Knit One Pearl One (19 page)

“Shall we do the cake now?”

“Yes, Con, that would be great.”

“He will love it, I think. It has the rabbit, in icing. Wait until you see.”

“Thank Mark again, will you? It’s such a shame he couldn’t get away.”

“Yes, but this evening we are closed, in the restaurant, so he will be fine. I want to talk to him about the room for the baby, but he doesn’t know yet. If he did, I think he would be going out.”

“I’ll help if you like. I’m quite good at wallpapering now after I did our hall. Well, if you don’t look too closely.”

I’m trying to wipe ice cream off Pearl’s face, ready for Reg to take the photos, when Gran dims the lights and Cinzia carries in the cake, with the eight candles. Archie’s thrilled, and sits looking very pleased as we sing “Happy Birthday” and he blows the candles out.

“I get the first bit, Mum, and then Jack, because he’s my brother.”

“Okay love.”

“And then Pearly, and then you.”

“Bless him; he says the nicest things sometimes, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, Gran.”

“And, Mum.”

“Yes Archie.”

“Only give Jason Lenning a small bit, because he shoved me right off that chair, and I was nearly winning. And can we take some home for my new rabbit?”

“I’m not sure rabbits like cake, love.”

“I bet he does. He’s going to be a magic rabbit, I’ve told you, Mum, and I bet they like cake.”

“I still think they prefer carrots, however magic they are.”

The magic show is a huge success, and despite his lack of a catchy stage name, Alan does us proud. Long silk scarves appear and disappear, and giant chocolate coins pop out from behind the birthday boy’s ear before the card tricks receive a rapturous reception. The indoor fireworks produce a thrilling series of bangs and showers of colored sparks, and the special powder in the fire makes such a huge bang that Archie jumps about three foot off the floor, as does Elsie. She’s been hovering with a damp flannel in case anyone with sticky fingers touched any of the stock, but even she’s been pretty transfixed.

Cinzia is kissing Pearl, with Tom watching her devotedly.

Connie mutters something in Italian.

“What?”

“He needs not to be so, how do you say?”

“Lovesick?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Poor boy.”

“Yes, and poor Aunt Lucia when she finds out her daughter only wants the older men. She was telling me, she thinks they are better.”

“It doesn’t bear thinking about it, does it, when Nelly and Pearl are that age?”

“No, I hope this one will be a boy. One daughter will be enough, I think, for my nerves.” She pats her tummy.

“But as long as everything is okay, I don’t mind. But I wish it was tomorrow. It is so much longer this time.”

“It better not be tomorrow, we haven’t done the wallpapering yet.”

“Great party, Jo.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

He sighs. “I think I might need to shake things up a bit with Cinzia. I might have overplayed my hand a bit.”

“Oh, right.”

“Time for Plan B.”

“Which is?”

“Go cool. Don’t return her texts, drives them mad.”

I think Cinzia might give him a run for his money on that one, but let’s see. I’m not going to tell him she’s already announced she only likes older men.

She’s putting Pearl down now, and walking over to us.

“Right, I’m off then. Start as I mean to go on sort of thing.”

“Thanks Tom. Beyond the call of duty to come and help, but I’m really glad you did.”

“No, I enjoyed it. Bye, Cinzia. I’m a bit busy next week, but I’ll call you, okay?”

He winks at me and Connie as he leaves. Cinzia looks puzzled. Maybe he’s not quite as daft as I thought.

“Thank you too, Cinzia, for helping with the party.”

“I have loved it. An English birthday party.”

“We don’t always have quite so much ice cream.”

“Look at the Principessa, she is dancing.”

Pearl is bobbing round in a circle, wearing her tiara.

“She looks like Philippe, he is terrible at dancing. But he has the eyes. So the dancing is not so much.”

“Who’s Philippe?”

“He is French, at my course.”

Connie smiles. “But Tom, he is nicest, yes?”

Cinzia shrugs. “He is okay, but now he is too young. Philippe is older, and French.”

Poor Tom.

“Thanks Mum, it was my best party ever. And I think I’ve decided on my name for my rabbit. I want to call him Peter. The magic man said you don’t want anything fancy for rabbits, you have to keep it simple.”

“Did he?”

“Yes. And his rabbit is called Peter, and he can do magic, with the hat and stuff.”

Thank God we haven’t got a top hat, or the poor thing would probably find itself spending quite a bit of time stuck inside it.

“All right.”

Peter Rabbit it is then. I’m going to feel like I’m channeling Beatrix Potter every time I feed it. Knowing my luck, Jack will start lobbying for a hedgehog, and we’ll be Mrs. Tiggy-Winkling before we know it. And I’ll be the horrible Mr. McGregor chasing everyone round the garden. I’ll probably end up with busloads of Japanese tourists coming round to photograph our pets.

“I’m going to be a magic man when I grow up, Mum.”

“Are you, Archie, that’s nice.”

It’ll probably come in handy if he knows a few diverting tricks when Jack tells people he called his rabbit Peter.

“Come on then, let’s get home and you can open the rest of your presents.”

“Yes, and Mum, I need a top hat, to practice my tricks.”

“I think you have to start with simpler tricks than that, Archie.”

He tuts.

By the time it’s finally Wednesday morning, I’ve gone off the whole idea of the television thing, and I’m seriously thinking about going home and hiding. Gran and Reg and Elsie have been in the shop since dawn cleaning and fussing, and Cinzia’s raced back from the school run and is lurking before she takes Pearl to baby gym, hoping for her three minutes of fame. It’s only a quarter to ten and I’m already exhausted. Even Pearl has picked up on the tension and is throwing a mini-strop because she wants to go upstairs. But Elsie’s just finished hoovering up there, so I don’t want Pearl rearranging things.

“Cinzia, maybe you should take her to her class now?”

She pretends she hasn’t heard me.

Actually, I’ve just had a brilliant idea. I’ll go to baby gym with Pearl and leave them all to it.

“They’ll still be here later, Cinzia, I promise.”

Just when I think things can’t get any tenser, a huge white outside broadcast van pulls up outside, blocking the High Street, even though they’re meant to be parking in the lane behind the shop. I’m giving them directions when Ellen arrives in a swish silver car with a driver, and her producer, Scott, who is looking as nervous as I feel.

“Hello darling. Why is the truck here, Scott?”

“I’m not sure, I’ll just—”

“It’s fine, Ellen, they’re just about to move.”

“Well make sure they don’t park in the wrong fucking street, would you, Scott? I’ll be with Jo. I need a coffee. Come on, darling, let’s get inside.”

“Gran and Reg are here, and Elsie, and they’re a bit excited. Just so you know.”

“They’ll be fine. We’ll film them for background shots and then they can relax. Sweet windows, I love the little flowers.”

“They’re primroses, Elsie made them.”

“So they are. You look brilliant, by the way; the skirt suits you. Are those the boots we bought last year?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they look great. Once we get some makeup on you, you’ll look fabulous.”

“I’m wearing makeup.”

“Yes, for normal life, darling. Not a six-foot HD telly.”

“Thanks a lot, that really helps.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve brought Elaine, she’ll sort you out. She does all my makeup, and she’s a genius.”

“She’s going to have to be.”

“Your hair looks nice. Top marks, darling.”

Tina did it for me yesterday, so it’s a bit sleeker than usual, and I hope my dark green velvet skirt and the cardigan I knitted in the pretty catkin color look okay with my best cream silk shirt. I looked all right at seven o’clock this morning, but I still feel wildly underdressed compared to Ellen. And Grace hasn’t arrived yet, which will ramp up the fashion gorgeousness to a whole new level.

“Morning, my dear. Left the dogs at home, thought they might get in the way, shall I go through? Sit at any table, is that the drill?”

Great. Lady Denby has arrived. Just what we need. She must have a network of spies; she always seems to know about anything remotely exciting happening in the town.

Ellen gives her one of her Britain’s Favorite Broadcaster smiles. “Good morning, I’m Ellen Malone.”

“Are you? Marvelous. So exciting, putting Broadgate on the map, do carry on.” She gives Ellen a dismissive wave and goes inside.

“Is she the mad old bat who showed up at the knit-in when they were threatening to close the library?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Well, if your Diva doesn’t turn up I can always interview her. I bet she’s got a few stories to tell. Barking old aristocrats always do.”

“True, but it would probably be something about the Prince of Wales in 1913. Or a special moment during the Blitz.”

“We’ll meet again? I love all that. Great, that’s my backup story sorted.”

“Maybe I should ask her to bring the dogs along after all, and Lord Denby. He calls everyone Moira, and the dogs like licking people’s shoes. That way you can get the full experience. ”

“Well, they better not bloody try it with these. They’re Stella McCartneys.”

“Well give them back to her and you can borrow a pair of mine.”

“Highly amusing. Will you be cracking duff jokes on air, darling, only I’m not sure—”

“Stop it. I’m nervous enough already.”

“I know you are, but I’m here now, it’ll be fine and anyway, get a grip, darling, you worked in news, you know how to handle yourself on camera. We did all those bloody training sessions, it’ll all come flooding back.”

“The ones where you and Nick were brilliant and I fell right off that swivel chair?”

She kisses my cheek. “You only did that once, and you did it very beautifully. Come on, get me a coffee. We need caffeine.”

I think I might be needing more than caffeine, but I’ll give it a go.

Scott is busy setting up in the workroom upstairs, rearranging the furniture and moving the wicker baskets, which I’ve filled with a selection of wool in the nicest colors. Elsie’s standing by with her duster in case anything needs another polish, and Al, the cameraman, has filmed Cinzia until Scott made him stop, so now he’s wandering around outside taking shots through the café windows, with everyone looking very bright-eyed over their teas and coffees. Lady Denby has even put on extra lipstick. Gran and Betty are having a lovely time with Reg, who’s wearing his best suit, giving me the occasional wink. And Tom’s behind the counter, with his white apron wrapped tightly round what look like new jeans, and a clean gray T-shirt, which also looks a bit tighter than the ones he usually wears. He’s making coffees like his life depended on it. Laura is sitting at one of the tables with Tina, knitting and chatting like they’ve got all the time in the world. I just hope to God they use a second or two of the footage of Elsie behind the counter, or I’ll never hear the end of it.

“You didn’t tell me he was so gorgeous, darling.”

“Who?”

“Your Tom, very nice.”

“He’s not my Tom. And anyway, he’s pining; he’s got a crush on Cinzia.”

“Bless. Well, you could soon take his mind off that. They say every man needs an older woman in his life at that age, show them the ropes, that kind of thing.”

“Only if someone shows me first.”

“I can get you a book, darling.”

“Do shut up, Ellen.”

“Suit yourself, but I’m just saying, gorgeous, right under your nose, can make a decent cup of coffee. The words
gift horse
and
mouth
come to mind.”

“Only to your mind. He’s just a few years older than Jack.”

“Oh stop it, he’s got to be twenty if he’s a day.”

“He’s nineteen. Jack is ten this year. See what I mean?”

“Haven’t you heard of MILF, darling? Very popular amongst teenage boys.”

“No, and I don’t want to know what it stands for. They don’t go in for things like that round here.”

“I bet they bloody do. Mothers I Would Like to—”

“Go Fishing with?”

“I give up.”

“Good.”

Oh, God, I’m never going to pull this off. Ellen can snap into broadcast mode effortlessly, but I haven’t been near a studio in years. I’ll sit there dumbstruck, and look like a nutter. Oh God.

We’re sitting upstairs now, and I’ve practically inhaled two chocolate croissants, which strangely seems to have helped. Grace has arrived, and looks breathtakingly beautiful, in full Screen mode, although Maxine is a very calming presence. She’s been very fierce about reminding Ellen what the agreed parameters are: knitting, the new film, no personal life questions, nothing about Lily, no follow-up questions to anything Grace might say. But just seeing her standing there is strangely comforting. Ellen’s looking at her notes, and then suddenly we’re sitting down, with Ellen and Grace on the old leather sofa I found in a junk shop in Margate, and I’m sitting in the armchair. The sun is in my eyes, but I daren’t move after Scott spent so long setting everything up. The chair is quite slippy actually, so I’m sliding forward while Ellen and Grace seem to manage to stay beautifully upright. I’ll probably slide onto the floor at some point. Bloody hell.

“Remember to breathe, darling. Okay, here we go.”

Ellen winks at me, and Grace gives me one of her Diva smiles. Oh God.

“So here we are in beautiful Broadgate, with Grace Harrison. You live nearby, don’t you, Grace?”

“Yes, Ellen, we love it here. The light is so beautiful.”

And they’re off, chatting away like old friends, with Grace saying that the British coastline is such a treasure she feels very lucky to be so near to it.

“We used to get the bus and go for days at the seaside, me and my mum, so it brings back lots of happy memories. She used to knit, and sew, she made most of my clothes, so when I saw this fabulous shop, I just couldn’t resist. It makes me feel closer to her somehow, making things for Lily. Mum did try to teach me, but I didn’t have the patience back then. But now I’m a mum myself I love it, and Jo is such a great teacher; it makes all the difference having someone to call on when you get in a muddle, although that happens less now. But knowing she’s nearby means I can tackle more complicated patterns. I love sitting by the fire in the evenings with my knitting. I know it’s not very Hollywood, but then I’m not really a Hollywood kind of girl. And there’s something so timeless about it. It puts things into perspective. There’s a danger when you work in the film business that you can start to take yourself a little bit too seriously. Connecting to something so elemental is very important to me.”