Page 9 of Still Me
“This is Louisa,” he said.
She turned to me. “My new ally,” she said.
“Your new assistant,” said Mr. Gopnik.
“Hello, Louisa.” She reached out a slender hand and shook mine. I felt her eyes run over me, as if she were working something out, and then she smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile in return.
“Ilaria has made your room nice?” Her voice was soft and held an Eastern European lilt.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“Perfect? Oh, you are very easily pleased. That room is like a broom cupboard. Anything you don’t like you tell us and we will make it nice. Won’t we, darling?”
“Didn’t you used to live in a room even smaller than that, Agnes?” said Tabitha, not looking up from her iPhone. “I’m sure Dad told me you used to share with about fifteen other immigrants.”
“Tab.” Mr. Gopnik’s voice was a gentle warning.
Agnes took a little breath and lifted her chin. “Actually, my room was smaller. But the girls I shared with were very nice. So it was no trouble at all. If people are nice, and polite, you can bear anything, don’t you think, Louisa?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
Ilaria walked in and cleared her throat. She was wearing the same polo shirt and dark trousers, covered by a white apron. She didn’t look at me. “Dinner is ready, Mr. Gopnik,” she said.
“Is there any for me, Ilaria darling?” said Tabitha, her hand resting along the back of the sofa. “I think I might stay over.”
Ilaria’s expression was filled with instant warmth. It was as if a different person had appeared in front of me. “Of course, Miss Tabitha. I always cook extra on Sundays in case you decide to stay.”
Agnes stood in the middle of the room. I thought I saw a flicker of panic cross her face. Her jaw tightened. “Then I would like Louisa to eat with us too,” she said.
There was a brief silence.
“Louisa?” said Tabitha.
“Yes. It would be nice to get to know her properly. Do you have plans for this evening, Louisa?”
“Uh—no,” I stuttered.
“Then you eat with us. Ilaria, you say you cook extra, yes?”
Ilaria looked directly at Mr. Gopnik, who appeared to be engrossed in something on his phone.
“Agnes,” said Tabitha, after a moment. “You do understand we don’t eat with staff?”
“Who is this ‘we’? I did not know that there was a rulebook.” Agnes held out her hand and inspected her wedding band with studied calm. “Darling? Did you forget to give me a rulebook?”
“With respect, and while I’m sure Louisa is perfectly nice,” said Tabitha, “there are boundaries. And they exist for everybody’s benefit.”
“I’m happy to do whatever...” I began. “I don’t want to cause any...”
“Well,with respect, Tabitha, I would like Louisa to eat supper with me. She is my new assistant and we are going to spend every day together. So I cannot see the problem in me getting to know her a little.”
“There’s no problem,” said Mr. Gopnik.
“Daddy—”
“There’s no problem, Tab. Ilaria, please could you set the table for four? Thank you.”
Ilaria’s eyes widened. She glanced at me, her mouth a thin line of suppressed rage, as if I had engineered this travesty of the domestic hierarchy, then disappeared to the dining room from where we could hear the emphatic clattering of cutlery and glassware. Agnes let out alittle breath and pushed her hair back from her head. She flashed me a small, conspiratorial smile.
