Caroline called Richard and he agreed that they could stay for afternoon games. Then there was a pause. ‘Actually, could we all come over?’ said Richard. ‘It’s dead boring here.’
Caroline thought.
‘No,’ she said, but not unkindly. ‘It isn’t my home to invite you. But we’ll speak soon.’
Pearl, stacking the big dishwasher downstairs, wrote a text and deleted it, and wrote another and deleted it again. Then, finally, she texted the simple words, ‘Thank you. Merry Christmas’ and sent it to Doti. What else was there to say?
‘What are you doing down there?’ came Ben’s deep voice.
‘Nothing!’ said Pearl.
‘Good,’ said Ben. ‘Because I have an idea of a few things we could do.’
Pearl giggled and told him off, and felt the touch of his warm hand on her face and thought after that simply, Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.
Chapter Nineteen
Galette de Rois, the Cake of the New Year
30g almond paste
30g white sugar
3 tbsp unsalted butter, softened
1 egg
¼ tsp vanilla extract
¼ tsp almond extract
2 tbsp all-purpose flour
1 pinch salt
1 packet of puff pastry
1 egg, beaten
one favour (traditionally a small china – not plastic! – figurine)
icing sugar for dusting
one gold party hat
Preheat oven to 220°C/gas mark 7; line baking sheet with baking paper.
Blend almond paste in the food processor with half the sugar, then add the butter and the rest of the sugar, then the egg, vanilla and almond extracts, then flour and salt.
Roll out one sheet of the puff pastry, about 20cm square. Keep the pastry cool; do not knead or stretch. Cut a large circle. Repeat and chill the circles.
Mound the almond filling on to the centre of one of the pastry circles on the baking sheet. Leave a large margin. Press the figurine down into the filling. Place the second sheet of pastry on top, and seal edges.
Egg-wash the top of the pastry and add slits (artistically if you like).
Bake for 15 minutes in the preheated oven. Do not open the oven until the time is up, as the pastry will not fully puff. Remove from the oven and dust with icing sugar. Return to the oven and cook for an additional 12–15 minutes, or until the top is a deep golden brown. Transfer to a wire rack to cool. Crown with gold party hat. Give gold party hat to whoever gets the favour (or Louis).
Austin turned up at Marian’s with a bottle of kirsch, even though he wasn’t quite sure why. He instantly felt a bit strange, being the only man there without a beard, but everyone seemed very nice – there were about four families, and dumplings were boiling on top of the stove. There were no decorations up, of course, no cards, no television; nothing to indicate that this wasn’t just another day. Which of course it was. To everyone else.
Darny was happily sitting chatting to one of the old men in the sitting room over a small, sticky-looking coffee.
‘We’re discussing the nature of evil,’ said Darny. ‘It’s great.’
‘Is that coffee?’ said Austin. ‘Great. That’s all you need.’
He popped his head round the door. ‘Hi, Maria … Miriam. Do you need a hand?’
‘No, no,’ said Marian, who was rolling out pastry, very badly.
‘OK. Listen, is it all right if I give Darny his presents? I realise it’s not really …’
‘No, no, that’s fine,’ said Marian. ‘Half of them get secret presents anyway, we’re just not supposed to mention it.’ She smiled naughtily.
‘You seem really happy here, really settled,’ said Austin.
Marian grinned and looked out through the kitchen door. In the sitting room, a man in his fifties, with a long beard and beautiful brown eyes, glanced up, caught the gaze and smiled at her.
‘It’s all right,’ said Marian, colouring. ‘Though of course everyone here is too smart for me.’
‘Are you pretending to be stupid?’ asked Austin, affectionately.
‘No, that would be you,’ said Marian, giving him a look that reminded him inexorably of her daughter. ‘Now, give your brother his gifts. He thinks he isn’t getting any.’
‘Really?’
Austin went back into the room with the large bag of presents.
‘Merry Christmas,’ he said.
Darny’s eyes widened. ‘I thought I wasn’t getting any presents.’
‘What, because you’re Jewish now?’
Darny shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Because I’ve been so awful.’
Austin felt as though his heart would crack.
‘Darny,’ he said, kneeling down. ‘Darny, whatever happens … I never, ever think you’re awful. I think you’re amazing and brilliant and occasionally a bit tricky …’
‘And in the way.’
‘Well, that’s not your fault, is it?’
Darny hung his head.
‘If …’ he said. ‘If I hadn’t got chucked out of school, would we still be living in England with Issy?’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Austin. ‘It’s good that we’re here. It’s good. Isn’t it?’
‘So you can make lots of money and work all day and I’ll never see you?’ said Darny. ‘Mmm.’
He sat down and started opening his gifts. Austin looked on, as did the other children, fascinated to see what MacKenzie had bought. There was something called an NFL game for the Wii (which Darny didn’t have), and a long basketball shirt that came down to his knees and looked like a dress, and a baseball cap with a propeller on the top. Darny looked up at Austin. ‘I don’t know what any of this is for,’ he said quietly. ‘Is it to make me American?’
‘Don’t you like it?’ said Austin.
Darny looked down, desperate not to appear ungrateful. He had been on his best behaviour. It was slightly freaking Austin out.
‘Yes … I mean, you need a computer and stuff to work it … but I suppose …’
There was a pause.
‘Thank you,’ said Darny.
A much older boy with an incipient wispy moustache picked up the NFL game. ‘I can show you how to work this if you like.’
‘Thanks,’ said Darny, brightening a bit. ‘Cool.’