Perfect Day

That’s the news headlines. More on the hour. Now, if this ain’t love...’
    The dance rhythm of Spiller’s summer hit pounds out of the speakers on the pier. Nell watches as the music filters from Lucy’s ears to her legs making her walk in step to the beat. The single was popular with Lucy’s class at the school Christmas party, where she and her friend Ben were the last two left in the game of musical statues. Ben eventually won the prize of a packet of stamper pens, but being a nice well-brought-up child, he offered Lucy the pink one as a consolation. Nell recognized the shining look of gratitude on Lucy’s face as love.
    ‘Do you notice how he said “this morning’s train crash”, as if there’s one every morning?’ says Frances . ‘It’s beginning to feel like that,’ says Nell.
    ‘Since I’ve been back there’s about one a week. What’s the country coming to, that’s what I want to know?’ says Frances , self-mockingly. ‘That’s another sign of middle age, by the way, when you start saying things like that.’
    ‘Do you find it very different from when you left?’
    ‘Lots more coffee shops,’ says Frances . ‘ Which is weird because everyone seems to be on caffeine-free detox . Better sandwiches, but everyone’s on a diet. No banks, because they’re all restaurants. It’s like the country is defined by consumption and denial.’
    ‘How was it defined before?’ Nell asks.
    ‘Just denial,’ says Frances .
    Lucy turns round.
    ‘Ben has a sun denial in his garden,’ she says. ‘How far is the funfair, do you think?’
    ‘Tell you what, why don’t you count how many steps it takes to get there?’ Nell answers, trying to contain her laughter.
    ‘How many do you think it is?’ Lucy asks.
    ‘Oh, about a thousand,’ Nell guesses.
    ‘How many do you think, Frances ?’
    ‘About two thousand,’ Frances obliges.
    ‘I think about a million!’ says Lucy. ‘OK, I’m starting! You count too, Mummy.’
    ‘I’m counting in my head,’ says Nell.

    ‘One, two, three ...’
    They let her get a little way ahead, then Frances says, ‘You don’t think Alexander’s having an affair, do you?’
    Nell knew that she would ask. Frances always thinks men are having affairs. Often she’s right.
    ‘I think Alexander’s probably too lazy to have an affair,’ she replies.
    ‘Perhaps he’s using up all his energy having one, and there’s none left for you?’
    ‘ Jesus , Frances !’
    ‘Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen!’ Lucy shouts.
    ‘Sorry,’ says Frances .
    ‘I don’t think he’s having an affair because I think he would be nicer to me if he were,’ says Nell, carefully.
    ‘How do you figure that?’
    ‘Well.’ Nell hesitates, making sure Lucy’s out of earshot. ‘Well, at Christmas he came home really late from the school party and he’d definitely been snogging . He had lipstick round his mouth, and those kind of hollow eyes that you get when you’ve been drinking too much, you know?’
    ‘ Snogging ?’ Frances repeats, disbelievingly.
    ‘I’m sure that it wasn’t more than snogging because he caught the last train, and, actually, if it had been more, he would have taken at least one glance in a mirror before coming home, don’t you think?’
    ‘Not that you spend hours coming up with this rational explanation, or anything,’ says Frances .
    ‘I was completely paranoid for a while,’ Nell says. ‘I even went through his jacket pockets. I really hated myself for doing that.’
    ‘But you failed to unearth any evidence of wrongdoing?’
    ‘Just a joint bank account with his mother which he should have closed. He’s so hopeless at dealing with things like that. Anyway. The next day, he had a terrible hangover, but he wasn’t grumpy or moody. He was trying really hard to be nice. He helped me with the tree. He played with Lucy...’
    ‘So?’ Frances says.
    ‘It was like he’d had a glimpse of what it was like out there, and he’d decided not to go there.’
    ‘I don’t get your logic.’
    ‘What I’m saying is if he were having an affair now, I think he’d be nicer because he would be feeling guilty.’
    ‘That’s a bit tortuous.’
    ‘Oh well, maybe he is having an affair,’ Nell says, bowing to Frances ’s greater tenacity in argument.
    ‘You don’t seem bothered about it.’
    ‘I was at Christmas.’
    ‘Did you ask him?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘I didn’t want to nag him. Everyone’s allowed a Christmas snog ,