Sugar and Snails

We ate in the dining room. The arrangement wasn’t as formal as the last time I’d sat there, and I was too buoyed up with football acrobatics to fret about unbalancing the sexes. We clustered around one end, Paul serving at the head, and Ellie cosying up next to me. The little girl called across the table to her mother: “Mummy, where is it we’re going on holidays?”

“Minorca,” said Venus. “And don’t ask me how many sleeps, Munchkin. It’s too many for me to count already!”

Ellie put her hand to her mouth, shielding her lips, if not her voice, from me. “Mummy, can Di come with us to Minorca?”

“Why don’t you ask her, Munchkin? I’d love her to join us.”

I spiked a carrot with my fork. Beside me, Ellie did likewise. “Di, Di, will you come to Minorca on holidays with us?”

My face wasn’t up to smiling at Ellie while glowering at her mother. “That’s very kind, Ellie, but I don’t tend to go abroad.”

“Is Minorca abroad?”

“Of course it is, Dimwit,” said Josh. “Why do you think they talk in Spanish?”

“Oh yes,” said Ellie. “You have to say bwonnas notches and silver plate.”

“Silver plate’s French, Numbskull,” said Josh.

I speared a sprout, unusually grateful for the squabbling.

Ellie speared one of hers. She caught me watching and smiled, proud, as if the celebrity had acknowledged the convener of her fan club. “Di, why don’t you go abroad? Is it cause you don’t like talking in French and Spanish?”

I laughed. “Maybe.”

“In fact,” said Venus, “Di’s scared of flying.”

Ellie looked set to tender her resignation from my fan club. “Scared of flying! Why?”

Paul shook his head. “Stop pestering the poor woman!”

Ellie dropped her knife to place her hot hand on mine. “I’d look after you, Di, if you came with us. I’d sit next to you and hold your hand.”

“Thanks, Ellie, that’s really sweet of you, but not this year.”

Ellie smiled. She had a double gap between her front teeth now. “Next year? When I’m eight?”