Chapter 29 #2
He holds out his hand. I rise to my feet and shake it. “Molly.”
“Happy birthday, Horatio,” he says, then marches around the table and takes the seat next to his wife. “How was the traffic?”
“Bit busy in London,” Horatio says, snapping another breadstick in half. “Fine out this way.”
“Good.” He looks at me. “Didn’t bring you in that ridiculous car, did he?”
“You mean the Ferrari?”
He nods. “Completely impractical. And a ridiculous investment. The depreciation on that vehicle–”
“I like the Ferrari,” I say. “It’s a lot of fun.”
Alan stares at me like he doesn’t comprehend the word fun. Or maybe he disapproves of it.
“How’s the chicken coming along, darling?” Asha asks.
“Another ten minutes and it’ll be ready.”
“It’s roast chicken,” Asha explains to me. “Horatio’s favourite. I’d always cook it for him every weekend when he came home from boarding school.”
“You went to boarding school?” I blurt out.
As a kid myself, I read all the books that featured troops of kids trotting off to boarding school for an unending number of adventures.
I was seriously envious, stuck out in the woods with my parents and my sisters and not secret underground tunnels and stink bombs.
I’m not sure I’ve ever actually met someone who’d been to such a school in real life, though.
“Just for the sixth form,” Alan says. “It was good for him. We had a bit of trouble with him up until that point. He was a bit wayward back then.”
Horatio? Wayward? I can’t imagine that’s true.
“I always wanted to go when I was little, but in retrospect I think I’d have found it too hard. I got severely homesick just going on the school camping trip to Wales,” I say, attempting to stick up for my fake boyfriend.
“It was good for him,” Alan continues. “I don’t think he’d have made his grades otherwise. Certainly wouldn’t have gotten into the university that he did, and he wouldn’t be in the job he is now, otherwise. It all worked out for the best.”
Horatio visibly grimaces. I can feel the tension rolling off him again.
“What was boarding school like?” I ask him.
Horatio straightens the cutlery on the table in front of him. “I did miss home a lot.”
“Everyone’s homesick at first,” Alan says. “It’s good character-building stuff.”
“I’m not sure I’d have liked it,” I say, meeting Asha’s gaze across the table. “I’m a homebody.”
“And what do you do, Molly, for a living?” Alan asks me.
Why do I feel like I’ve suddenly entered a job interview?
“She runs a cupcake business,” Asha says. “Isn’t that lovely, darling?”
“Oh yes, lovely,” Alan says, not sounding like he finds it lovely at all. In fact, I’m not sure he approves of that either.
Good. Disapproving parents I can handle. I’ve been handling my mother and her disapproval for years.
A bell rings off in the distance and Asha pats her husband on the shoulder.
“That’s the buzzer, darling.” She rises from her seat. “Dinner is ready.”
“Can I help, Mom?” Horatio asks, also standing.
“No, you two sit here and enjoy the garden. Alan and I have it all in hand.”
Alan snaps back his chair, bolts upright, then marches back to the house, Asha a few paces behind him.
“Saved by the bell,” I say. “I think I was in for an interrogation. Probably wants to determine if I’m good enough for his stepson.”
“Doubt he cares,” Horatio says.
“Well, he didn’t sound like he approved of my job much.”
“All Alan approves of is money. Money and status.”
“But you care about those things too,” I point out.
Horatio turns his head to look at me. “Do I?”
“Don’t you? I mean, you have the smart flat. You have the designer shoes and the designer suit. You have the flashy car and the well-paid job. Those things must be important to you.”
“I suppose they are. I never really thought of it like that. I just sort of fell into this lifestyle. But I don’t think they’re the most important things to me, Molly.”
“What are, then?” I ask, pinching an olive and popping it between my lips.
“Friendship and family.”
“Are you saying that because you mean it? Or because it’s what everyone thinks they have to say? You are allowed to like money and status, you know. I run an illegal potion-brewing business – I’m not going to judge you.”
“I mean it, Molly. I’m just like everyone else.” His gaze holds mine. “I want to find the right person. I want to settle down. I want to have a family of my own.”
My ovaries literally throb inside my stomach at those words, and the butterflies that have been swirling around all evening seem to faint and swoon away.
“Really? That’s what you want?”
“Yes, like every other human on the planet.”
“Trust me,” I say. “Not every human on the planet wants that.”
“What do you want, Molly?”
“Hmm.” I pick up another breadstick and twirl it between my fingers like a magic wand. “I don’t really know. I mean, I want those things too. But I’d like to get my life sorted first.”
“Your life seems sorted, Molly.”
“Is it though?” I lean forward and whisper, “I’m running an illegal potion-making business from my home, remember?
I’m in constant fear of being caught and arrested.
It’s not exactly the most stable life. Not really conducive to finding the one, settling down, and starting a family.
” I flop back in my chair again. “And also… it’s not just the fear of being slammed with a massive fine – or worse being locked away – it does get a bit boring at times just brewing potions for pimples and sexually transmitted diseases. ”
“You brew potions for that?”
“I’ve brewed all sorts of potions, but I’d like to… I don’t know… to experiment more. Do something bigger, more ambitious. I think I have it in me. I just don’t know how to make it happen.”
* * *
Luckily, I avoid an actual interrogation.
While we’re eating our meal, Asha chats cheerfully about the garden, about her recent court cases, and about her family out in America.
She tells me funny little stories about Horatio’s past (that leave him squirming with embarrassment), and I ask her lots of questions, tell her all about my life in Hampstead, and regale her with my own funny stories about McGruff and the antics he gets into.
I exclude the part about magic, my demon best friend, and the fact that most of McGruff’s antics are down to me.
Alan and Horatio are mostly quiet, and I get the impression that everybody’s trying to avoid an argument. That’s why his mum’s talking so much.
Finally, when the meal is over, Horatio stands and starts gathering up the dishes. I do the same, helping him to carry everything into the kitchen, and his mother follows after us.
“I’m washing up, Mom,” Horatio says. “No arguments.”
“I’ll help,” I say. “I can dry.”
I spin around the humongously large kitchen, searching for a tea towel.
“Nope,” Asha says, pushing me towards the door. “You’re our guest. No chores for you. Go back outside and enjoy the garden. Alan will pour you another drink.”
“Mom, you’re not drying up–”
“We’ll leave the drying up,” she says. “I’m just going to make everyone a coffee, that’s all.”
I get the impression she wants some time alone with her son, so reluctantly I slump back out into the garden. I return to my seat and Alan offers to pour me another glass of wine.
“Yes, please,” I say, settling back in the chair and watching as the sun sinks low in the distance, hovering above fields of grass yellowed by the summer’s heat.
“He seems happy,” Alan says. “Much happier than usual.”
“Pardon?” I say, because it’s the last thing I was expecting Horatio’s stepdad to say.
“Horatio seems happy,” he repeats. “I assume that’s your influence.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I mumble.
“I assume it is,” he says, examining me from across the table. “You’re different from his usual girlfriends.”
You have no idea, I think to myself, nodding my head. Out loud, I say, “I’m not his usual type.”
“No, much cleverer. The others were airheads, the lot of them.”
“Me? Clever?”
“The way you talked with Asha about flowers, your business, and your homeopathy. You obviously know your stuff.”
He’s trying to flatter me. My knowledge about plants hardly points to a deep intellect. “I dropped out of college,” I tell him.
“Then you should think about going back and completing. It’s never too late.”
“That’s what your stepson said.”
“Son,” he corrects. “Horatio is my son. School isn’t for everyone. Horatio, for example, found it difficult. He needed constant challenge, constant encouragement, a constant – excuse my language – kick up the old arse, otherwise he just wasn’t interested and failed to put in the needed effort.”
“But he did okay in the end.”
“More than okay. We’re very proud of his achievements. Very proud of him.” He meets my gaze with a serious one of his own. “All he needs now is to settle down and start a family.”
“Not everyone wants that,” I point out, despite knowing what Horatio told me only minutes ago.
“But I think Horatio does.”
And I realise that Horatio’s stepdad knows him far better than Horatio realises and cares about him far more than he’s ever let himself believe.