Matilda leans forward in my defence. ‘Not quite, Stu. Harry’s recovering from a bout of food poisoning. Right, Harry? She was an angel to come to tea with me this week and she’s a positive saint to take on a Holbeck Thanksgiving all things considered. So, let’s give her a break, shall we?’ I watch her words work on the group, their interest in me waning, except for RD’s. His eyes fix on me and I catch the ghost of his curious smile again before he breaks the connection.
Heads dip in concentration as the food is served, and intermittent conversation bubbles along. My eyes catch Matilda’s and she winks.
After the first course I take the opportunity to swivel in my seat to gently insert myself into Lila and Oliver’s conversation about their respective children.
‘I don’t know how Fiona does it though, Ollie,’ Lila croons. ‘Your boys are so independent. Milo is…’ she breaks off, throwing a look across to the children’s table where her son Milo sits, with his halo of soft curls. Her child from a previous relationship. ‘He’s sensitive, you know,’ she continues. ‘He needs to know I’m around or he goes crazy,’ she grimaces. ‘I mean, like, crazy crazy, all the time.’
‘You should talk to Nunu,’ Oliver says. ‘She spent some time with Billy before he started pre-school. He wouldn’t leave Fi’s side, but now he’s fine. Some boys are just that way.’
I look over at Billy, the youngest of Oliver and Fiona’s boys. He sits happily playing beside Milo, the Holbeck profile already taking hold of his tiny features.
My gaze flits to the much-feted Nunu, a jolly-looking woman in her fifties. She must have been so young when she nannied Edward and his siblings back in the ’90s. She looks across, feeling all of our eyes on her, and gives a warm smile before signalling for Oliver to come over.
Oliver leaves me with Lila and I take the opportunity to try to fill in some gaps in my family knowledge.
‘Nunu’s quite young, right?’ I ask, and when Lila raises an amused eyebrow, I can’t suppress a giggle. ‘No, I mean she’s much younger than I expected her to be. She was their nanny too, right? Edward, Matilda, Oliver and Stuart’s?’
‘No, they had someone else back then,’ she says with a smile. ‘But that one left after the whole thing with Bobby,’ she adds casually.
‘The whole thing with Bobby,’ I echo, trying to remember if Edward ever mentioned a ‘Bobby’ to me.
‘Yeah,’ she says, her tone suddenly sobering. ‘Can’t say I blame her for leaving. You couldn’t have paid me enough to stay after that. The whole thing was just—’
Oliver’s hand firmly lands on Lila’s shoulder, interrupting her, and he smiles down at us both. ‘You’re up next, Lila. Nunu will see you now. I put in a good word for Milo. And apparently,’ he says with raised brows, ‘Milo is already asking if he can stay over tonight with the rest of the boys. Without Mumma.’
‘No. Oh my God.’ Lila rises and turns to me with a yelp of excitement. ‘Hey hey, Nunu certainly doesn’t mess around, does she?’
As Lila glides away, two questions drift in her wake. Who the hell is Bobby? And why have I never heard of him?
7 Billy, Bobby, Strudel and Port
Thursday 24 November
As the second course is taken away, a wave of nausea resurfaces and I calmly make my excuses to head off in search of the nearest bathroom.
Safely installed in a large cream marble bathroom, I let my shoulders relax, releasing a tension I had forgotten I was even holding. Nausea temporarily abated, I lean on the basin and inspect my face in the mirror. My make-up is still in place despite my strong expectation of it having completely melted from my face through a combination of hot flashes and social anxiety. My hormones are all over the shop.