Sunshine on a Rainy Day: A funny, feel-good romantic comedy. Bryony Fraser

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      Her laughter was interrupted by Graham abruptly getting up and mumbling something about finding the toilets. Linda was obviously put out by having what felt like one of her favourite jokes interrupted.

      Zoe sat a little closer to the table. ‘Do you get to go away much? On holiday, I mean? I think I quite fancy visiting China one day.’

      ‘Oh no, love, Graham couldn’t stomach somewhere like China. The food would just go straight through him. No, when we go away we tend to stick to what we like – a narrow boat around the Broads in April and a Greek island in September.’

      Zoe could just picture them: Graham shadowing Linda silently as she, with bumbag and sunglasses on a neck strap, spoke loudly about pickpockets and Proper Cups of Tea as she crushed millennia-old religious sites under her comfortable walking sandals.

      ‘That sounds lovely. I’ve always wanted to go to Greece. What’s it like?’

      ‘Well …’ She thought for a moment. ‘The key is finding the right places to eat, I think. Once we’ve found a nice café with English owners, I can relax and enjoy my holiday. No offence, but I’m not sure I’d trust those Greeks to wash the dishes properly, if you know what I mean.’ She looked at Zoe meaningfully.

      ‘Thanks Mum, we’ll get on with digging out your hidden subtext.’ He looked at Zoe. ‘Would you really like to go to Greece?’

      ‘Yeah, I think so. I don’t know if there’s anywhere I wouldn’t like to go, to be fair. As long as it wasn’t on a Foreign Office blacklist, obviously.’

      ‘No erupting volcanoes then.’

      ‘Or actual war zones.’

      ‘Or will.i.am gigs?’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Zoe giggled. ‘It’s something for the Christmas newsletter, isn’t it?’

      Linda perked up suddenly. ‘Oh, does your family do one of those too? Well, that is integration, isn’t it? I absolutely love doing them – I start drafting it in September, although Jack and Graham both rib me terribly. But I always say to them, if I don’t do it, it wouldn’t get done.’

      ‘And wouldn’t that be a shame,’ Jack said.

      ‘See what I mean, Zoe? People like it, Jack, even if you don’t. They want to know what’s happening with their friends’ children and spouses.’

      ‘Only so they can feel better about their own lives.’

      Linda tutted at Zoe. ‘They never want to know about dinner parties and Christmas cards until there are no women around to organise it all for them.’

      ‘Mum, maybe we just don’t care about those things in the exact same way you do.’

      ‘Of course you don’t, Jack. But maybe you will. Maybe you’ll care when you’re seventy-two and haven’t seen another human being for a month because your wife has died and your children don’t call and you’ve never bothered to write a Christmas card or invite someone over for a coffee. Maybe you’ll understand then how important “those things” actually are to living in a society.’

      There was a silence as Zoe looked more carefully at Linda, who was panting slightly with her strength of feeling.

      Jack picked his napkin up from the floor. ‘That escalated quickly. I was only talking about those show-off Christmas letters, Mum. I didn’t mean we should all die alone.’

      Linda picked at some imaginary fluff on one jumper sleeve. ‘Well. Maybe you don’t understand that the line between the two isn’t as black and white as you think. Maybe you don’t know everything quite yet, Jack.’

      Zoe gently touched Linda’s hand on the table. Linda jumped. Zoe said, ‘We’re all the same, aren’t we, students? Think we know everything because we’ve been to a few lectures. My mum despairs of me.’

      Linda smiled at her, a warm smile, the first Zoe had seen that evening, and put her hand on top of Zoe’s. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I think there’s hope for a few of you yet.’

      Just then, Graham shambled back from the toilets and slid into his chair.

      Linda pushed her plate back and gestured to a waiter. ‘Right. Pudding, anyone?’

      ‘Alright. Yes, I wasn’t expecting to meet your parents, but no, it wasn’t actually as disastrous as it could have been. I mean, I didn’t have my chosen Meet the Parents Outfit on—’

      ‘You have a specific outfit?’

      ‘Flowery skirt: not too short or I look like I’m the cheating type, not too long or it looks like they’ll never have grandkids. Soft jumper: wow, look how approachable I am, low key and fluffy. Wedge heels: yes, I’m into aesthetics, but not in a way that would ever get in the way of my relationship with your son.’

      Jack had his mouth open. ‘Wow, that’s … that’s awful. And brilliant. And awful.’

      ‘I know. But I just managed in this,’ Zoe said, gesturing at her jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket and battered trainers. ‘This is like the anti-Meet the Parents Outfit.’

      ‘And you still won them over.’

      ‘Did I?’ she said, with a disingenuous eyelash flutter. ‘Little old me?’

      Jack pulled her close. ‘I don’t know how you did it, but yes, you did.’

      ‘Your mum’s not so bad. I don’t think it can be easy, living with your dad like that.’

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘He never talks! Ever! Does he? Or was it just me? I feel like the poor woman has to keep speaking just to fill that void between them.’

      Jack stepped away. ‘Really? You think there’s a void between them?’

      Zoe took his hand, laughing. ‘I don’t know. I’ve met them once, for one fairly odd dinner. You know them better than I do.’

      ‘I’d honestly never thought about it that way before.’ He looked up at her. ‘That maybe my dad might be hard to live with. I always thought it was my mum who was the difficult one.’

      She kissed him. ‘Either way, we all survived the dinner, didn’t we? It might have been unexpected, but it wasn’t the apocalypse it could have been. Was it?’

      ‘My dad, when they left, actually said to me “She’s nice.”’

      ‘Wow, high praise.’

      ‘I don’t think you understand. That’s like Raymond Blanc saying your bouillabaisse is “quite tasty”.’

      ‘Because he’s such a connoisseur of women?’

      ‘No! It’s like Simon Cowell saying you’ve got a good voice.’

      ‘Because your dad’s made a career out of judging your girlfriends?’

      ‘No!’ СКАЧАТЬ