‘She doesn’t really understand it, but she likes to feel down with the kids,’ he said under his breath.
‘Come on, Maddie, your turn,’ trilled Sophia, waving me over.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, shaking my head. Absolutely not. Not in front of this lot.
‘Go on, darling,’ said Nick. ‘I want to take a photo.’
I sighed, realising that they were only going to go on about it until I caved in. I stood self-consciously in front of the poster, my hands hanging by my sides.
‘Hands on your hips, Maddie,’ instructed Rosamund. ‘Like this!’
She demonstrated what she meant, popping out her hip so sharply that I was worried she was going to do herself an injury. Everyone except Daisy and Peter (who looked as though he didn’t know how to use a mobile phone, let alone take a picture) clicked away. Honestly, this was mortifying.
‘You next, Daisy,’ said Nick, nudging his daughter.
‘No fucking way,’ retorted Daisy, walking off.
‘Daisy! Language!’ Nick called pointlessly after her.
She’d said it now, hadn’t she, and I didn’t imagine ahalf-hearted telling-off from her dad was going to make her think twice about saying it again.
After we’d finished in the museum, I skirted around the periphery of the Gucci boutique, marvelling at the exquisite hair clips and bejewelled clutch bags and the changing room that was like something out ofBridgertonwith its frilly curtain and chaise longue. Nick was fussing over Daisy, who was pouting sulkily until he pointed out a beautiful leather bag to the sales assistant and the two of them followed her over to the till, where Daisy unsurprisingly perked up as Nick got his Amex card out.
I’d heard there was a more reasonably priced section of the shop and headed across to it, wondering whether I could afford to treat myself to a little memento. I picked up a beautiful, hexagonal case housing a pad of Post-it notes with an illustration of a tiny cat in the corner. That would look quite nice on my desk at work, I thought, until I turned it over and saw that it cost one hundred and forty euros. One hundred and forty euros? For a pack of Post-its?! I hurriedly put them down and carried on browsing, slightly shell-shocked by the thought that if Post-its were that much, how much would an A4 notepad be?
Nick made his way over to me. ‘Ready to go?’ he asked.
Everyone was waiting outside – Peter, who looked bored to death, Daisy, who already had her new bag on her shoulder, and Sophia and Rosamund who were each holding a beautiful olive-green Gucci carrier bag (if you could call it that – carrier bag didn’t seem to do it justice).
‘What did you go for?’ I asked.
‘A purse,’ said Sophia smugly. ‘I’ve already got it in black, but they had the most beautiful purple.’
‘And I got a sun hat,’ said Rosamund, opening her bag so that I could peek inside.
‘It’s lovely,’ I said, although in truth, it looked like a slightly more robust version of any generic sun hat you could get from a beach shop in the Costas.
‘Perfect for Saint Tropez this summer,’ she added.
I didn’t know why everything they did had to be so showy. I was glad that Nick hadn’t inherited this particular trait. He never flashed his wealth around, although, thinking about it, hehadintroduced me to a different type of life. We ate in restaurants with the sort of phenomenally expensive wine lists that I’d previously have taken one look at and laughed. And he regularly bought me huge bunches of flowers from Jane Packer, a florist I’d only ever read about in glossy magazines. But it was subtle and Nick’s attitude didn’t bother me in the way that Rosamund’s and Sophia’s did. I thought that what annoyed me was that they weren’t in touch with reality, not at all. I bet they had no concept that most people struggled to pay bills and worked jobs they didn’t love to make the rent and had to shop in Aldi rather than Waitrose. I would bet my life on the fact that Rosamund had never set foot in an Aldi. I thought briefly of Aidan: I’d never met his parents, there hadn’t been time, but I knew, justknew, I wouldn’t have felt like this with them.
‘You didn’t want anything did you, darling?’ Nick asked me.
I shook my head. ‘Not at those prices.’
‘Quality costs, Maddie,’ said Sophia, giving me a sweeping look up and down.
I was seriously beginning to question if I’d ever fit into this family and even whether I’d want to.
Chapter Eight
The lift pinged open and Nick and I stepped out onto our luxurious, carpeted, deathly quiet floor. I yawned.
‘I feel like I need a lie-down in a darkened room,’ I said.
It had suddenly hit me, I think, the long journey and then the energy it took to be constantly upbeat/interesting/not offended when I was around Nick’s family.
‘Is it all getting a bit much for you?’ asked Nick, looking sheepish. ‘I know my family can be hard work, but they mean well.’