“We did bring them a little something as a thank you.” Charlie handed over a perfectly wrapped box.
“Doggie!” Arlo made a beeline for the sleeping Labrador.
“Not while he’s asleep, sweetheart.” Elda intercepted her preschooler with a strong but gentle scoop. “You have to wait until he wakes up and then we must use gentle hands, okay?”
“Henri’s quite deaf now, and he won’t hear you coming, so we have to be careful not to frighten him.” Sylvie bopped down to Arlo’s level. “Otherwise he might get cross with us. Now, Charlie would you do the honors with drinks? There’s a bottle chilling in the fridge. Boys, would you like to make your own pizza?”
The littlest boy screeched his delight as Sylvie brought out two chef’s hats for him and his brother to wear. “First, we have to wash our hands.”
“Good luck with that,” Charlie said, pouring three large flutes.
“How were your travels?” Sylvie asked, attempting to minimize the splash from the kitchen sink.
Elda grabbed a towel. “All fine. Eli and Arlo love an airport breakfast, don’t you, boys?”
“I had two sausages and three hash browns,” Eli said.
Sylvie frowned, never having really grasped the concept of an English breakfast.
Charlie laughed. “Yep, smooth enough at the other end too. We picked up the car and made our way down here. Not much on the roads, to be honest.”
“You’re ahead of the usual rush.” Sylvie set the boys the task of rolling out their balls of dough and bit her lip as they created a cloud of flour.
“Sorry,” Elda mouthed from across the kitchen island.
“It’s fine. It’s all about keeping them entertained.” Sylvie wiped her forehead, leaving a smudge of flour above her brow. “You two look tired.”
“The joys of two under five.” Charlie gulped at her champagne. “We were all ready for a break, hey, hon?”
“Absolutely. I’ve been busy gearing up for the exhibition launching in the new year.” Elda tucked her hair behind her ear. “In fact, I was wondering if you’d come over for it.”
Charlie coughed. “Elda’s being modest. It’s the biggest solo show she’s ever produced.”
“Oh, don’t hype it up, Charlie.” Elda threw a playful punch ather wife. “I’m trying to keep it low key, so I don’t completely lose my mind.”
Sylvie grinned. Elda had always been a talented artist, but since she’d found her confidence, she’d gone from a relative unknown to a pretty big deal. “Of course I’ll be there. I love seeing your work.”
“And we like those posh little snacks they serve with the drinks, don’t we, boys?” Charlie asked. “They think Mama’s work is all about the catering.”
“And what about Mummy’s work?” Sylvie asked.
Charlie laughed. “Hard to describe family law to a three-year-old. He’s all cops and robbers and thinks I’m the judge.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start with European feminism. Mind you, I struggle to explain it to my class of twenty-one-year-olds, let alone a toddler.” Sylvie placed three bowls of toppings in front of the boys. “These are to put on top of your circle.”
Arlo tipped the entire bowl of cheese onto his blob of dough.
“Think we might need a bit more cheese grating,” Elda said, trying to salvage her youngest’s lunch.
“Now, once you’re done building your pizza, we’ll go outside and put them in the oven.”
“Outside? Why is your oven outside?” Elijah asked.
“Because it’s a special oven just for pizzas that gets super-hot.” Sylvie beamed. “I lit it a couple of hours ago, so it would be toasty for when you got here.”
“Aunty Sylvie is really spoiling you guys, isn’t she?” Elda raised her glass in Sylvie’s direction.
“I like pizza too. It’s a win-win.” Sylvie smirked. “Why don’t you two put your feet up in the lounge, while I run the boys around the garden and cook pizza?”
