Читать книгу Persuading Austen - Brigid Coady - Страница 11

Chapter Four

‘Darling, I knew you wouldn’t forget your family.’ Immy engulfed her in a hug that smelled of exotic flowers that only bloomed at night. Annie knew how much the personalized scent cost down to the nearest ounce. It would’ve been cheaper to import the flowers in on a weekly basis. But it would be pointless asking Immy to change perfumes.

‘And why would Annie forget us?’ Dad said, as he adjusted his tie in the mirror over the mantelpiece.

Honestly, she thought, she wished she could forget. Life would be so much easier.

And more financially stable.

Annie watched as Dad and Imogen got ready to go out to celebrate their new roles.

They had invited Annie.

Eventually.

Even if she hadn’t known she was an afterthought, she did after Immy said, ‘I’m sure Carlo will be able to squeeze an extra chair at the table, but then we might not get the good spot …’ Immy’s forehead creased as much as it was able to.

Throw me a bone why don’t you, Annie thought. One day she was going to call them on all this. She was going to start sailing through life not giving a crap about them. Letting them sink or swim on their own.

Annie drifted off into a dream where she was an orphan. A dream where she knew exactly how much money was in the bank account because she was the only one who used it.

‘Annie.’ Imogen’s voice brought her back to the present with a bang. The world of Christmases spent alone in exotic locations popped like a balloon, catapulting her back into her real life.

‘Yes,’ she said, the taste of a fruity cocktail fading on her tongue.

‘As you’re going to be on this shoot anyway, Daddy and I have decided that it would be nice if you took care of us while we’re on location.’

Took care of them?

Any thoughts Annie had of keeping her personal and professional life separate whilst on this job were shot out of the sky by a Messerschmitt and went twirling in a smoky tailspin to the ground.

‘Look, Immy, I’m going to be working on this shoot. I have two jobs already. Accountant and producer. I’m not there to look after you and Dad.’

Imogen patted Annie’s cheek with her manicured, soft hand. The feeling of the palm against her skin made Annie cringe. Should she tell Immy that her hands were clammy with moisturizer?

Or maybe Annie was cringing because she was yet again being treated as if she meant nothing. As if she were a pet to be patted on the head and then ignored.

‘Whatever, darling; Daddy, we need to go.’

And in a flurry of clicking heels and ciaos, they were gone leaving Annie in a fog of exotic scent and anger.

Why couldn’t she tell them no?

The whisper of her mother’s voice was in her ear: ‘Promise me, Annie. Promise to look after them.’

Annie stood in the hall, her chest heaving with all the unsaid words she wanted to shout. Her throat choked by familial feelings.

This had to stop. She needed to make a stand.

***

‘What the hell?’ Annie poured the rest of the white wine from the bottle into her glass.

Taking a stand meant Annie needed to figure out the family finances. Ever since Mum died, she had been the one who managed everything. At first because Marie was too young, Immy had stuck her face in a pile of drugs and Dad, well he’d just let her.

Which was why Annie was sitting downstairs in the kitchen. She shifted as her bum was going numb on a rickety kitchen chair and her laptop wobbled slightly on the uneven surface of the table.

She took a massive gulp of wine and rubbed her eyes.

There should have been enough in the family’s account for the next mortgage payment. Everyone’s salary went in, the big bills were paid, and then everyone got an allowance in their own account. Annie had come up with the system and with a few tweaks it worked.

But now she was sitting looking at the statement on the bank’s website and it had a very different figure than it should have, a much lower amount than the one her spreadsheet said should be there.

Hadn’t she taken Immy and Dad’s cards away that linked to this account? They weren’t allowed access ever since she found Dad had left the card behind the bar at a pub and charged the whole of a wrap party’s tab to it.

Annie downed the rest of the glass, her lips pulling back as the acidity hit her tongue. She squinted at the website. Slowly she scrolled through the past month’s transactions. Her salary had gone in last Monday and almost immediately it had nearly all gone.

What the …

And there was the culprit: three thousand five hundred and twenty-one pounds ninety-nine spent at … She looked a little closer.

She was going to kill them. Absolutely annihilate them. They had spent what little financial cushion they had at a place called The Kybella Klinic. With shaking hands she typed it into the search engine.

A series of injections to get rid of fat, especially under the chin, she read.

And the worrying thing: she wasn’t sure whether it was Immy or her dad who had wasted the money because neither of them looked any different.

Annie downed the remainder of the wine.

She couldn’t do it anymore. That was her salary. She would get them standing on their own two feet and free of her or die trying.

Annie got up from the table and headed towards the fridge where she knew there was another bottle of wine.

And if she was going to die then it didn’t matter how much wine she drank in the interim, did it?

***

‘You need to rent out the house, tell them to pull their socks up and act like grown-ups. Let you get on with your life.’

The whole restaurant went quiet and Annie could see everyone’s head swivel to watch them. She wanted to crawl under the table in the Italian restaurant. She wondered how her godmother would take being asked to keep her voice down.

Not well.

Crisp and RADA trained, Lily Russell’s voice had filled the Old Vic and had projected to the back of the Olivier. It easily reverberated around the small room that made up the exclusive restaurant. She was a national treasure. Dame Lily Russell, grande dame of English theatre. More importantly she had been Annie’s mother’s best friend at drama school and beyond. She didn’t do quiet.

But she definitely did managing.

‘I know, Auntie Lil.’ Annie sighed. ‘Renting out is the only way we can get out of this mess. But I don’t know how to bring it up. Dad will have a fit, Immy will go into queen bee mode, and Marie, who doesn’t even live there, will get all sentimental about how I’m taking her childhood home from her.’ She smoothed the tablecloth as she said it, looking down so she didn’t see the faces of the other diners she knew were still staring at them.

Annie knew this because she tried to bring up the idea for renting out the house about once a year. She shuddered. And there was that one time she’d suggested selling …

The house was a millstone around their necks – or rather her neck. She should be rejoicing about the new job but she was stuck.

And now with the mortgage in danger of being defaulted on she needed to do something. She couldn’t bury her head in the sand.

That is why she’d called up Auntie Lil. Reinforcements. Or an old-fashioned kick up the backside.

‘You let them bully you,’ Lily said. ‘You have to be firm and stick to your guns. Your mother, God rest her soul, babied them all. Ruined them.’

Annie raised her eyes to stare at the picture of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, which was on the wall behind Lily. Bullied? Well, Annie couldn’t deny it. But they needed her, didn’t they? She was looking after them. Just like she promised.

‘Annie, darling.’ Auntie Lil leaned forward as if she were saying something she didn’t want overheard. Her voice came down a few decibels but could still be heard in the kitchen. ‘While you are looking after the whole family, you can’t move on.’

Annie could feel her eyes fill.

Crap.

‘Now, I know that you aren’t getting any younger. I mean, I was talking to my private doctor the other day and he said that no matter how you young people put things off, your eggs are ageing.’

Let the floor open up and swallow her. How had they gone from family finances to her fertility?

‘How will you settle down and start a family when you are too busy babying William and Imogen?’

Start a family?

What?

Annie felt she had taken a sharp turn into a different conversation.

‘I know you wanted to settle down with that callow actor fellow. That was wrong for you then. Penniless actors are ten a penny. Now … well, you can’t be fussy. And you’ll have to be the breadwinner. Maybe you’ll meet a nice chap on set?’

Annie’s heart clenched.

She had tried to forget the one disastrous meeting between Aunt Lil and Austen. No one had come out of it unscathed.

‘But …’ Annie tried to interrupt. She wasn’t looking to meet anyone and start pushing out babies. She wanted her independence. Her job.

‘Now, no interrupting me – it is for the best. I’ve arranged for Clay Shepherd from Shepherd and Kellynch to come by the house tomorrow at ten to view it. You have to take your father by surprise. It is the only way.’

And also take Annie by surprise as well.

She knew Auntie Lil meant well even if she was taking over. It was nice not to have to always be the grown-up and have someone look after her instead.

Thank goodness for Auntie Lil. Annie wasn’t sure they would’ve survived this long without her.

Although that wasn’t what her dad thought. Lily thoroughly disapproved of him and had told him so in no uncertain terms on numerous occasions. Dad hated her – not that he would ever let that be known. William Elliot couldn’t be seen to be at outs with one of the national treasures of British theatre.

Annie shouldn’t be amused with the way Lily exploited it ruthlessly but how could she not? The acidic exchanges they had about ‘what Molly would’ve wanted’ happened as regularly as clockwork and sometimes were the only way Annie could get Dad to budge.

‘It will be a month or two before we will be off on location, yes? And then when the production is done we’ll have to hope we can find them more work.’

The ‘we’ in Auntie Lil’s speech was something she was trying hard not to think about too hard. Les, in a casting coup, had cast Lily as Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Annie was trying not to think about the one-upmanship that would happen between Lil and Dad on location. Luckily they were both too sensible to brawl in public. Or too vain.

And then when the production is done we’ll have to hope we can find them some more work.

Annie wasn’t sure why everyone seemed to think she was also acting as an agent to the pair of them. They both had professionals who took a percentage of their salaries to find them work. Admittedly most of the work Dad and Immy had over the last few years was through her but there were only so many favours she could call in before people started avoiding her. Immy and Dad weren’t always the best employees. In fact they were poster children for complete horrors.

‘Yes, Aunt Lil,’ she agreed, saving her energy for an argument she could win.

‘Now, I can’t keep chatting all day. I’ve a meeting with that darling Ken Branagh. He always has the best gossip.’

Lily waved for the bill, and the waiter popped up as if from a secret trapdoor in the floor. No one kept Dame Lily Russell waiting.

With a flurry of pound notes and air kisses from the staff they were ushered through the restaurant so that all the patrons could see who had been bellowing out their troubles. When they were outside, Lily pulled Annie into a hug, and then rushed off into a taxi that miraculously appeared. Annie was left ruffled on the pavement with a slick of red lipstick smeared on her cheek. Dealing with Aunt Lil was like being in a film, where everything had been choreographed to ensure that Dame Lily Russell was the star.

It was then that Annie realized nothing had actually changed. She was still going to have to be the one to tell her family they were renting out the house.

***

‘Annie,’ Cassie said as they sat in their local, The Hill Gate, a week later waiting for their friends, Julie and Anna, fellow accountants. ‘Why haven’t you replied to Les’s invite for the pre-production party? I’m being chased by his PA for the fifth time.’

Annie screwed her eyes closed. She wondered if she could get away with sticking her fingers in her ears and singing la la la la.

‘Don’t close your eyes on me,’ Cassie said.

‘I thought we weren’t talking work?’ Annie opened her eyes and reached for her glass.

Cassie glared at her.

Decisions about the party weren’t the only thing she’d been avoiding. It was what she had been doing about the house-renting business too. She could have it on the market tomorrow and tenants by the end of the week. Financial issues gone. Freedom guaranteed.

The problem there, she thought, was telling Dad and Immy.

Why was life so complicated? Why couldn’t she make it all behave like numbers on a work spreadsheet? She took a sip of wine and looked round the pub. Where the hell were Julie and Anna? Surely they should be here by now?

Cassie kicked her under the table.

Annie rolled her eyes. Of course, she hadn’t replied to the invite because then she would actively be putting herself in front of Austen Wentworth.

And eight years ago, Annie had sworn she would never do that again.

Mind you, all she was doing was putting off the inevitable; she was going to have to see him throughout the whole production.

But maybe it would be okay. A treacherous tendril of a thought escaped out of the box she had hidden all her Austen-related feelings in. Maybe he would take one look at her and eight years would fall away. He’d look at her again with his famous green eyes, ones she knew turned from emerald to grey to brown depending on the light, and his mouth would twitch up at the edges. As if he was trying not to laugh.

‘Anne-ticipation, Anne-tediluvian, Annie-matronic.’ He’d have his arms round her waist and he’d swing her from side to side, coming up with more and more inventive additions to her name.

Austen had always said that she needed a bigger name than Anne or even Annie. That only one or two syllables didn’t seem enough to him. He’d started going through the dictionary adding endings to her name. She’d never felt as if she took up space until Austen. He saw her and in his seeing her she grew bigger in the world.

With him she expanded. She felt as if she didn’t have marshmallow for a spine but that she could conquer the world. That she mattered.

Until she didn’t.

She put her glass down and clamped her hands over her ears. Anything to try and stop the chorus of names that he had called her, the way they had of tying her heart in knots again.

This is why she couldn’t go to the party.

What if he just called her Annie?

‘Annie, putting your hands over your ears to block me out isn’t going to help.’ Annie opened her eyes to find Cassie frowning at her.

‘If you’re going to do it then at least use sound-cancelling headphones and we can both keep our illusions. Also we are in a pub…’

‘Sorry,’ Annie said.

How could she explain it to Cassie? She had never told her about Austen. But maybe she could? Not all of it, of course. She didn’t need to see the disbelieving look from Cassie. She liked Cassie.

‘Look. I …’ Just say it, Annie, she thought. Rip off that scab. ‘I kind of knew Austen Wentworth back in the day and, well, we didn’t part on the best terms.’ She rushed it out.

Best of terms? That was putting it politely. Although there had been no screaming – only excruciating silences punctuated by pleading and a slamming door and her heart walking away on the coat tails of another.

‘You never said, you sly dog.’ Cassie smiled. ‘Look, you don’t have to tell me but we’ve all made arses of ourselves over pretty boy actors. A bit of drink and a declaration of love can happen to anyone. You have to get over it. Ten to one, he won’t remember. And if he does I’m sure he’ll be flattered.’

And there it was in a nutshell, Annie thought. No one would ever believe that it was Austen who had said ‘I love you’ first.

‘Yeah,’ Annie sighed, her whole body slumping in the chair like a deflated balloon. ‘Just a little leftover psyche scarring,’ she lied so she could forego the disbelieving look.

‘Well get over it. You are going to the party,’ Cassie said. ‘This is the chance for you to be Anne Elliot, producer. Isn’t this what you wanted? A place in the business for you. Where you get introduced as yourself and not William Elliot’s daughter or Imogen or Marie’s sister? And wear something nice – not the usual “blend into the background” stuff you wear around the family. I’ve seen you dressed up for nights out. You scrub up well, when you want.

‘You need to do this for yourself as much as for the agency. You know that don’t you?’

Cassie looked at her with concern, her curls rioting over her head like a halo.

Of course she knew that. In theory Annie knew exactly what she had to do. And if Cassie could guarantee neither her family nor Austen would be there then she could be the biggest social schmoozer in the history of schmoozing.

‘And you replace that embarrassing memory of Austen with a completely professional one.’ Cassie winked as she waved Julie and Anna over from where they were hovering by the door waiting.

Professional? Ha, Annie thought.

‘Hey,’ Annie said and handed out hugs and kisses.

‘You’ll never guess what we’re working on,’ Cassie said to their newly arrived friends. ‘Pride and Prejudice.’

‘Austen Wentworth? You lucky bitches,’ Julie screamed.

Lucky? Ha, Annie thought again.

How had she let her personal life start to bleed into her professional one this badly?

***

‘No. No. Definitely not. What was I thinking?’ Annie whispered to herself as she went through her wardrobe, clicking the hangers back one by one. Everything formal and work-related was black or a dark grey because it was practical. And it helped her hide in plain sight.

Annie wasn’t sure what Cassie meant when she said she scrubbed up well. She couldn’t remember the last time she had dressed up. Most of her outings were to the pub or gigs. Jeans and band T-shirts worked fine there.

She pulled out a black dress that had been squished near one side of the wardrobe, only one shoulder still on the hanger. She looked at it, frowning. It was scooped low at the back and looked as if it would cling to her curves. She didn’t remember this dress. When had she worn it? Annie never wore anything that showed off her shoulder blades now. The ink was hers alone, even if it was for someone else.

A memory of wearing a pair of high heels and clutching a solid, muscled arm clad in scratchy wool flowed over her.

Oh. Then. When things had been different. Before the tattoo.

She’d bought it because for once she’d wanted to be seen, because her date had called her ‘Annie-matronix’ when he’d seen her come down in it. He’d spun her under his arm and had hugged her from behind as they stood in front of the mirror, his chin resting on her shoulder.

The mark on her shoulder burned, yearning to be complete.

Annie hugged the dress to her chest.

It was also for a person who was at least two sizes smaller than she was now and didn’t have a piece of body art she’d regretted as soon as she’d got it.

Why did she still have the dress in the wardrobe? She was never going to wear it again. But she couldn’t quite stop hugging it. She brought it to her face and sniffed. She didn’t know what she was trying to smell. She didn’t remember what Austen smelled like. Maybe she was trying to capture the past.

No. There was no going back. Annie hesitated to put it back in the wardrobe.

She looked at the overstuffed cupboard. She couldn’t take it all with her when they rented out the house.

She turned and threw the dress onto a chair in the corner.

There. She’d started her charity shop pile.

Now if only she could throw her memories out as easily.

Annie carried on flicking the hangers. She had to have something she could wear that didn’t evoke memories or expose them.

There, that was what she’d wear. It was another black dress but it wasn’t really in the same genus as the previous one. The boat neck skimmed her collarbones, or where they should be. It fell straight to her knees. It was sleeveless, but a cardigan could deal with that, she thought.

Cassie would have to deal with her blending in but she looked business-like. Nothing that would remind Austen of the girl she had been.

Anne-onymous.

***

‘Hi, I’m Anne Elliot, producer,’ she said firmly in the mirror when she’d changed. The dress showed little skin. The pale skin on her arms glowed against it. She’d need a cardigan. She grabbed a black one and looked again.

Annie saw a grim-faced businesswoman looking back at her. A take no prisoners type. She snorted. If only they knew that – for certain people – she would collapse at the slightest confrontation.

‘You are a producer,’ she told her reflection. ‘Not Dad’s daughter or Immy’s sister. You are supposed to be there.’

Annie in the mirror didn’t look convinced.

She could do this.

She had to do this.

The sound of ‘Supercalifragilistic’ came from her phone.

Marie’s ringtone.

What crisis had happened now?

For once, Annie leapt on it as fast as possible, a potential escape route merely a swipe on a screen away. She fumbled with the phone as she stumbled over a pair of shoes she had kicked out of the way when they didn’t go with her dress.

‘Yes.’ Her voice was high and hopeful as she collapsed on the bed.

‘Annie, it is a disaster! Hector has fallen off his scooter and Angelique dialled one one one. They say he needs to be kept awake in case of concussion,’ Marie’s voice blasted at her.

‘Annie doesn’t mind coming over, Charlie – don’t be silly. You don’t mind do you? It’s just I’m supposed to be going to the party. I’m only asking, Charlie. Sheesh, she is my sister. I should know whether it is an imposition or not.’

‘I’ll come over.’ Annie looked at herself in the mirror. Nothing grim about her now.

Cass would understand, wouldn’t she? Family came first.

‘Get off, Charlie, you’re mussing my outfit.’ Annie listened to the scuffle that was happening as Charlie was obviously trying to get Marie’s phone off her.

The phone went dead.

A few seconds later it rang again but this time it was Kanye West’s ‘Gold Digger’.

‘Hello, Charlie.’ She smiled.

‘Look, Annie, she shouldn’t have asked.’ He sounded flustered and this accentuated the slight pomposity that seemed to come into his voice.

‘I don’t mind,’ Annie said feeling as light as candyfloss. ‘I’ll see you there in half an hour.’

There was no point in changing. She shoved another set of clothes and her wash stuff into a canvas tote bag and put on a pair of battered Vans.

Forty minutes later, after an argument with her Addison Lee driver due to her change of destination, she was seeing the back of Marie and Charlie out of the door whilst Charlie was still apologizing to her.

She tried not to grin too much at Hector’s misfortune.

But it was for the best, she thought as she watched a flash of silky brown leg get into the car.

The Musgrove girls would be big hits at the party. Annie was pleased that Louisa had landed the role of Kitty and was taking Henrietta as her plus one.

Was there really only five and six years between them and her? Sometimes it felt like decades, a completely different generation. Had she ever been that glossy? That fingerprint-free?

Annie in the mirror would be very grim next to them. Even if anyone noticed her at all.

‘I’m going to pull Austen. I’m the oldest so it should be me,’ Louisa said loudly from the car, swinging her hair over her shoulder and winking at her sister.

‘Nah, you’re over the hill, you old bag. He’ll want someone with less miles on them,’ Henrietta said.

‘Hey, you’re the one with a boyfriend,’ Louisa said.

‘It’ll be fine; he’s one of my free passes. Robbie and I made a list last Christmas. His is Diana Tomlinson.’ She laughed as she pulled Louisa’s cheek to hers and, phone out, took a selfie.

How did they do that? Annie thought as she watched them in the car and looked over at Marie who was fussing around getting in.

She shuddered.

The only way she and Marie would press cheeks was if they were trying to get through the same small space. And let’s be honest, Annie would let her go first.

And Imogen?

Annie shook her head.

She always looked at the Musgrove girls as if they were an alien species. In fact the whole of the Musgrove family seemed foreign.

It was so different from hers. Sometimes she felt like David Attenborough hiding in the undergrowth, and trying to work out what made them tick.

And then with an almost silent purr the car pulled away, laughter trickling back, until they turned a corner.

They were gone.

Annie stood on the doorstep and stared at the place the red tail-lights had been.

By the end of the night, one of them really could have pulled Austen …

She took a breath, ignoring the way it shuddered.

‘Okay, Hector,’ she said turning back into the house and closing the door. She looked at her heavy-eyed nephew, his cheeks red and raw from crying. ‘A Pixar moment?’ She picked him up gently and carried him through to the living room.

Living in Pixar’s world seemed better and more fulfilling than her reality.

***

‘He is gorgeous,’ Louisa said as she yawned through brunch the next day. ‘And his eyes …’

Henrietta sighed in agreement as she dug into her scrambled eggs.

‘And his really cute friendship with his co-star, what’s his face …’ Henrietta flapped her hand.

‘Harry Harville. You know he plays the sidekick in Ten Peaks. How can you forget, Henry? He was all cuddly with his husband.’ Louisa waved a fork at Annie.

‘I know that. He’s married to Lewis Deakin, the record producer,’ Henrietta butted in and mumbled through a mouthful of egg. ‘I think it is great that Austen isn’t afraid to be so close with an openly gay couple,’ she finished.

Annie tried not to roll her eyes at Henrietta’s gaucheness. Sometimes the Musgrove girls showed their white upper middle class background, as if they looked at anyone who wasn’t like themselves as exhibits in a zoo.

Annie carried on helping herself to some bacon and moved to sit at the table.

Silence reigned for a few moments, until the sound of heavy feet came down the stairs. For someone who was consistently on a diet and didn’t carry a lot of weight, Marie could make an elephant seem light-footed.

‘Austen said he remembered you,’ Marie said as she walked into the kitchen without saying good morning. She picked up a piece of bacon from the pile that their housekeeper had made and left warming on the top of the range.

‘No, I’m on a diet. If I could just have my shake?’ Marie sat down while still chewing on the bacon but waving away the offer of a full English that Angelique was about to make.

‘Yes, Annie. He said he remembered you from Stratford,’ Marie carried on.

The piece of sausage Annie had been in the process of eating got stuck in her throat. She swallowed. The sausage went down but the lump remained.

Her heart raced and the fork she held slipped in her now sweaty hands and fell on her plate.

‘Well, I’m surprised. It was so long ago,’ she whispered.

Please, change the subject, she thought. She could feel the weight of all their gazes on her. Asking questions she couldn’t answer. Well she could but …

‘Oh and Cassie said she’d be calling you today.’

Bugger. Annie had been avoiding looking at her phone. She knew there would be missed calls, texts, and messages sent on whatever social media platform Cassie could think to harangue her via.

Not her most professional moment.

Annie knew she shouldn’t have done it. She should have been the professional she knew she was. Hell, she had been offered the most amazing once-in-a-lifetime job and she’d ran out on her first obligation.

Would Eric Cowell still want her now? Hell, would Cassie be talking to her? A family emergency wasn’t that great of an excuse for missing the party, especially as the rest of the family had managed to be there.

Annie couldn’t blow this. She shouldn’t let some old flame be the reason her job went up in smoke.

‘Austen said he might drop round today. He’s staying around the corner,’ Louisa said dreamily as she pushed a mushroom round her plate with one hand and played around on her phone with the other.

And of course he’d be in Pimlico, Annie thought, because her life was a soap opera full of stupid coincidences. Why the hell couldn’t he hang out in Primrose Hill like any normal self-respecting celebrity?

‘Maybe we should text him to come over for brunch?’ Henrietta bounced in her seat.

They were like a basket full of puppies in their enthusiasm. Annie felt tired watching them. Even after the minimal amount of sleep they’d got the night before they looked box-fresh.

When she’d woken up, Annie’s eyeballs had felt like they were coated in grit even though she’d had seven hours’ sleep. Absently she pushed her glasses further up her nose and put a hand up to sort out her hair, which she knew was squished flat on one side and up into a mohican on the other.

‘Already done, sister dearest. He’ll be here in ten.’ Louisa’s voice rang triumphantly through the kitchen as she brandished her phone like a weapon.