{"id":3307,"date":"2013-11-29T20:22:01","date_gmt":"2013-11-29T20:22:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=3307"},"modified":"2013-12-18T10:25:37","modified_gmt":"2013-12-18T10:25:37","slug":"suburban-pastoral","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=3307","title":{"rendered":"Suburban Pastoral"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a><\/p>\n

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\u2014Don\u2019t hit her with it Jasper, give it to her.<\/p>\n

The toddler looks round, distracted by a leaf. The purple doggie slips from his hand and tumbles down onto the lawn within his sister\u2019s grasp. Louisa reaches towards it, leaning beyond the brightly-coloured playmat onto the grass, eyes wide, mouth open. She grabs it with a fist, brings it up to her mouth and gives a grunt, then begins gumming at it with fierce determination.<\/p>\n

\u2014That\u2019s a good boy. Well done.<\/p>\n

Kate turns back towards the others with a half smile, basking in the re-established calm of the sun-dappled garden. It is not yet hot.<\/p>\n

\u2014More coffee?<\/p>\n

The baby gives a bark of protest as Jasper grabs the doggie from her mouth once more, nearly tipping her over. Arms flail as her stomach muscles fight to push her back towards the vertical, beating the air like a mad conductor, crashing into the stack of plastic cups beside her. Red, orange, blue, red, orange fall across her onto the lawn. Blue falls into her lap. Louisa picks it up and starts to chew. Clutching the doggie firmly in one hand, Jasper tears off towards the trees at the back of the garden in a jumble of arms and legs. He comes to a halt beside a bright yellow ball and drops the dog. He furrows his brow and flings a leg at the ball, which bobbles forwards for a foot or two and comes to rest. Jasper bustles up to it and kicks again.<\/p>\n

\u2014You know what it\u2019s like, Annabel. You just have to get back into the habit, and then you\u2019ll find yourself going once a month or so.<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

\u2014But it\u2019s such a pain, with all the queues and the delays and the trek to the airport and\u00a0everything.<\/p>\n

\u2014I know, it\u2019s awful really, but surely it\u2019s worth it when you get there. That\u2019s what Peter\u00a0and I always say. There\u2019s nothing like having your own space when you\u2019re on holiday.<\/p>\n

She rests one hand delicately on top of the pot as she pours, bracelets jangling as the\u00a0coffee flows into the cup.<\/p>\n

\u2014A little more milk?<\/p>\n

\u2014Thanks, that\u2019s enough. No dear, those are for mummy, they\u2019re not cooked through. You\u2019ll get a sore tummy if you eat one.<\/p>\n

The little girl pulls her hand back from the plate of brownies, her face a crude sketch of disappointment. She glances at her mother and gives a music-hall sigh.<\/p>\n

\u2014Poor little thing. They are divine. Where did you get them from?<\/p>\n

\u2014They\u2019re nothing special, I just picked them up from Giorgio\u2019s.<\/p>\n

Sophie turns back to Natasha and claps a hand to her mouth in sudden excitement.<\/p>\n

\u2014I know, maybe you could have another biscuit.<\/p>\n

The curtain of gloom is flung back in an instant as delight fills the girl\u2019s face. She gives\u00a0a little jump. Her mother taps her knees and throws her arms wide.<\/p>\n

\u2014Come here, you.<\/p>\n

Natasha leaps up onto Sophie\u2019s lap with a grin and reaches for the plate of Malted Milks. Her mother holds it for her while she picks one out, examining each biscuit carefully before\u00a0making her selection, then nibbling two-fistedly at it while she wriggles closer in. Behind her, Jasper bundles his ball into the herb garden, kicking up wafts of lavender and thyme until he is brought up short by a last-ditch tackle from the rosemary bush. He awards himself a sort of throw-in and sets off towards the sun-lounger.<\/p><\/div>\n

\n

\u2014And besides, Natasha loves going back to Les Marronniers, don\u2019t you dear. With the swimming pool and the little boat and all those lovely patisseries.<\/p>\n

Natasha works steadfastly at her biscuit. A blackbird trills from next door.<\/p>\n

\u2014She does enjoy a biscuit, doesn\u2019t she. I always say that if it wasn\u2019t for Jasper we wouldn\u2019t bother half so much with the villa.<\/p>\n

\u2014But doesn\u2019t it take away the spontaneity a bit, you know, Where shall we go this\u00a0year?<\/p>\n

\u2014You just have to make sure you fit in enough mini-breaks. I always think you can get the best out of a place in a weekend.<\/p>\n

The baby squirms on Annabel\u2019s lap, one arm reaching for the teaspoon by his mother\u2019s coffee cup. She picks up a set of plastic shapes and tries to put them in his hand. He drops them back onto the ironwork table with a clatter and reaches for the teaspoon again.<\/p>\n

\u2014No Henry, that\u2019s mummy\u2019s spoon. These are for you.<\/p>\n

\u2014Let the poor mite have it Annabel, he can\u2019t do himself any mischief with a spoon.<\/p>\n

She gives the spoon to Henry, who shoves it in his mouth and starts to chew, working it\u00a0from one side of his gums to the other.<\/p>\n

\u2014There\u2019s a good boy. Besides, one hotel\u2019s much like another, wouldn\u2019t you say?\u00a0There\u2019s only so much room service one can take.<\/p><\/div>\n

\n
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\u2014Well, maybe you\u2019re right. Perhaps we\u2019ll keep it on for a little bit and see how it goes.<\/p>\n

With the baby concentrating fixedly on the spoon, Annabel brings her coffee cup back\u00a0within his reach and takes a sip. A squirrel darts up into an apple tree and perches on a low branch. An aeroplane writes its passage across the bright, clear sky, sun glinting from its tiny fuselage.<\/p>\n

\u2014He really is enjoying that spoon, isn\u2019t he.<\/p>\n

\u2014Makes me wonder what we fill our houses with all this dreadful plastic for. I always tried to keep it down to the minimum with Jasper, but you just can\u2019t help it. Every time his grandfather comes to visit it\u2019s another bit of tat, which he uses once and then throws on the floor. I don\u2019t know how Eva puts up with it. We\u2019ve got cupboards full of the stuff.<\/p>\n

She waves a hand in the direction of the house with a shrug.<\/p>\n

\u2014And with Louisa now, it\u2019s really just too much. You get to the stage where you\u2019re begging people to take it away with them. There isn\u2019t anything I can persuade you to take for Henry, is there?<\/p>\n

\u2014Not unless you want to lose one of your teaspoons.<\/p>\n

A yellow streak thuds into Kate\u2019s shoulder and ricochets across the table, upending Annabel\u2019s cup in a rattle of porcelain. The coffee gushes over the wrought iron, cascading down through the holes onto Annabel\u2019s lap. She jerks the baby away from the hot, brown liquid and jumps up. The baby starts to cry.<\/p>\n

\u2014Jasper!<\/p>\n

He stands there for a moment, stock still, eyes fixed on the ball under the table.<\/p><\/div>\n

\n
\n

Suddenly his mouth opens, his eyes shut and he starts to howl.<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u2014Jasper! How many times have I told you to be careful when you\u2019re playing with your\u00a0ball. You mustn\u2019t frighten poor Henry like that.<\/p>\n

His face is bright red, his hands clenched by his sides.<\/p>\n

\u2014And look at poor Annabel\u2019s trousers. They\u2019re completely soaked.<\/p>\n

The garden echoes with his outrage and despair, waves of anguish beating against the\u00a0panes of the conservatory, buffeting the nets around the trampoline, flooding across the fence into the gardens on either side.<\/p>\n

\u2014Don\u2019t worry about the trousers Kate, I\u2019m fine, there\u2019s only a spot. And Henry\u2019s fine too, aren\u2019t you. Just a bit of a surprise wasn\u2019t it, that\u2019s all.<\/p>\n

The baby\u2019s wail has subsided into squawks of indignation, his hand reaching out for the teaspoon, abandoned on the table, as his mother jiggles him up and down. Jasper gasps in another lungful of air, still rooted to the spot, and carries on bawling.<\/p>\n

\u2014Now that\u2019s not the way we behave when we have guests, is it. Go and say sorry to Henry and Annabel for making such an awful mess.<\/p>\n

\u2014I\u2019m sure he didn\u2019t mean to, did you. It was just a terrific kick, wasn\u2019t it Jasper.<\/p>\n

Kate half-rises from her chair, holds out her hands to the yowling toddler.<\/p>\n

\u2014Oh stop now, that\u2019s enough little one. Come here you silly fellow. He is still just\u00a0learning, isn\u2019t he.<\/p>\n

Jasper gulps, sobs and takes two steps forwards, folding neatly at the middle as he\u00a0collapses onto his mother\u2019s lap, where he lies, shoulders heaving.<\/p><\/div>\n

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\u2014Poor thing. Does he want a biscuit?<\/p>\n

\u2014I think he\u2019ll be quite all right without.<\/p>\n

He looks up, reaches out towards the plate.<\/p>\n

\u2014Mummy, wan\u2019 biscuit.<\/p>\n

\u2014All right then, there you are. Would Natasha like one as well?<\/p>\n

Natasha shakes her head.<\/p>\n

\u2014And what about your trousers, Annabel. Do you want to borrow a pair of mine?<\/p>\n

\u2014No thanks, Kate, we\u2019re just heading home anyhow.<\/p>\n

\u2014You mustn\u2019t leave because of silly old Jasper.<\/p>\n

\u2014No, no, it\u2019s not that at all. I\u2019ve got a ton of things to do, and Henry and I need to go to\u00a0the Post Office later on, don\u2019t we.<\/p>\n

She smiles down at the baby in her arms, wrinkling her nose and waggling her head\u00a0from side to side as he carries on squawking.<\/p>\n

\u2014I\u2019ll give you a lift if you like. There\u2019s plenty of room in the Volvo and you\u2019re just\u00a0round the corner from ours.<\/p>\n

\u2014No, no, you stay, don\u2019t worry.<\/p>\n

\u2014No, it\u2019s fine, really. I\u2019ve got a spare seat for him in the back.<\/p>\n

\u2014Really, we\u2019re fine. It\u2019s only five minutes in the pram.<\/p>\n

Sophie lifts Natasha off her lap, stands up and puts a hand on Annabel\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u2014No I insist. It\u2019s no trouble at all. We really should be heading off anyway.<\/p>\n

\u2014Well if you\u2019re sure …<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
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\n

\u2014Jasper and I will be quite deserted with only your sister here, won\u2019t we.<\/p>\n

She pulls him closer on her knee, squeezing him around the tummy. He bats at her arm with his free hand, his mouth crammed with biscuit. Annabel gathers her things into a large shoulder bag: a pot of half-eaten organic pear pur\u00e9e, a chewed board book about polar bears and the set of plastic shapes, which starts to chime Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star in a thin, electronic soprano as it clatters in. Sophie picks up her car keys from the table.<\/p>\n

\u2014Come on Tash, we\u2019re going.<\/p>\n

Natasha stands her ground by the plate of biscuits.<\/p>\n

\u2014Oh, I meant to ask if you\u2019d heard from Rachel.<\/p>\n

\u2014Not for ages. You know she\u2019s living in a yurt.<\/p>\n

\u2014A yurt?<\/p>\n

\u2014Yes, she\u2019s pitched it outside some power station in the Midlands.<\/p>\n

\u2014Whatever for?<\/p>\n

A jingle of keys as Sophie takes Natasha\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n

\u2014Rachel\u2019s got awfully hot under the collar about global warming and all that.<\/p>\n

\u2014But she\u2019s still writing her stories isn\u2019t she?<\/p>\n

Kate leans forwards to take a sip of coffee.<\/p>\n

\u2014No, she said she\u2019d rather given up.<\/p>\n

\u2014Oh what a shame. She was doing awfully well with those little stories, wasn\u2019t she? And it\u2019s not as if you can\u2019t use a pen and paper in a tent. Why\u2019s she stopped?<\/p>\n

\u2014Said she couldn\u2019t see the point.<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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