Page 38 of Things We Never Said
‘A man with a Hoover,’ Maggie says.
‘A Dyson,’ Sean corrects. ‘And I’ve always done the hoovering. Even when Catherine was around, it was always my job.’
Maggie stares into his eyes for a moment and smiles vaguely. Sean can sense that she is noticing his newfound ability to mention Catherine without his voice becoming brittle. ‘Good,’ she says, then, ‘I suppose it should be dysoning, really. Not hoovering. But it doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?’
‘Not really, no,’ Sean agrees. ‘Vacuuming, maybe?’
Maggie wrinkles her nose at the suggestion. ‘So in addition to hoovering, do you make coffee?’
Sean smiles. ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Come through.’
‘So, how have you been?’ he asks as he plugs in the kettle and pulls the cafetière from the cupboard. ‘I haven’t seen you for weeks.’
Maggie shrugs off her coat and hangs it over the back of a chair. ‘And whose fault would that be?’ she asks.
‘I wasn’t really thinking it was anyone’s fault,’ Sean says.
‘I came last weekend, actually,’ Maggie says. ‘But you were out.’
‘I was at April’s place,’ Sean explains. ‘We went to that Brexit demo.’
‘Brexit demo?’ Maggie repeats.
‘Well, anti-Brexit demo.’
‘I didn’t know there was one, to be honest.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Sean says as he spoons ground coffee into the glass jug. ‘It wasn’t huge. And the media pretty much ignored it.’
‘I think everyone’s given up,’ Maggie tells him. ‘But well done for trying.’
‘I think you’re right. That’s what it felt like, anyway.’
‘It’s strange,’ Maggie says. ‘I mean, they’ve admitted that the money won’t go to the NHS. And they’ve admitted we aren’t getting some fabulous trade deal. And they’ve said that immigration won’t even go down now, too. It’s as if everyone agrees that it’s a stupid idea, but everyone accepts that we’re going through with it anyway. It’s like a horrible toddler who has made a stupid decision but is sticking to it rather than admitting the error. It all smacks of cutting off your nose to spite your face more than anything else. Cutting off your continent to spite your face, perhaps.’
‘That’s exactly what’s happening,’ Sean says.
‘My sister’s all for it, you know?’
‘Really?’
Maggie nods. ‘She lives in Ealing. They call it Little Warsaw. Not that I think that’s a recent thing. I think the Poles have been in Ealing since the war, but there’s no telling Angie that. Anyway, she’s all for Brexit if it means the poor Poles will have to bugger off.’
‘They may well all bugger off,’ Sean says. ‘But they include her doctor and her nurse and probably her plumber, too. I think she’ll miss them if they do leave.’
‘That’s what I keep saying. Anyway. You went to the demo. That surprises me. But in a good way.’
‘It was just something to do with April, really. She’d never been to a demo before.’
‘Never?’
Sean shakes his head.
‘Gosh,’ Maggie says. ‘Kids today! And how is lovely April?’
‘Um, pregnant,’ Sean says.
Maggie’s eyes widen. ‘No!’
