The Men in her Life

that Holly looked around to see whether Pic was still standing by the door behind her, or if she had magically jumped in front and sat down. The only difference was that the seated elf had a baby attached to her chest.
    ‘Oh!’ said Holly.
    ‘Hello. I’m Ginger,’ she said, with the same broad smile and in the same upper-class accent.
    ‘You’re twins!’ Holly said in astonishment.
    ‘Sorry, didn’t Charlie tell you?’
    ‘No. Which one of you is Charlie’s wife?’
    ‘Oh God, did you hear that, Pic?’ Ginger stamped her very small foot. ‘He is the absolute limit. I am, although I won’t be much longer if he keeps on forgetting that I have a name...’ She huffed and puffed as much as was possible sitting down breastfeeding, then suddenly focused on Holly and asked, ‘You don’t mind Marks and Spencer, do you? I’ve got a friend who throws away the packets and pretends she’s done it herself, but nobody would eat dinner with us if I told them I’d cooked it.’
    ‘I love Marks and Spencer,’ Holly said, sitting down in a wicker chair, feeling suddenly at home, ‘where’s Charlie?’
    ‘Charlie’s going to be late. He just rang from his mobile. I’m afraid I couldn’t hear where he said he was, and anyway, there’s no way of knowing that someone’s telling the truth, is there? Mobile phones must make having an affair so much easier. “I’m just at the office, darling, switchboard’s closed for the night, but you can always reach me on my mobile...” Ooops,’ Ginger looked suddenly ashamed, ‘sorry, Pic. My sister has just split up with her filthy bastard two-timing husband...’ she explained.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Holly said, nodding at Pic with embarrassment and sympathy.
    ‘... which is why she’s here tonight. Charlie and I never go out now that we’ve got two babies and we were gening so bored with each other, we thought we’d have people round on a Friday evening. This is a kind of trial run. I don’t see why there always have to be equal numbers of men and women, do you?’
    ‘Oh Ginger, do shut up,’ Pic said.
    ‘I’m sorry. I think I’m worse after having a baby,’ Ginger said, ‘other women get post-natal depression and I get post-natal verbal diarrhoea. It’s because I have so little adult conversation, you see. Guy’s very grown-up for his age, but he is only one and three-quarters... my son,’ she explained to Holly.
    ‘Oh. How old is Rose?’ Holly looked at the tiny
    infant in Ginger’s arms.
    ‘Rose is six weeks old. She was born on 1st May, which is why she’s called Rose, although it’s a nice name too, don’t you think? Charlie wanted her to be called Red Rose. Can you imagine, Red Rose Prospect Prince? Poor thing. Anyway, people would call her Red and I’ve had enough trouble explaining all my life why I’m called Ginger when my hair is blond...’
    ‘Nobody who was ginger would call themselves Ginger,’ Holly said.
    ‘Do you hate having ginger hair?’ Ginger asked her sympathetically.
    ‘Yes I do.’
    ‘At least you haven’t got freckles,’ Ginger pronounced, ‘there was a girl at school, wasn’t there, Pic, who was absolutely covered in freckles...’
    ‘Ginger!’ screamed Pic.
    ‘Sorry. Oh look, Rose is asleep. What well-behaved children I have. I’ll just go and put her down. Pic, pour us all some wine.’
    Holly watched as Ginger went inside with her baby. Sometimes, very rarely, you discovered someone you knew instantly was going to be a friend, and Ginger was one of those people.
    ‘Do you have a sister, Holly?’ Pic said, looking for sympathy as they heard Ginger walking upstairs to the nursery.
    ‘Well, yes, I do. Sort of...’
    ‘You say it as if you were surprised...’
    ‘Well, I only met her recently,’ Holly began to explain. She wondered whether all pairs of sisters had a bossy one and a reticent one, as she and Clare, and Ginger and Pic seemed to be.
    When Ginger returned they decided they were all too hungry to wait for Charlie, so they went into the kitchen and sat down at the large rectangular table to eat the first course of poached salmon terrine, and focaccia bread that Pic had warmed in the oven.
    The twins took it in turns to quiz Holly about her recent history.
    ‘How amazing,’ Ginger said, ‘it sounds like a film script. Far better than any of my ideas, but then the truth usually is. I’m always thinking of plots and Charlie says to me, no, that’s just not realistic, and yet I never would