The Art of Losing by Rebecca Connell

Author:Rebecca Connell [Rebecca Connell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007319985
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2009-08-09T16:00:00+00:00

Dinner is roast chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy and vegetables. The simplicity of the meal notwithstanding, Lydia can find nothing much wrong with it and her compliments to Naomi are more sincere than she had feared they would have to be. On hearing them, Adam and Nicholas share a conspiratorial grimace, Adam’s exaggerated and disgusted as he pokes his fork searchingly in to the food. When Naomi glances at him, he beams ecstatically and echoes Lydia’s own compliments before looking slyly back at Nicholas. Lydia realises that the conceit of Naomi’s cooking being appalling is a piece of father–son bonding that probably dates back years, and which is clung to despite its being out of date and inaccurate. She also sees, as the meal continues, that Naomi is fully aware of it and panders to it, making self-deprecating remarks and suggesting that perhaps they should have gone out for dinner.

Lydia feels that the situation should have made for a tense affair, but in fact the mood of the evening is decidedly relaxed. In an open-collared shirt, light grey spliced with pale pink stripes, Nicholas looks easy and approachable, his earlier formality cast aside. When Adam reels off an anecdote about his eccentric tutor’s latest escapade, he throws his head back and laughs unashamedly. Lydia sees a flash of sharp white teeth, glinting in the dark cavern of his mouth. They are eating in the kitchen diner in front of a crackling log fire, and he rolls up his shirtsleeves as the room heats up, exposing strong forearms sprinkled with dark hairs. Once or twice, Naomi reaches out across the table to smooth her hand down his arm, her pink-painted fingernails affectionately scratching the skin. The bond between them is evident. Naomi looks at her husband with adoring eyes, blinking every so often as if he dazzles her. Nicholas is less demonstrative, but when he rises to help her collect the plates, Lydia sees his hand slip briefly to the wide swell of her bottom. She would not have thought that physical desire would survive much past forty, but it seems the Steiners are the living and contradictory proof.

Naomi brings out a lemon meringue pie for pudding, with a self-conscious fanfare. Adam eats his piece in two minutes and demands seconds, explaining to Lydia that it is a favourite of his. Irrationally, she feels warm and loving at the minor revelation, as if Adam’s fondness for lemon meringue is somehow further evidence of his likeability. She concentrates on her own plate, scraping up the last flakes of pastry. This is hardly the time to be having tender thoughts or making doe eyes at Adam across the table. Nicholas rises and announces that he is going to make some coffee. Naomi is effusive in her praise, something that gives Lydia to understand that this is a relatively infrequent event. Watching him measure coffee granules into the cafetière, Naomi looks rapt and attentive, far more so than such an ordinary activity warrants.

‘Sorry for all the family talk,’ Nicholas says as he carries the cups to the table.

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