Seven Days of Us(84)

“Caspar?” said Olivia.

“Mmm-hmm,” said Phoebe, not looking at all like a girl who’d just been chucked. Emma was rather amazed that she seemed to be moving on so quickly. It was a good sign, of course, but she couldn’t help feeling deflated. She knew Andrew wanted supper to be a special family meal, to mark everything that had happened in quarantine. Olivia kept her eyes trained on the TV.

“Well, do let Daddy know,” said Emma weakly. “I’m sure he’d like to open some bubbles before you leave.” Andrew could probably persuade Phoebe to stay for supper, she thought. Besides, she ought to line her stomach.

“OK. But it’ll have to be soon,” said Phoebe, turning to leave.

“All right, lamb,” said Emma, trying not to sound disappointed.





Jesse


THE KITCHEN, 34 GLOUCESTER TERRACE, CAMDEN, 4:10 P.M.

? ? ?

Andrew was already in the kitchen when Jesse came in with the groceries. He marked a page in a yellowing paperback and smiled. Lately, just since yesterday, Jesse had come to see his own face more in Andrew’s. Emma had said the same.

“D’you know Claudia Roden?” said Andrew, holding up the book.

“Is she, like, a British chef?”

“British Egyptian. She really brought Middle Eastern food here, in the eighties. There’s a wonderful chicken recipe in this book that Emma and I used to do. And here’s the pilaf I thought we might have with it,” he said, showing Jesse a page headed: Saffron Rice with Raisins and Almonds. “That falls within your remit, doesn’t it?”

“Sure,” said Jesse, scanning the recipe. He had gotten used to the way Andrew talked now. He made a mental note to tell Dana that he actually spoke a lot like he wrote, that the prose wasn’t fake, though he was less catty in person. More real, once you knew him.

“Excellent. I thought we should do something from that part of the world, for your final evening,” said Andrew. It was the third time he’d said so since breakfast. Tonight must be a big deal for him.

Jesse made a start on his contribution, sweet potato brownies, while Andrew chopped herbs and weighed out spices, putting everything in tiny bowls as if they were on a cookery show. He was whistling “Driving Home for Christmas,” with nerves or contentment, or both, Jesse couldn’t be sure.

“I read your article about your mom,” said Jesse, between pulses of the Magimix. “She sounds awesome.”

“Did you? She was, she was. In the true sense of the word,” said Andrew. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet her. She was very fond of Olivia and Phoebe. Olivia, in particular. They were rather alike, in fact. Fiercely self-reliant.”

“Right. That figures.”

“She had to be both parents, to me, in a sense. I never really knew my father,” said Andrew. “But I knew of him. I imagine being adopted, that must be—ah—complicated in a different way. Just, not to know.”

“I guess. My parents—my adoptive parents—were always very open, but there was literally nothing they could tell me about you. Until I looked up your name you were just, like, a void.”

Andrew’s mouth twitched as if he was about to say something quippy, but then didn’t.

“I was planning to make a film about it,” Jesse continued. “I was hoping to shoot some more at Weyfield. But I kind of got sidetracked.”

“Events intruded, rather, last week.”

“For sure!”

“Well, if you do make it, I hope you’ll consider a cameo from Camden. Over Skype or something. We’re very glad you came,” he said, looking intently at the digital scales.

Jesse took this as his chance.

“So what was she like, Leila? My birth mom?”

Andrew’s neck reddened as he looked up, and for a moment Jesse wondered if he’d crossed a boundary. But his face relaxed as he said: “Well. Terrific-looking, I recall. Good move on your part, taking after her. And bright, going places. But I can’t tell you a great deal beyond that, I’m afraid,” he said, looking sheepish. “We didn’t, um, talk an awful lot.”

Jesse laughed. “I get it. Where did you meet, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My hotel bar. Sounds dreadful, put like that. But a war zone, human crisis, it heightens everything. Makes one behave out of character. Take risks, I suppose. Look at Olivia and Sean.”

“Right. ‘Carpe diem.’”

“Quite. I didn’t make a habit of, er, picking up women in bars, by the way,” he said, looking uncharacteristically earnest. Jesse guessed this was his way of saying he’d been faithful to Emma throughout their marriage.

“But look what it brought us!” said Andrew, reverting to his usual wry tone and holding up his mug to Jesse.

“Hey, you were a young guy.” It was funny how he felt like he could talk to Andrew as another adult, but Andrew clearly couldn’t quite do the same. Jesse knew he would never see him as his father, the way he saw his dad, Mitch, but that was OK. Healthier, probably.

“She was a news anchor, right?” said Jesse.

“Yes, at the time. She became quite a senior producer at Al Jazeera, I believe. But you probably know more than me. You googled her, I imagine?”