Alice Adams - Invincible Summer

Eva’s expression grew steely. She was long-accustomed to variations on this speech from supposedly well-meaning acquaintances but it was particularly galling coming from Lydia, who was apparently labouring under the misapprehension that her family was straight out of a Boden catalogue and blissfully unaware that in actual fact Eva couldn’t think of a single better advertisement for the judicious use of contraception.

Was she merely being insensitive, or was this an act of passive-aggression intended to underline what Lydia saw as her superior status as wife and mother? Either way, it was just as infuriating as all the other times she’d had to tolerate speculation on when her body clock would kick in. It was surprisingly difficult to deflect the pitying assumption that she was putting a brave face on not having a man to do it with rather than the true reason, which was that she had absolutely no aspirations to join the ranks of breeders stacked into Giraffe on a Saturday. Any idiot could pop out a sprog, while she had a career that most people could only dream of. Plus, it wasn’t as though she was sufficiently optimistic about the future of the world to want a stake in it. Having a baby would be like going long human race futures in a position that you had to constantly monitor and could never hedge or close out. That wasn’t a trade she’d want on her book.

‘I expect your friends changed their minds when they saw your two,’ said Eva sarcastically, and then immediately felt mean-spirited when Lydia looked up from trying to prevent Josh hurling the salt cellar onto the floor and beamed at her.

‘Eva, what a lovely thing to say. Gorgeous, aren’t they? Hard work, obviously, but worth every minute. Don’t you worry, your turn will come.’

At that moment Benedict came back to the table and Eva wasted no time in thrusting the yelling baby into his arms.

‘Ew, Will ponks a bit, Lydia. Do you mind doing the honours? Give me and Eva a few minutes to catch up?’

‘I suppose so. What about you, Josh? Might as well do them both I suppose, while we’re somewhere with proper changing facilities.’

Benedict sat down and looked at Eva across the newly silent table. ‘Sorry about this,’ he said. ‘I know it’s not what you bargained for but Lydia really wanted to join us. She hasn’t seen you in ages, and we’re staying with my parents so I think she fancied getting out of the house. My mother’s driving her a bit mad with her parenting advice. Which mostly amounts to “why on earth don’t you get a nanny?”’

‘That’s okay, it’s nice to meet the new baby,’ muttered Eva, sounding as insincere as she felt. ‘He looks like you,’ she added automatically, having grown accustomed to what was expected of her in these situations.

Benedict’s tired face brightened. ‘Do you think so?’

Eva grinned. ‘Well, if you’re going to force me to be honest, mostly he looks like Jabba the Hutt. Have you considered a paternity test?’ For a split second she worried that she’d overstepped the mark, but Benedict didn’t miss a beat.

‘We’re booked onto Jerry Springer next week. You can catch us on the I Think My Wife was Impregnated by a Gargantuan Space Monster episode.’ He caught her eye and they both laughed, their old rapport returning at last.

‘Seriously, though, how’s it going with two of the little blighters?’ she asked. ‘Looks like a handful.’

‘Fine, mostly. I’m well aware that it looks like the seventh circle of hell from the outside but so much of it is wonderful. You can’t really explain the joys of parenting to non-parents, but they’re there and they more than make up for the copious excrement and deadly assaults with diggers. Lydia finds it a bit tough at times, what with living away from friends and family. And my having to work such long hours doesn’t help. But it’s just the early bit that’s hard, when you don’t get much sleep. It’ll get easier once Will’s a bit older.’

‘And have you glimpsed any wondrous particles lately?’ Eva asked.

‘No, we’re still a way off firing up the hadron collider. How about you? How’s being a Master of the Universe working out?’

‘Work’s going great. Done a few big trades this year, looking forward to a big bonus.’

‘Yes, I’ve been hearing about those City bonuses,’ chirped Lydia, arriving back at the table with the boys. ‘It’s a bit obscene, isn’t it, the way they pay millions to you lot just for shuffling money around when there are people starving in the world? Just don’t become one of those awful people who are obsessed with money and status, Eva, whatever you do. There’s more to life than making money.’

Eva couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She saw Benedict look from her to his wife and back again and open his mouth to say something placatory but she didn’t wait for him to speak. ‘Well, Lydia, some of us have to work for a living. And I work bloody hard for mine.’

It was Lydia’s turn to bridle. ‘Yes, well. Raising kids is hard work too. It doesn’t come with a big bonus, but then, not everything that counts can be counted. You know who said that? Albert Einstein.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Eva blurted out, more forcefully than she’d intended, causing several parents at the surrounding tables to glare at her. ‘Those of us who didn’t grow up with our own pet pony don’t have the luxury of swanning through life pretending that money doesn’t matter. It does bloody matter. It dictates where you live, what education you get, whether your cancer is diagnosed before it’s the size of a walrus and whether you get a thrombosis flying economy. Yes, there are things that money can’t buy, but I’d still rather cry about them in the back of a Mercedes than on a bicycle.’ Eva glanced at the mother still tutting at her from the next table and lowered her voice to a growl. ‘And by the way, if you understood anything about basic economics you’d know that my bonuses aren’t taking money out of other people’s pockets. A rising tide lifts all boats. I make money, and then I pay other people to clean my flat, and buy a new jacket that I wouldn’t otherwise have bought, and that creates jobs and puts money in the pockets of the people who clean flats and make jackets.’

In the time she’d been speaking, Lydia’s expression had progressed from shock to defensiveness to grim-faced rage. Had she gone too far? Benedict leant back from the table, perhaps bracing himself for Lydia’s response, but this time Josh beat her to it.

‘Forfucksake,’ he shouted joyfully, and hurled the salt cellar onto the floor where it shattered into tiny pieces.

*

‘So that went rather well, I thought,’ said Eva sheepishly as she said goodbye to Benedict in the street outside the restaurant after the most interminably long lunch of her life.

‘You think?’ he asked. ‘I mean, you only managed to mortally offend Lydia and teach Josh his first swear word, which, if I know my son at all, will be his absolute favourite word from here on in. If you really wanted to be sure I didn’t turn up for lunch with my family again you should have gone for the hat-trick and shown Will how to stick a fork in a plug socket.’ He grinned, but also glanced nervously over his shoulder to where Lydia was herding Josh out into the street to join them. ‘Are you walking back up to the station?’

‘No, I think I’m going to stay and do some shopping. Cheerio then!’ Before Lydia had a chance to reach them, Eva bustled off down the high street with a jaunty wave and darted round the next corner into an alleyway, where she remained gently and repeatedly banging her forehead against the side of a building for the several minutes it took for her to be certain the coast was clear.