Perfect Blend: A Novel (26 page)

“You know, you really are perfect,” Sam said, giving her a final kiss.

Amy was barely awake. “You’re perfect, too.”

Chapter 11

“
UURRGH, THAT GREEN
stuff looks like boogers in cat puke! I’m not eating it.”

Amy, who was removing a tray of tofu nuggets from the oven, gave her son a weary look. “Charlie, stop playing around; you’ve had guacamole at Arthur’s house, and if I remember, you rather liked it.” She glanced up at the kitchen clock. It was just past two. Arthur’s party was due to start in under an hour, and she and Victoria still had the sandwiches and going-home bags to do.

“No, I didn’t. And I don’t like that stuff, either.”

He was referring to the celery boats, hummus, and crudités his mother had just put into serving dishes and laid out on the table.

“Charlie, why are you being such an old grump?” She suspected he was jealous of all the attention Arthur had been getting today. On top of that, Charlie’s birthday present to his cousin hadn’t gone down well. He still hadn’t spent the three pounds of bribe money his mother had given him, so when he saw a rubber stegosaurus almost identical to the one Arthur had tried to grab from him the other day, he insisted on buying it.

It cost five pounds, so Amy added the extra two pounds. He was convinced his cousin would be delighted. Instead, Arthur had taken one look at the stegosaurus and discarded it with barely a thank you. Amy got him three Captain Underpants books, which most boys his age adored because they were full of gross stuff. When she saw them, Victoria gave a disapproving sniff. Arthur mumbled his thanks. Amy didn’t take offense. She was wise enough to understand that his apathy toward his presents wasn’t due to his being spoiled and ungrateful. He was simply miserable because his parents weren’t together and his dad hadn’t been there when he woke up to wish him a happy eighth birthday.

“I’m not being a grump,” Charlie said. “I just want to know why we can’t have pizza. We had pizza at my party.”

“I know, but this is Arthur’s party, and he’s having different food. Here, taste one of these. You might like it.” She blew on a crispy tofu nugget and handed it to Charlie. He squirmed, but Amy urged him to try it. His trepidation bordering on the theatrical, he took a bite out of the nugget. A second later he was spitting it into his hand. “That’s disgusting.”

“You didn’t even taste it,” Amy said, wiping his hand with a paper towel. “Listen, Charlie, I need you to behave today. I know you don’t like this kind of food, but at least give it a try. And do not start spitting it out.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Okay, you can spit it into your napkin, but try to be discreet.”

“What does ‘discreet’ mean?”

“It means don’t make a big fuss.”

Charlie shrugged. He was just about to head into the garden, when Victoria appeared.

“Charlie, darling, take off your Arsenal shirt, there’s a good boy. I think maybe you should wear something a bit smarter for the party.”

Charlie looked wounded. As far as he was concerned, his Arsenal shirt was the smartest garment he owned.

“Oh, come on, Victoria,” Amy pleaded. “Don’t make a fuss.”

“I’m sorry, Amy, but I find football shirts so unspeakably common. And if Charlie wears his, Arthur will insist on doing the same. Please …”

Amy rolled her eyes. She put the tofu nuggets back in the oven to brown a bit more and took a protesting Charlie into his bedroom to find a clean T-shirt.

WHEN AMY
got back, Victoria was arranging candles on Arthur’s sugar-free, egg-free Hogwarts Express cake. She always created magnificent birthday cakes for her children. She would spend days on them. This year, though, she hadn’t been up to it, and the masterpiece had come courtesy of one of her girlfriends, who ran a business making novelty cakes.

Victoria, as the self-appointed
capo di capi
among her group of mothers superior, was always scrupulous about providing healthy food on these occasions. Conscious of childhood allergies, she made certain that there was nothing that contained nuts, although Amy was convinced that Victoria kept a couple of EpiPens about her person just in case the odd peanut slipped by her and a child collapsed and went into anaphylactic shock.

Today Victoria was providing soya milk shakes for the lactose-intolerant and cow’s milk shakes for the soya-intolerant. There were no eggs, strawberries, or shellfish. Everything had been checked and double-checked for additives, food colorings, and nitrate levels. The piñata had been especially commissioned and filled with boxes of organic raisins.

Everything was sugar-free, gluten-free, fat-free, fun-free.

At Arthur’s last birthday party, Victoria had decided not to hire a clown. Instead, a Japanese chef came and taught the children to roll vegetarian sushi. That was followed by a Japanese tea ceremony. Worst of all, Victoria insisted on no presents. Instead, a goat was donated in Arthur’s name to a village in Africa. When the children arrived empty-handed, Arthur burst into tears. Then one child, whose mother hadn’t gotten the message about the goat, arrived with a plastic remote-controlled truck, which Victoria confiscated and returned to her on the grounds that it wasn’t recyclable and would only end up in a landfill site.

This year there was to be a clown and presents. According to Val, it was Arthur’s father who had come to his rescue. She had been speaking to Simon in an attempt to broker a truce between him and Victoria. During their conversation, Simon had let it slip that he had told his wife “in no uncertain terms” that he would pay for the party only if there were presents and a proper entertainer.

What Val didn’t know but Amy did was that Simon had also set Victoria an ultimatum: She had to get a shrink or the marriage was over. “What choice do I have?” Victoria had said to Amy. “I still love him, so I agreed.”

“So you’re going home?” Amy had asked. “Not that it hasn’t been great having you. And if you’re not ready to go, don’t. Feel free to stay as long as you like.”

“That’s kind of you, but we’ll be leaving after the party. Lila will be home in a few days. I’ve upset one child by moving him out of his home; I’m not about to do the same to his sister.”

Amy assured her she was doing the right thing by agreeing to see a therapist, but she could tell her sister felt threatened by the idea. Being a patient would undermine her sense of power and superiority.

Simon arrived at half past two. Amy opened the front door. “Hi, Si. How you doing?” He was carrying a large box covered in Spiderman paper.

“A lot better, thanks. And apparently it’s you I’ve got to thank. How on earth did you manage to get through to Victoria? She never listens to me.”

“It’s you who got her to agree to see a shrink.”

“Yes, but you did all the groundwork.”

“Maybe it was easier for me,” Amy said, “because I’m not married to her. There isn’t that inevitability that it’s all going to end in a fight or one of you walking out.”

“I guess.”

“You know, Victoria’s got a lot of issues to sort out, and that’s going to take time. You’re going to need to be patient.”

“I know. That’s what worries me. I’ve put up with her behavior for so long. I’m just not sure how much more I can take.”

Amy urged him to hang on.

“I’ll do my best. Thanks again, Amy. You don’t know how much I appreciate what you’ve done.” With that he gave his sister-in-law an affectionate squeeze. “So I hear from your mum that you’re stepping out with a rather eligible architect slash artist. Is it serious?”

Amy paused and allowed her face to break into a smile. “Dunno … could be.”

“Good for you.”

No sooner had Simon walked into the kitchen than Victoria started berating him. “Simon, I told you specifically to wear chinos and a shirt, and here you are in jeans.”

“What difference?” he said, putting Arthur’s present down on the table.

“And for God’s sake, mind the food,” Victoria scolded.

Amy could sense an altercation developing. It was nipped in the bud by Arthur appearing and launching himself at his father. Simon picked him up and hugged him so tight that Arthur screamed that he couldn’t breathe. Simon put him down. “Here you are,” he said, handing Arthur his present. “This is from me and Mum.”

Arthur ripped into the paper and began tugging at the box. His mother warned him to take it easy or he would break what was inside. “Yay!” Before him was a radio-controlled yacht. “Let’s take it to the pond and try it out.”

Simon promised they would go with Charlie after the party.

Just then the door buzzer sounded. Amy looked at the kitchen clock. It was too early for Arthur’s friends to be arriving. “Oh, God, this is either Mum or Dad,” Amy said to Victoria. “I hope we didn’t make a mistake inviting both of them. What if they start fighting?”

“It’ll be fine,” Victoria insisted. “They’re grown-ups. They’ll behave. And I wanted them here. Now that Simon’s mother and father are gone, they’re Arthur’s only grandparents.”

“I think you just want to get Mum and Dad back together again,” Amy said with a good-humored chuckle.

“Hey, don’t pretend you wouldn’t like it.”

Amy couldn’t.

When Amy opened the door, it wasn’t just her parents standing on the mat. With them were Trevor and Joyce. Phil and Val were carrying presents for Arthur.

“Surprise!” Joyce cried. “Now, don’t panic, Amy. Your dad and I discussed with Val and Trevor whether we should all come today, and we decided it was the most civilized thing to do. We even drove over in the same car, and we all got along like a house on fire.”

Well, aren’t we the very picture of a modern and postnuclear family, Amy thought, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she greeted the group with delighted astonishment. “Right. Yes. Absolutely,” she said. She looked at the four of them. Her dad and Trevor were standing behind the women. Phil was jingling the change in his pocket. Trevor was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Amy suspected the men had discussed the recession and cricket and had discovered they had absolutely nothing left to talk about. Val was putting on a brave face, without doubt because it was Arthur’s birthday. The only person who seemed totally relaxed and at ease was Joyce.

Amy greeted her with a double kiss. Once again she smelled alcohol on her breath. This clearly went some way toward explaining her demeanor.

Having ushered them all in and welcomed them with more kisses, Amy suggested they go into the living room.

“So where’s the birthday boy?” Joyce said, clapping her hands.

Amy said she would see if she could find him. Instead she headed into the kitchen.

“What? The porn poetess is here?” Victoria hissed. “In my house?”

“My house,” Amy said.

“Whatever. Get rid of her. If the other mothers find out what she does, I’ll never live it down.”

“Victoria, calm down. I’ve told you, Joyce is lovely. Now come into the living room and say hello.”

By then Arthur and Charlie were already there, whooping and cheering and tearing into presents. Val had bought “a little something” for Charlie so that he wouldn’t feel left out.

Victoria took one look at Joyce and winced. “What does she look like?” she muttered to Amy as she took in the bright blue eye shadow, the gash of red lipstick, and the low-cut top that exposed several inches of crepey cleavage.

“Now, this must be Victoria,” Joyce cooed. “I’ve heard so much about you from your dad.” She turned to Phil. “These girls of yours are such beauties. Of course they take after their mother.” She winked at Val, who seemed pleasantly taken aback by the remark.

Victoria extended her hand to Joyce. “How do you do.”

“Oh, not so bad, thanks. Now, then, no need to stand on formality with me. Come here and give me a kiss.” Joyce grabbed hold of Victoria and pulled her toward her so forcefully that Victoria collided with the woman’s shelf of a bosom. As Joyce’s arms engulfed her, Victoria went boss-eyed and looked like she might choke.

At that moment, Simon appeared. Victoria introduced him to Joyce.

“Now, then, aren’t you a handsome fella. I bet you’ve broken a few hearts in your time.”

Amy shepherded everybody, including the boys, out to the garden and said she would be along shortly with glasses of wine. Joyce stopped off on the way to use the “little girls’ room.”

Amy and Victoria went back to the kitchen.

“My God, that woman is so loud and over the top. And she stank of booze. Couldn’t you smell it?”

“As it happens, I did.”

“So she’s not only a pervert, she’s a lush. Fan-bloody-tastic.” Victoria pulled the Saran Wrap off the guacamole. Amy had considered telling her sister about Phil’s penis extension and decided against it. Right now, she was glad she had. Straws and camels’ backs suddenly came to mind.

Victoria’s anguish was relieved by the arrival of the clown. Lulu, a bulky lass, ambled into the kitchen, followed by Amy, who once again had been dispatched to answer the door. Lulu was in full costume: clown face, bowler hat, jacket covered in sparkly stars, stripped leggings, and a pair of purple Doc Martens. Her assemblage was completed by a pair of outsized heart-shaped sunglasses.

It was a moment or two before Victoria looked up. She was using pastry cutters to create space-rocket-shaped sandwiches and cursing the tuna mayo for daring to ooze out at the edges.

“Nightmare,” Lulu said to Victoria by way of greeting.

Victoria shook the clown’s hand, took in her getup, and smiled with approval. “I know,” she said. “I think I put in too much filling.”

“No, I meant the traffic. The traffic was a nightmare.” Lulu put down her ghetto blaster and bag of magic tricks and took off her sunglasses. Apparently the A3 had been chockablock from Guildford to Clapham. She was gagging for a cuppa—two sugars, thanks. Ooh, and a biscuit would be nice. Digestive if you’ve got it. Amy invited her to sit down and said that she happened to be in luck with the digestives. Lulu explained that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast on account of Jessica having developed an anal fissure.

“And Jessica would be your partner?” Victoria said, attempting to be right on for once.

“What? No. She’s my pet rabbit. You know, Jessica Rabbit. I spent the morning with her at the vet.”