Mini Shopaholic

I quite like the look of those biscuits myself. And the cakes.

With the very tips of her fingers, Elinor places a biscuit on a gold-embossed plate and hands it to Minnie. Is she crazy? A priceless porcelain plate from the Ritz … and a toddler? I almost want to cover my eyes as I imagine Minnie dropping the plate, hurling the plate, crushing the biscuit to crumbs, basically causing chaos …

But to my amazement, Minnie’s sitting bolt upright, her plate on her lap, the biscuit untouched, her gaze still fixed on Elinor. She seems mesmerized by her. And Elinor seems a bit mesmerized by Minnie, too.

‘I am your grandmother, Minnie,’ she says rigidly. ‘You may call me … Grandmother.’

‘Gran-muff,’ says Minnie hesitantly.

I feel a sudden bolt of panic in my heart. I can’t have Minnie going around saying ‘Gran-muff’. Luke will want to know what or who ‘Gran-muff’ is.

I can’t even pretend she’s talking about Mum, because Minnie calls her ‘Grana’, which is totally different.

‘No,’ I say hurriedly. ‘She can’t call you Grandmother or Gran-muff or anything like that. She’ll only say it at home and Luke will find out. He doesn’t know I’m here.’ I feel the tension creep into my voice. ‘And he can’t know. OK?’

Elinor is silent. She’s waiting for me to continue, I realize. I really am calling all the shots here.

‘She can call you …’ I search in my mind for something innocuous and impersonal. ‘Lady. Minnie, this is Lady. Can you say “Lady”?’

‘Lady.’ Minnie gazes at Elinor uncertainly.

‘I’m Lady,’ says Elinor after a pause, and I feel a sudden twinge of pity for her, which is ridiculous, because this is all her own fault for being such an ice-queen bitch. Still, it’s a bit tragic to be sitting in a hotel suite, being introduced to your own grandchild as ‘Lady’.

‘I bought an amusement.’ Elinor gets up abruptly and heads into the bedroom. I take the opportunity to brush down Minnie’s skirt and cram an éclair into my mouth. God, that’s delicious.

‘Here you are.’ Elinor stiffly proffers a box.

It’s a jigsaw of an Impressionist painting. Two hundred pieces.

For God’s sake. There is no way on earth Minnie can do a puzzle like this. She’s more likely to eat it.

‘Lovely!’ I say. ‘Maybe we could do it together!’

‘I’m fond of jigsaws,’ says Elinor, and my jaw nearly drops open. This is a first. I’ve never heard Elinor say she’s fond of anything before.

‘Well … er … let me open it …’

I open the box and shake the pieces on to the table, fully expecting Minnie to snatch them and post them into the teapot or something.

‘The only way to do a jigsaw is to be methodical,’ says Elinor to Minnie. ‘First we turn the pieces over.’

As she begins doing so, Minnie grabs a handful.

‘No,’ says Elinor, and shoots Minnie one of those chilly glances which used to make me want to shrivel. ‘Not like that.’

For a moment, Minnie is motionless, the pieces still clutched in her tiny hand, as though working out just how serious Elinor is. Their eyes are fixed on each other and they both look deadly determined. In fact …

Oh my God, they look like each other.

I think I’m going to hyperventilate or pass out or something. I’ve never seen it before – but Minnie has the same eyes and tilt of her chin and the same imperious stare.

My worst fear has come true. I’ve given birth to a mini-Elinor. I grab a tiny meringue and munch it. I need the sugar, for the shock.

‘Give the pieces to me,’ says Elinor to Minnie – and after a pause, Minnie hands them over.

How come Minnie’s behaving so well? What is up?

Elinor has already begun arranging the pieces on the table, her gaze focused. Blimey. She’s serious about liking jigsaw puzzles, isn’t she?

‘How is Luke?’ she says, without looking up, and I stiffen.

‘He’s … he’s … fine.’ I take a sip of tea, suddenly wishing it was laced with brandy. Just the mention of Luke has made me jumpy. I shouldn’t be here; Minnie shouldn’t be here; if Luke ever found out … ‘We’ll have to go soon,’ I say abruptly. ‘Minnie, five more minutes.’

I can’t believe I’m acting with such confidence. In the past it was always Elinor sweeping in and out on her own terms, and the rest of us dancing attendance around her.

‘Luke and I had a … disagreement.’ Elinor’s head is resolutely bowed over the pieces. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">