‘The problem is,’ as Mrs Khan, his form teacher, had put it, ‘he has an extremely advanced vocabulary for his age. Which is both good and bad.’
‘Whose party?’ asked Austin doubtfully. ‘Oh, and don’t shoot any more arrows in the house.’
‘You’re not the boss of me,’ said Darny.
‘I am, for the thousandth time, the boss of you,’ said Austin. ‘Shut up or I won’t take you to this party. Whose party?’
‘Louis’s party,’ said Darny, firing an arrow into the light fitting. It stuck there. Both Austin and Darny regarded it with interest.
‘Hmm,’ said Darny.
‘I’m not getting it,’ said Austin. ‘Who’s Louis?’
‘The boy in the café,’ said Darny.
Austin squinted. ‘What, little Louis? The baby?’
‘You’re very prejudiced,’ said Darny. ‘I would hate to only have friends from my own age range.’
‘It’s his birthday today? And he’s invited you to his party?’
‘Yes,’ said Darny. ‘When you went in with the bank bags.’
Austin had popped in the previous week. After Issy’s party he had wanted to see her, even if just to make sure that things were all right between them, and not too embarrassing. Also, even though it was tough to admit it to himself, he missed her. Whenever he went past the now-thriving old men’s pub, he remembered her, all sad, or excited, or just generally emotional at breakfast. He liked spending time with her, there was no getting round it. He had liked spending time with her. He supposed that was coming to an end now; she certainly wasn’t popping round at breakfast time any more.
At any rate, when he’d gone to the shop after school one day, she wasn’t there, just Pearl and that scary-looking woman with the prominent jawbone, who’d done a funny breathy voice when she was serving him and stared deeply into his eyes, which might have been meant to be sexy or was maybe just hungry, he couldn’t tell. And sure enough, Darny and Louis had been on the floor together, playing. Louis had announced that he’d seen a mouse, and Pearl was mortified – apparently they’d had a story about a mouse at nursery, but shouting ‘Mouse, mouse!’ in a catering establishment was frankly bad for business. Darny had shouted, ‘Mouse, mouse!’ the next five times they’d gone out, in every café or fast food restaurant they’d been in, and sure enough, nobody liked it.
‘Hmm,’ said Austin. Well, it was a beautiful July day, and he didn’t really have a plan for them that afternoon.
‘We’ll have to cut your hair,’ he said to Darny.
‘No way,’ said Darny, who had to continually flip it back now to see.
Austin sighed. ‘I’m going to work in the front room, OK? Don’t turn the music up too loud.’
‘Mouse, mouse,’ said Darny sulkily.
Austin was worrying about whether he had time to get Louis a birthday present when he opened the first of the work mail he’d brought home in a rush. He had to stare at it for a couple of minutes before he got his head round it. It was a loan application for a property development initiative marked Kalinga Deniki … all properly filled in, all up to date. He looked at the address. Then he looked at it again. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be right. Pear Tree Court. But not one number in it: the whole of it. ‘A new paradigm in work/life style, conveniently situated in the heart of buzzing Stoke Newington,’ it said.
Austin shook his head. It sounded horrible. Then he glanced at the name at the bottom of the paper and shut his eyes in dismay. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. But there it was. Graeme Denton.
Austin lowered the paper in total shock. Surely not? Surely not Issy’s Graeme. But, of course, it was. Graeme. Which meant, as he had clearly seen at the birthday party, Issy and Graeme. Together.
So they must have planned the whole thing. This must be their little scheme. Posh up the area with a little cupcake shop then cash in on it. It was, he had to admit, very clever. The cachet would certainly add value to the properties. Then the two of them would scarf the profits and move on and do it somewhere else. Unbelievable. He was almost impressed. He glanced at the architect’s plans enclosed with the applications. There it was; a great big gate across the entrance to Pear Tree Court. Making it a private road. Blocking off that lovely little courtyard and the tree from everyone else. Austin remembered it just a few weeks ago, with the fairy lights in the tree and Felipe playing his violin. It had seemed such a happy place. He wondered how they’d managed to persuade the ironmonger to move. Well, people as ruthless as that … He supposed they’d stop at nothing.
He couldn’t help remembering, though, how eager, how keen Issy had seemed about her business; how hard she’d worked, how convincing she’d been. He’d been completely taken in. She must think he was a fucking idiot.
Austin realized he was pacing the room. This was stupid. Stupid. She was someone who’d needed a bank loan, and was well on the way to paying it back, and now they needed another and had good security and backing. It was a simple business proposition, and one that technically he’d support. Graeme’s company was a respectable one, and raising money from a local bank rather than a City titan made good practical sense for everyone, and would definitely impress the planners.
But he couldn’t believe his instincts about Issy had been so far off base. It made him doubt himself completely. She wasn’t what he’d thought at all, not a tiny bit of it. Amazing.
‘OK, so that’s Amelia, Celia, Ophelia, Jack 1, Jack 2, Jack 3, Jacob, Joshua 1, Joshua 2, Oliver 1 and Oliver 2,’ said Issy, counting from her list. ‘Harry can’t come.’
‘Harry gaw chin pox,’ said Louis. Pearl rolled their eyes. That meant they’d almost certainly all have it in a week.
‘Get ice cream chin pox,’ Louis told Issy importantly.
‘Well, when you have chicken pox, you will get frozen yoghurt,’ said Issy, planting a kiss on his head.
‘Iss ogurt,’ said Louis. Outside it was a glorious day, and Issy and Louis had already had a long game of running round the tree. Pearl looked on. Issy had told her everything that had happened. She thought it was for the best. Graeme had seemed such a petulant man. And when children came along, you didn’t want two infants to deal with.