‘Great!’ Kyla exposes her buck teeth in a wide smile. ‘And does she eat everything? Vegetables? Peas, carrots, broccoli? Eloise used to love to help me make risotto with vegetables from the garden.’
Of course she did. I expect she’s got a bloody Michelin star, too.
‘Absolutely,’ I reply without a flicker. ‘Minnie adores vegetables. Don’t you, darling?’
Minnie has never eaten a carrot in her life. When I once tried to hide them in a shepherd’s pie, she sucked off all the shepherd’s pie and spat the carrots one by one across the room.
But I’m not admitting that to Miss Perfect Pants. If she’s such a hotshot nanny then she’ll be able to make Minnie eat carrots, won’t she?
‘So maybe you’d like to pop out for a while, while Minnie and I get to know each other!’ Kyla addresses Minnie brightly. ‘Want to show me your Play-Doh, Minnie?’
‘OK!’ I say. ‘See you later.’
I back out of the kitchen with my cup of coffee, almost straight into Mum, who’s skulking in the hall.
‘Mum!’ I exclaim. ‘Were you spying on us?’
‘Does she know “Edelweiss” yet?’ she says with a sniff. ‘Or are we still on “Doe, a Deer”?’
Poor old Mum. I really should try to cheer her up.
‘Look, why don’t we go out shopping or something?’ I suggest on impulse. ‘Kyla wants to get to know Minnie, and Dad’ll be here in the house in case she has any problems …’
‘I can’t go shopping!’ retorts Mum touchily. ‘We’re impoverished, remember? I’ve already had to cancel all our Ocado orders, you know. Your father was adamant. No more luxury quiches, no more smoked salmon … We’re on strict rations.’ Mum’s voice trembles slightly. ‘If I go anywhere, it’ll have to be the pound shop!’
I feel a sudden pang of sympathy for her. I’m not surprised Mum’s so miserable these days.
‘Well then, let’s go to the pound shop!’ I try to jolly her along. ‘Come on, it’ll be fun!’
By the time I’ve put my coat on, Mum has phoned Janice and she’s decided to come along to the pound shop too. And when we get outside, I find Jess waiting with her, dressed in an ancient ski jacket and jeans.
‘Hi, Jess!’ I exclaim as we start walking along. ‘How are you?’
I haven’t seen Jess for ages. She and Tom went to spend some time in Cumbria last week, and I didn’t even know she was back.
‘I’m going nuts,’ she says in a savage undertone. ‘I can’t stand it. Have you ever tried living with Janice and Martin?’
‘Er … no.’ I can’t imagine Janice and Jess would get on too well. ‘What’s up?’
‘First she wouldn’t stop trying to make us have another wedding. Now she’s given up on that, she wants us to have a baby.’
‘Already?’ I want to giggle. ‘But you’ve only been married five minutes!’
‘Exactly! But Janice won’t stop dropping hints. She sits there every evening, knitting something yellow and fluffy, but she won’t say what it is.’ Jess lowers her voice darkly. ‘It’s a baby blanket, I know it is.’
‘Well. Here we are.’ Mum breaks into our conversation as we arrive at the corner of the high street.
There’s a pound shop to our right and a 99p shop opposite. For a moment we survey both in doubtful silence.
‘Which one shall we go to?’ ventures Janice at last. ‘The 99p shop is slightly cheaper, obviously …’ She peters out.
Mum’s eyes keep being dawn across the road to Emma Jane Gifts, this gorgeous boutique full of cashmere knitwear and hand-made ceramics, which we both love pottering around. I can even see a couple of Mum’s friends from bridge in there, giving us little waves. But then Mum pulls herself up firmly as though going into battle, and swivels towards the pound shop.
‘I have certain standards, Janice,’ she says with quiet dignity, like a general saying he’ll dress for dinner even though bombs are dropping all around him. ‘I don’t think we need to sink to the 99p shop quite yet.’
‘OK,’ whispers Janice nervously.
‘I’m not ashamed to be seen here,’ adds Mum. ‘Why should I be ashamed? This is our new way of life, and we’re all just going to have to get used to it. If your father says we have to exist on turnip jam, then so be it.’
‘Mum, he didn’t say we had to have turnip jam—’ I begin, but Mum is already sweeping in, her head proudly high. I exchange glances with Jess and follow.
Wow. This place is bigger than I thought. And there’s such a lot of stuff! Mum has already taken a basket and is putting tins of some dodgy-looking meat into it with jerky, resentful little movements.
‘Your father will just have to adjust his taste buds to suit his wallet!’ she says, clattering another one in. ‘Maybe nutrition is something we can’t afford any more! Maybe vitamins are only for the super-rich!’
‘Ooh, chocolate bourbons!’ I say, spotting some. ‘Get some of those, Mum. And Toblerones!’
Hey. There’s a rack of cotton-wool balls over there. It would be crazy not to stock up on them. I mean, it wouldn’t make economic sense. And there are make-up applicators and even eyelash curlers! For a pound! I grab a basket and start filling it.
‘Jane!’ A breathless voice greets us and I see Janice, clutching a load of packets labelled ‘solar garden lights’. ‘Have you seen these? They can’t cost a pound, surely.’