to turn me into something vaguely resembling a female, Si has bought me a few cookery books over the years, and before I leave I pull out a few and look at the recipes.

Chocolate sponge. Not too difficult. I list the ingredients, shove the piece of paper in my pocket, and walk up to Waitrose.

‘Oh my God!’ Si’s mouth is hanging open with shock, as Will and I stand in the doorway, watching him with amusement.

‘Catherine Warner, I do not believe this.’ Si’s frozen by the coffee table, on which are piled plates of dainty cucumber sandwiches, a teapot that rarely sees the light of day, and delicate bone china cups and saucers.

Si sniffs. ‘Something smells good too. What have you made?’

‘Shit!’ I run back into the kitchen just in time to stop the chocolate sponge from burning. Si follows me in.

‘Well?’ he whispers. ‘What d’you think? Do you like him?’

‘Si!’ I start laughing. ‘Give me a chance. I’ve just said hello to him.’

‘But what does your gut tell you?’

‘That I’m hungry.’

‘Oh, come on. Seriously.’

‘Si, I honestly have no idea. I know you think I’m a witch, but my powers only start working after twenty minutes, okay? Ask me again in twenty minutes.’ Si makes a face at me before dashing back into the living room to look after Will.

I bring the cake in, to find Si sitting on the sofa next to Will, holding hands and looking like a match made in heaven. They do look good together – Will has floppy blond hair and classic good looks, but, and I would never say this to Si at this stage because I’m not even sure why I think this, but I’m not sure Will is someone I would trust.