“God.” Coralie reeled. “Where’s my phone? Hello, Met Police? I need to report a child. Yes, she’s right next to me. It’s Zora Whiteman, age six and three-quarters. Yes,verydangerous. I’m afraid she’s far too clever.”
If there was a better feeling than making Zora laugh, Coralie was yet to find it.
5
Lunch appeared very finished when Coralie and Zora returned to the kitchen. Anne and Sally were sitting back, their napkins on the table. Adam was standing at the stove and lifting the potlid, a hopeful expression on his face. “Wait, I want some more of that too!” Coralie said. “If there is some.”
“That’s sad to hear. I could eat that entire meal again.”
“Adam,” Anne warned. “You shouldn’t.”
“By the way, Sally!” Coralie said. “The door is so beautiful.”
“I’ve still got a few details to do when it’s dry. All Zora’s idea. We have quite the young historian here.” Tucked under Sally’s arm, Zora glowed.
“Coralie?” Anne was peremptory. “Adam doesn’t have a clue. What are your plans for renovating the house?”
“Oh. Okay. Right.” Coralie turned toward the street and planted her feet. “At the moment there are the two front rooms. The sitting room faces north. Luckily, the window is quite big and still lets in the light. The dining room, with the big table and chairs, is currently not well used.”
“I use it,” Adam said. “I work in it.”
Coralie gave him a look that said,Whose side are you on?“Everyhouse in this run of terraces,” she went on, “has a blank paved space along the side of the kitchen.” She gestured at the window over the sink, and they all took a moment to gaze at the jasmine and dog rose suffocating the run-down fence shared with their elderly neighbor, Mavis Ballantyne.
“The side return,” Sally said, “I believe it’s known as.”
“Dada? Can I have the iPad to watchMadagascar 3?”
Adam got up silently to unplug the iPad from its charger near the fruit bowl.
“Yes, the side return,” Coralie said. “Almost all the houses have extended the kitchen out sideways to make better use of that space.”
“Not next door, though,” Anne observed. “The old Jamaican lady.”
“Miss Mavis is Hackney royalty,” Adam called over his shoulder. “She’s lived there for fifty years.”
Now Anne was staring toward the front door and frowning. “What happens to the back window of the room with the dining table?”
“The whole wall comes off and steel beams go in for support.” Coralie was pacing and waving her arms around, her movements growing more flowing as Anne’s expression remained blank. “There’ll be a couple of steps down into the newly widened kitchen. Glass rooflights all along the sloping side of the ceiling. There’ll be room for more storage under the stairs, a small powder room, a pantry.”
“No, I don’t understand it.”
“Mum’s not a house person.” Adam sat back down at the table. “I first realized she was with someone new”—he raised his eyebrows at Sally—“when I came home on the weekends and our house was lookingnice.”
Sally got to her feet. “I’m going to finish Zora’s door. It all sounds beautiful, Coralie, especially the extra light. When will the work start?”
“My boss, Antoinette—her builders have agreed to do it. They’ll start as soon as their current job is finished. Maybe as early as January.”
“Great time to take the back off your house,” Anne said.
“Great timing for my book,” Adam said in Anne’s voice.
Coralie gave him a long stare.
“Tell me, Coralie,” Anne said in a challenging, BBCNewsnightway. “What’s your status here?”
“Here—in the home?”
“No!” Anne laughed, and for a second she looked quite pretty. “In the UK.”
