‘Useful for keeping it warm,’ she says, opening it and breaking off a piece of garlic bread.
‘That couple in IKEA were right,’ I reply. ‘It certainly does have an ambience here. Eau de estuary.’
‘The space really flows,’ she agrees.
‘It’s very current.’
‘I bet they’re laughing all the way to the bank.’
We’re in danger of becoming hysterical again, but I need my wits about me if I’m going to complete this mission, so pour myself a glass of water from a metal jug that was probably covered in algae six months ago.
‘Tell us about Calum,’ I say, partly to annoy my mother, and partly because I’m genuinely interested in my sister’s man of mystery. When this is all over, I would like to get to know my new brother-in-law, maybe get him to check out Bigwig, who I hope is safe and happy in the staffroom.
‘He’s from Cornwall, he likes surfing, and he has a dog called Gawain.’
Wonderful stuff; I can feel Rose bristling beside me. ‘So Gawain lives with you on the farm now?’
‘Yes. The girls didn’t like him at first but now they get on.’
‘What breed is he?’ I’m prolonging this avenue of conversation purely for the pleasure of the pain it’s causing the old dear. My sister in a three-way with a vet and his dog.
‘Collie, but Calum thinks there’s something else in there – maybe a bit of Labrador?’
‘Mixed breeds are healthier, aren’t they?’
‘Oh yes, hybrid vigour.’
Rose, who considers herself entirely pure-bred and all the better for it, changes the subject. ‘Were there any guests at your . . . ceremony?’
Maz’s gaze slides away. ‘No.’
‘No one?’
‘Well . . . we had lunch with his parents after.’
Rose’s gasp is audible. ‘And did they not think it unconventional that you had no family members present? That your own mother wasn’t there?’
There’s another silence as Maz cuts and chews her lasagne. ‘No, they knew why you weren’t there.’
‘Why wasn’t I there? Pray enlighten me?’
Maz swallows. ‘Because I didn’t want you there. If I’d had you, it would have had to be everyone. All . . . the family. You would have turned it into a fanfare.’
It’s truth bombs all round today. As my mother subsides into enraged silence, I say ‘Did you not want me there either?’ I don’t ask it with rancour – I thoroughly approve of Maz’s decision and just wish I’d had the balls to do it myself, rather than enduring the wasps’ nest. All through my wedding, I was mentally under the table, spooning Viennetta.
Maz’s smile is sympathetic, infinitely understanding. ‘You would have ended up telling her, you wouldn’t have been able to help yourself. Or at least, the usual you wouldn’t.’
It’s a low blow, but a fair one. I would have tried to lie, failed miserably, and ruined it all. I take her hand across the table.
‘Well done,’ I say, and she squeezes it, her eyes full.
‘You may be having a sisterly moment,’ says Rose. ‘But I remain appalled by this. To be treated so shoddily. It’s made one thing very clear to me.’
Still holding hands, we both turn to her.
‘Made what clear?’
Rose straightens in her seat, clearing her throat. ‘We are gathered here today because I have my own announcement to make . . .’
Oh God, here we go. Cue Wagner’s Bridal Chorus. Maz clasps my fingers and I can feel another laugh begin to build in my throat.
‘I’m not getting any younger . . .’
‘You’re a spring chicken.’
‘. . . and in my advancing years . . .’
‘Twenty-one if you’re a day.’
‘. . . I want to make some life changes, so . . .’
‘Dignitas?’
Rose taps the table, irritably, to quell me. ‘My neighbours’ recent deplorable activities have caused me to reassess my situation . . .’
‘Orgies in the hot tub?’
‘. . . With the result that I have . . .’
