The Peacock Emporium(31)

“Where is it, Suze?” She could hear icy politeness in Ben’s voice.

“Just off Water Lane. Two down from the takeout.”

“Nice for you,” he said coolly.

“You’ll have to drop in some time,” she said, smiling gamely.

“We’re a bit busy at the moment.” He looked at his father. “Got some projects going on in the barns, haven’t we, Dad?”

“I’m sure we’ll all find time to pop in soon.” Her father’s tone was neutral.

Suzanna’s eyes filled inexplicably with tears.

Vivi had left the table to fulfill some unspecified task in the kitchen. They could hear her down the corridor, muttering something to the dog.

“Well, that was nice of you, Suze.” Lucy’s voice cut across the table.

“Lucy . . .” Her father’s voice held a warning.

“Well, how much would it have hurt her to invite Mum? Even if none of the rest of us came, she could have invited Mum. She was really proud, you know? She told everyone about your bloody shop.”

“Lucy.”

“You’ll have made her look a right idiot in front of her friends.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“No, you never do.”

“It wasn’t even a proper opening. I didn’t serve drinks or anything.”

“All the more reason why it wouldn’t have hurt to invite her. God, after all Mum and Dad have done for you—”

“Lucy—”

“Look, let’s not—” Neil interrupted, gesturing toward the doorway, from which Vivi was emerging again. “Not now . . .”

“I almost forgot to put the pudding on. Wasn’t that silly of me?” Vivi said, seating herself again, and looking around the table with the vaguely assessing eye of the practiced hostess. “Has everyone got everything? Is it all right?”

“Delicious,” said Neil. “You’ve excelled yourself, Vivi.”

“I haven’t got any mustard,” said Rosemary, accusingly.

“Yes, you have, Gran,” said Lucy. “It’s on the side of your plate.”

“What did you say?”

Ben leaned across the table, pointing with his knife. “There,” he said, revealing it to her. “Mustard.”

Vivi had been on the verge of crying—Suzanna could see the telltale reddening round her eyes. She glanced at Neil across the table and knew that he had seen it too. She found she had lost her appetite.

“We’ve got some news,” said Neil.

Vivi smiled at him. “Oh, yes?” she said. “What is it?”

“Suzanna’s decided to think of someone other than herself,” said Lucy. “That would be news.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Lucy.” Her father’s cutlery crashed down on the tabletop.

“We’re going to have a baby. Not yet,” Neil added hurriedly. “Next year. But we’ve decided it would be the right time.”

“Oh, darlings, that’s wonderful.” Vivi, face brightening, had leaped from her place at the table and reached round to hug Suzanna.

Suzanna, stiff as a board, sat staring at her husband in silent fury. He refused to meet her eyes.

“Oh, I’m so pleased for you. How lovely!”

Lucy and Ben exchanged glances.

“What’s going on? I wish you would all speak up.”

“Suzanna’s going to have a baby,” said Vivi loudly.

“Not yet.” Suzanna found her voice. “I’m not going to have one yet. Not till next year. In fact, it was meant to be a—a surprise.”

I’m going to kill you, Suzanna mouthed at Neil.

“Isn’t that wonderful, darling?” Vivi placed her hand on her husband’s arm.

“Not really, no,” he said.

The room fell silent—apart from at Rosemary’s end of the table, where some kind of internal gastric explosion had sent Ben and Lucy into barely stifled giggles.

Their father placed his knife and fork on his plate. “They’re still virtually bankrupt. They’re living in rented accommodation. Suzanna has just set up a business, even though she has absolutely no experience in running anything, let alone a household budget, successfully. I think the last thing they should be doing is bringing children into the equation.”

“Darling,” Vivi remonstrated.

“What? Can’t we tell the truth now? In case she decides to absent herself from the family again? I’m sorry, Neil. In other circumstances it would be wonderful news. But until Suzanna has grown up a bit and learned to accept her responsibilities I think it’s a bloody awful idea.”

Lucy had stopped giggling. She looked at Suzanna, and then at Neil, who had flushed a deep red. “That’s a bit harsh, Dad.”

“Just because something’s not easy to hear, Lucy, doesn’t mean it’s harsh.” Her father, having apparently exceeded his daily quota of spoken words, resumed eating.

Vivi reached for the Yorkshire puddings, her face taut with anxiety. “Let’s not talk about this today. It’s so seldom we have everyone together. Let’s just try to have a nice lunch, shall we?” She held aloft her glass. “Shall we make a toast to Lucy, perhaps? Twenty-eight. A wonderful age.”