Page 40 of Musical Games
‘Here’s to surviving the evening,’ she said as she chinked it. She necked the Prosecco and Jamie threw the whisky down his throat. Fiona took the glasses off them.
‘Well done. You can come in now. Shoes go over there. Make yourself at home.’ Fiona led her into an open-plan room that spanned the length of the house. The living room area was dominated by a large sofa in front of a wall-mounted flatscreen TV, and the rest of the floor space was filled with brightly coloured plastic toys and a Jumperoo that Liam was sitting in. The kitchen diner was at the other end of the space with a table and chairs and high chair for Liam. The walls were covered with photos from Fiona’s wedding and Liam. Duncan was in the kitchen and gave her a wave.
Sam took the wine and shortbread out of her bag. ‘I know it’s a bit like bringing coal to Newcastle, but I brought you some shortbread. It’s gluten-free, so you might think it’s a bit crap compared to the real thing.’
‘You’re a sweetie, thank you,’ said Fiona. ‘Have you got enough at Mum’s for you?’
‘Tons. She made a double batch. And I wanted to bring something to say thanks for cooking for us.’
‘Oh, we’re not cooking for you. Jamie is.’
Sam looked over at him. He was red-faced and rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided her gaze.
‘But he can’t cook.’
‘Ah well, if you don’t like what he gives you, there’s plenty in the fridge.’ Fiona poured her another glass of Prosecco. ‘We’re buggering off now. Have fun.’
‘But what about instructions? I need to know what to do.’
Fiona walked to the door and put her coat and boots on. ‘It’s easy. Give him more whisky. If he annoys you, tell him he’s a dickhead. Come on, Dunc, time to go.’ She pushed her husband out the door and closed it behind her.
The house was silent except for the sound of Liam bashing something that went ‘squeak’.
Sam stared at Jamie. ‘What the fuck just happened?’
He gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘My sister happened. It’s easier if you keep your mouth shut and do what she says. At least, that’s been my coping strategy for the past twenty-seven years.’
‘But I don’t have a clue what to do with a baby!’ she cried, her anxiety levels rising.
‘It’s okay. I’ve got this. You don’t need to do anything.’
‘But apparently you’re cooking. You can’t do thatandlook after a baby.’
‘I’ve done it at least twenty times before.’
Sam tried to keep her feelings off her face.It doesn’t matter what crap he gives you, just eat it and be grateful. She took a big gulp of Prosecco. Alcohol was going to get her through the inevitable shitstorm of an evening.
‘Why don’t you sit down,’ he suggested. ‘Put the telly on.’
She backed nervously away, skirting past Liam and perching on the arm of the sofa. Jamie lifted the Jumperoo with Liam inside and carried it to the kitchen, then went to the fridge and lifted out three plain blue plastic bags.
A takeaway?‘What are we having?’
‘Thai. It’s all gluten-free.’
She perked up. Thai was her absolute favourite and the ready-made sauces you could buy in the shops weren’t terrible. Even a total moron could get it right. She watched as he brought out fresh herbs and vegetables, peanuts, chilli, ginger, chicken. Holy shit, was that galangal and tamarind? Thai holy basil? Where the fuck were the jars of sauce you plopped onto some cooked chicken? She pushed off the sofa.
‘Are you making everything from scratch?’
Jamie nodded, continuing to empty the bags.
‘Where the fuck did Fiona get all this from?’
He stopped moving. ‘I got it this afternoon. There’s a good Asian supermarket an hour away.’
Sam’s brain froze as it struggled to assimilate this information.
‘But, er, do you know what you’re doing?’
