‘Happy birthday,’ I said to Mr Madden, seating myself in the high-backed chair beside him. An exquisitely arranged plate, which I understood to be the first course, sat in front of me, bearing a small dish of paté and several delicate slivers of toast.
‘Not yet!’ he barked jovially, looking about the table with abrupt, jerking movements, a bewildered, slightly desperate smile on his face, as if he were unsure whether a mistake had been made.
‘We know it’s not yet, darling,’ said Pamela soothingly, placing a hand on his arm. ‘We’re just sort of seeing it in.’
‘A toast!’ cried Toby suddenly, raising his glass.
‘Oh yes, let’s have a toast,’ said Pamela.
‘To—’ Toby looked around the table, making it clear that his toast was not dedicated to any particular cause. His eyes lighted on Caroline. ‘To Caroline’s baby!’
There was a chorus of approval. Caroline blushed.
‘And Derek’s,’ she asserted over the noise. ‘It’s Derek’s baby too!’
‘Cawo,’ said Derek reprovingly.
‘We know it’s Derek’s baby, darling,’ said Pamela.
‘Unless there’s something you haven’t told us!’ snorted Toby, casting around the table for more appreciation in the wake of his toast triumph.
‘It’s just that you’re our daughter,’ continued Pamela. ‘Margaret probably feels the same about you, doesn’t she, Derek?’
‘She’s vewy pleased,’ nodded Derek.
‘I should hope she is!’ said Pamela. ‘Caroline told us you were going to name the baby after her.’
‘Only if it’s a girl,’ said Derek dubiously.
‘Obviously only if it’s a girl, darling,’ said Caroline between her teeth.
‘Well, I should be very flattered if I were her,’ said Pamela. ‘I’ve obviously abused my children horribly. They’d die rather than pay me that sort of a compliment.’
‘Ahhh,’ said Toby, putting his arm around her. ‘Poor Mummy.’
‘It’s true!’ protested Pamela. ‘When I think of what I went through to bring you four lumps into the world! And never a word of thanks from any of you!’
‘I’m not a lump,’ said Millie to Mark.
‘Mummy!’ shrilled Caroline nervously. ‘How can you say that?’
‘Thank you for giving birth to us,’ intoned Martin solemnly.
‘Now, now,’ said Mr Madden.
‘Thank you for fathering us,’ continued Martin, turning to him.
At this a mouthful of paté, which I had been surreptitiously consuming while the others conversed, lodged in my throat, causing me to choke.
‘Goodness!’ cried Millie.
‘Heave-ho!’ said Toby.
‘Not again,’ said Pamela, while Martin slapped me on the back.
‘Excuse me,’ I spluttered, my eyes watering.
‘Are you all right?’ said Mark, whom I could feel watching me from the other side of the table.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, glancingly catching his eye.
There was a pause around the table while my interruption was absorbed. As if by agreement, the assembled company bent their heads to their plates or took up their glasses.
‘Mark and I have got an announcement to make,’ said Millie presently. She took Mark’s hand firmly in her own. Their slender fingers lay entwined on the table.
‘What?’ said Caroline with her mouth full, looking around as if she had missed something.
‘Oh, darlings!’ cried Pamela, catching her breath and clasping her hands to her chest in anticipation.
‘We’ve decided that we’re going to move in together,’ beamed Millie.
‘You’re going to what?’ said Caroline.
‘Oh darlings,’ said Pamela, more severely. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’
‘What are they saying?’ said Mr Madden, casting about confusedly for some translation and eventually turning to me.
‘They—’ It seemed inappropriate for me to repeat the announcement, and so I sat far back in my chair, passing the responsibility to Martin.
‘They’re going to move in together,’ explained Martin. ‘In London.’
‘Move in?’ said Mr Madden, ‘Not get married?’
‘We don’t want to get married, Dad,’ said Millie.
‘Why ever not? Caroline did.’
At this Caroline’s face immediately took on a rigid expression. The compliment had evidently taken her by surprise, but not so much that she was unable to prevent herself from being seen to be glorying in it. She put her hand beneath her chin and looked interestedly at her father.
‘Mark’s against it,’ said Millie.
‘Against it? How can you be against marriage?’ Mr Madden guffawed, as if in appreciation of some joke, which he evidently expected to be informed his daughter’s remark was.
‘His parents are divorced,’ said Millie, while Mark looked silently down at his plate. ‘He’s seen how much damage it can cause.’
This remark, although I couldn’t discern why, was evidently judged to have exceeded the boundaries of good taste. There was an immediate chill in the atmosphere of the room. Millie sat with a stricken expression. Caroline touched Derek’s arm and quietly asked him to pass her the butter. Pamela stood up.
‘Right,’ she said brightly. ‘I think I’ll get the second course in. Would someone mind giving me a hand?’
‘I will,’ I said.
‘Thank you, Stella,’ said Pamela. She gave me quite a friendly look. Millie’s unpopularity had evidently freed up a quantity of approval which I, by my offer, had been able to claim. ‘If you could just stack up some of these plates and bring them out with you, I’ll go and get on.’
Obediently I toured the table, collecting the debris of the first course. As I reached over each shoulder to retrieve a plate, I seemed to be dipping briefly into the charged aura of another human being, tasting their incredible autonomy. Millie seemed to shrink from my proximity as I leaned past her, as if she were too delicate and fragile to withstand it. The sturdy, tanned back of Mark’s neck visibly prickled when I came to him. Derek was as mild as milk, yielding immediately to the temporary authority of my business.
‘Families!’ exclaimed Pamela when I reached the kitchen. She was tapping about in her high heels, incongruously glamorous. ‘Is your family as noisy as ours, Stella?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Do you know, I’ve never even asked you about your family!’ she shrieked, above the rattling of plates and dishes. ‘How many are you?’
‘Five. Four,’ I said.
‘You don’t sound very sure,’ she remarked.
‘I had a brother who died.’
‘Oh.’ She bent down, hands muffled in oven-gloves, and opened the oven. ‘How terribly sad.’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘You must miss him dreadfully.’
‘It was a long time ago. But yes.’
She didn’t say anything more. When she straightened up, her face looked pinched and rather annoyed.
‘Shall I start taking things through?’ I said anxiously.
‘You’re a darling.’ She laid a hand briefly on my arm and I flushed with pleasure. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. I hope that’s not too hot.’
She handed me a serving dish full of bright, steaming vegetables. I bore the dish out of the kitchen and into the ante-room. It was in fact very hot, and by the time I reached the hall I was forced to stop and put it down on the floor for a moment to relieve my hands.
In that moment, crouched on the floor beside the steaming dish, I had a most peculiar feeling. It started as a sensation of almost overwhelming unreality, as if I had woken up and found myself there without the faintest idea of how I had come to be so; but then this feeling peaked or crested in some way, and I felt it flood out of me like something boiled over. When it had gone, I became aware of the most remarkable silence; not in the house, but in myself. The roar of the past week had ceased. I was quiet. I was quiet inside. I picked up the serving dish and bore it into the dining room.