Surprise Me(44)

‘The “Vegetable Creator”?’ echoes Dan. ‘Are you telling me it creates vegetables?’

‘We all get so tired of vegetables,’ Mummy ploughs on, ignoring Dan. ‘But imagine a whole new way to present them! Imagine fifty-two different chopping templates, all in one handy machine, plus an extra twelve novelty templates in our Seasonal Package, free if you order today!’ Her voice is rising with each word. ‘The Vegetable Creator is fun, healthy, and so easy to use. Anna, Tessa, do you want to try?’

‘Yes!’ yells Tessa, predictably. ‘Me!’

‘Me!’ wails Anna. ‘Me!’

Mummy sets the gadget up on the counter, grabs a carrot and feeds it through an aperture. We all watch speechlessly as it turns into tiny teddy-bear shapes.

‘Teddies!’ the girls gasp. ‘Teddy carrots!’

Typical. I might have known she’d get the girls onside. But I’m going to be firm.

‘I think we’ve got too many gadgets already,’ I say sorrowfully. ‘It does look good, though.’

‘A study has shown that owning a Vegetable Creator leads to thirty per cent more vegetable consumption in children,’ says Mummy brightly.

Rubbish! What ‘study’? I’m not going to challenge her, though, or she’ll start quoting some stream of made-up figures from the Vegetable Creator Real Proper Lab with Real Scientists.

‘Quite a lot of waste,’ I observe. ‘Look at all those bits of carrots left over.’

‘Put them in soup,’ Mummy retorts like a shot. ‘So nutritious. Shall we try making cucumber stars, girls?’

I’m not buying it. I know I’m her only customer, but I’m still not buying it. Resolutely I turn away and search for a change of subject.

‘So, what else is up with you, Mummy?’ I say. I head across to her little pinboard and survey the notices and tickets pinned there. ‘Oh, a Zumba class. That looks fun.’

‘All the unused pieces collect in this handy receptacle …’ Mummy is still doggedly continuing with her pitch.

‘Oh, Through the High Maze,’ I exclaim, seeing a hardback book on the counter. ‘We did that at my book group. What did you think? A bit hard-going, I thought.’

Truth be told, I actually only read about half of Through the High Maze, even though it’s one of those books that everyone has read and is going to be a movie, apparently. It’s by this woman called Joss Burton who overcame her eating disorder to set up a perfume company called Maze (that’s the play on words). She’s stunning, with cropped dark hair and a trademark white streak. And her perfumes are really good, especially the Amber and Rose. Now she hosts events where she tells business people how to succeed, and I suppose it is quite inspirational – but there’s only so much inspiration you can take, I find.

Whenever I read about these super-inspiring people, I start off all admiring and end up thinking: Oh God, why haven’t I trekked across the desert or overcome crippling childhood poverty? I’m totally crap.

Mummy hasn’t responded to my gambit – but on the plus side, she’s paused in her chat about the chopper, so I quickly carry on the conversation.

‘You’re going to the theatre!’ I exclaim, seeing tickets pinned up. ‘Dealer’s Choice. That’s the one about gambling, isn’t it? Are you going with Lorna? You could get a meal deal beforehand.’

There’s still complete silence from Mummy, which surprises me – and as I look round I blink in shock. What did I say? What’s up? Her hands have frozen still and there’s an odd expression on her face, as though her smile has been petrified in acid. As I watch, she glances at the window and starts blinking, very fast.

Oh shit. Obviously I’ve strayed on to another ‘wrong’ topic. But what, exactly? The theatre? Dealer’s Choice? Surely not. I glance at Dan for help, and to my astonishment, he seems frozen, too. His jaw has tensed and his eyes are alert. He glances at Mummy. Then at me.

What? What’s this all about? Did I miss the memo?

‘Anyway!’ says Mummy, and I can tell she’s pulling herself together with an almighty effort. ‘Enough of this. You must all be hungry. I’ll just tidy up a little …’

She starts sweeping things off the counter with an indiscriminate air: the Vegetable Creator, a load of Tupperware which was out (no doubt to store her vegetable creations) and the copy of Through the High Maze. She dumps them all in her tiny utility room, then returns, her face even more pink than before.

‘Buck’s Fizz?’ she says, almost shrilly. ‘Dan, you’d like a Buck’s Fizz, I’m sure. Shall we go through to the drawing room?’

I’m baffled. Isn’t she even going to try to sell me the chopper thing? She seems to have been utterly derailed, and I can’t work out why.

I follow her through to the drawing room, where champagne and orange juice in ice buckets are waiting on the walnut Art Deco cocktail cabinet. (Daddy was very big on cocktails. When he had his sixtieth birthday party, almost everyone who came bought him a cocktail shaker as a present. It was quite funny.)

Dan opens the champagne and Mummy makes the Buck’s Fizz and the girls rush over to the big dolls’ house by the window. It’s all just like normal – except it isn’t. Something weird happened just now.