‘It won’t be for long,’ she says, soothingly. Though she knows ‘not long’ is one of those unfathomable lengths of time that can stretch to an eternity. ‘You’ll be back in London before you know it.’
The girl doesn’t respond for a long moment. Then in a small voice she says, ‘And then what?’
I don’t know, do I? Mercedes thinks irritably. I’m not God. But she makes a soothing sound and takes the empty bottle back.
‘I miss my mum,’ Gemma says.
‘I’m sorry,’ says Mercedes. She’s not sure what to add. For all she knows, the mother could be dead. She can’t imagine what sort of person would abandon their daughter so young. Certainly not one who would deserve to get her back.
She finds foqqaxia in the bread bin and fills it with scamorza and ham, warms it in the oven for a few minutes before she takes it out to Paulo. As she comes into the hall, she hears the shush of footsteps. Retreats into the shadows beneath the stairs, to be out of the way. It’s Matthew, purple feet in black rubber flip-flops, a disconsolate Sara trailing in his wake. Sara looks so little beside him. It must be like having a wardrobe tip over onto you, she thinks. I’m surprised they come out of these weekends with their skeletons intact.
Through the open sala door, Jason Pettit complains. ‘I thought we were getting that one,’ he whines.
Tatiana, irritable. ‘Well, you’ll just have to make do with me.’
‘What’s happened to the other one? D’you think she’s had a bath yet? How about her?’
‘Oh, shut up, Jason,’ snaps Tatiana. Mercedes guesses that her trip isn’t panning out the way she’d hoped.
Paulo looks glum in the shadow of the jacaranda. He takes the sandwich and the coffee, breaks into them with ferocity. ‘All right?’ he asks.
She shrugs. ‘Well, you know.’
He chews reflectively. ‘My eldest is four years off those girls’ age,’ he says. ‘I keep thinking about that. She’s getting into the make-up and the clothes and the boys.’
She waits. He has another bite, heaves a heavy sigh.
‘I’m going to have to stop,’ he says. ‘I can feel myself turning more and more into a dragon dad. I caught myself shouting at her to wipe that shit off her face last time I was back. They don’t know, do they? They’ve no idea what men are like.’
‘Some men,’ she says, surprised to find herself in this position. Roles reversed.
A toss of the head. ‘Yeah. You’re right. See? This job is skewing my perspective. You can’t turn a blind eye forever, though, can you? Not and keep your soul at the same time.’
She looks at him, thoughtfully. ‘No,’ she says. ‘No, you can’t.’