Perfect Day

company in my old age. I don’t mean having someone to look after me, I mean not living alone for a change.’
    ‘You can still be lonely with a child,’ Nell warns.
    ‘I’m going to find a starfish to take back to Mrs Bunting,’ Lucy announces, climbing up onto the balustrade and looking over the beach.
    ‘I’m not sure you’ll find one,’ says Nell.
    ‘They do come from the sea.’
    ‘Yes, they do, darling, and I know a lovely shop where you can buy a lovely starfish,’ says Frances to Lucy, ‘with a little label on the back saying Philippines .’
    ‘Can we go there?’ Lucy asks. ‘Mummy, can we go to the starfish shop?’
    ‘I think you’ve missed out a word,’ says Nell, gently. ‘Can we go to the starfish shop...?’
    ‘Now!’ says Lucy triumphantly.
    ‘We’ll go later,’ Nell says.
    ‘How will you look after it, though?’ she asks Frances .
    ‘Oh for God’s sake, I’m not even pregnant yet. I’ll think about that a bit nearer the time.’
    Nell’s about to object, when she remembers herself saying exactly the same thing. It’s a universal truth that people who do not have children think that people who do exaggerate the changes they bring to your life.
    ‘I want to go to the starfish shop!’ says Lucy.
    ‘After lunch,’ Frances says to the child, then to Nell, ‘There you see, I’m getting the hang of it already!’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Having two conversations at once.’

Eleven

    Kate watches little plates of sushi chugging round the conveyor belt. Alexander is explaining how the different coloured borders on the plates correlate to the price. She’s not really concentrating. It’s really difficult to think about eating when you’re so turned on by someone that your stomach’s got a permanent sinking feeling, and the rest of you is a tightly coiled spring that’ll leap if touched.
    She’s not that keen on fish anyway, but raw?
    The things you do for love.
    Love.
    Sick.
    Lovesick. Maybe that’s where the expression comes from.
    At least it doesn’t smell fishy. She wishes she’d said no, but he was so excited when he saw the sushi place, and she wants him to enjoy the Food Hall, having dragged him all the way here.
    ‘So, which one do you want to try first?’ he asks.
    ‘You choose.’
    She should’ve refused. He’s going to hate her more for gagging than he would have done for refusing to try it.
    A newspaper image of an American president throwing up all over his host at a Japanese state banquet pops into her head, and then her mind won’t move on as she tries to remember the president’s name.
    Alexander selects a portion of salmon sushi and puts it down on the counter between them. She looks at the three pieces on the plate with a turquoise border.
    ‘Am I meant to put the whole thing in my mouth?’ Kate asks.
    Alexander looks at her as if he doesn’t understand what she’s asking.
    ‘As Monica said to Clinton ,’ she adds, and immediately regrets it. What’s all this about American presidents?
    ‘I can’t believe you’ve never eaten sushi before,’ Alexander says. He’s pleased to be introducing her to a new treat.
    He takes a piece and eats it.
    She hesitates, then takes a piece between forefinger and thumb, opens her mouth wide, and puts it all in like he does.
    The fish doesn’t taste as fishy as she thought it would, so that’s all right, but it’s quite a lot to chew, and the rice is very dry.
    ‘What do you think?’ he asks.
    Her mouth is so full that there’s no room to start chewing. She mimes picking up a cup and drinking it. He gets the waiter to bring her a glass of water. She takes a little sip but it doesn’t help. When a child does this you hold out a cupped hand under their chin and make them spit it out. She feels around her body for a hidden tissue, knowing that there isn’t one.
    George Bush. That’s who it was. Father of George W.
    Already Alexander has eaten the other two pieces of salmon and is inspecting the conveyor again. Just like a man not to notice that she’s going to choke, she thinks, or maybe he’s just being polite.
    ‘You OK?’ he finally asks her.
    While she waves her hand around in a circle to demonstrate that she’s got too much in her mouth to talk, her panic-stricken brain is trying to work out how she can lean over Alexander and grab a napkin without making it completely obvious that she’s going to spit. She’s about to slip down off her stool, and run for the loo, when suddenly she