19

After lunch, I found Sofi behind the shed, smoking a cigarette.

She stubbed it out into the vegetable patch and said she was keeping an eye on the meat.

‘Fark? It’s fuck. Ff – uh – cuh. Fuck. It shouldn’t rhyme with Sark.’

‘He’s just one of those men, Sof. You should have come and had wine, it was nice in the sun.’

She said she didn’t know ‘those’ men. I said she did. Friends’ dads; rich, bit pervy, harmless really.

‘The dads I know aren’t like that.’ She lit another cigarette.

‘Oh come on. Men are men. You know men. You smile, they like it. It’s just men, Sofi. If anyone knows men, it’s you.’ I said ‘men’ many times.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘That you’re so … easy…’

‘Fucking hell.’

‘Not like that. You know what I mean. Easy, meaning – relaxed. Meaning, not like me.’

‘You seemed OK in there, just then.’

I took the cigarette out of her hand, had a drag, then felt like I’d stood up too fast.

She said she needed to get out of the house. ‘Can we go? Bring Pip. Tell Eddy you’re going to teach him about the sea, whatever, I just need to go.’

When I got back to the gazebo, the men were opening their third bottle and talking about Caleb’s third wife.

‘Sorry to bother you, gents,’ I said, shifting my top slightly, smiling, ‘but Eddy, shall I take Pip to the study now, or…?’ And I left the ‘or’ high in the air, for him to take it.

‘Inside?’ Caleb barked. ‘Sunny day! Young boys shouldn’t be inside on a sunny day!’ He stretched out his arms, leaning back in his chair.

Eddy looked at all the cousins, the middle two chiselling a ball at each other, the oldest giving the youngest nuggies. Eddy told me to run along. ‘No school today,’ he said, ‘the boys’ll play rugby.’ Caleb yawned, ‘Good man,’ and curled his big arms back in, bottle in hand.

I told them to enjoy their wine and the sun and their sons, and walked away. I’d almost got back to Sofi when Pip came out from inside, hair slicked back with water.

‘I was looking for you,’ he said. ‘The kitchen’s not safe. Can we go to the study? Those boys … where do they come from?’

I said Warwickshire, but I knew that wasn’t what he meant. Then I said no to the study.

‘Sorry. It’s just that dads want sons to play rugby.’

‘But I don’t play rugby. I’ve never played rugby.’

‘They’re your cousins.’

‘I hardly know them at all.’

‘I’m sure they’ll play nicely,’ I said. I couldn’t look him in the eye when I said that.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Nowhere. We’re just going to cycle for a bit. Give you family time.’

‘You and Sofi?’

I nodded.

‘Can’t I come with you?’ (I looked away. Sofi would be waiting. I hoped she’d waited.) ‘Please?’

Maybe he could have, if we’d asked. He probably could have. But I said no, and never told Sofi he wanted to come too, and we left, and left him behind again.