Daughters of Fire. Barbara Erskine

symptoms.’

      Cathy glanced up at her as she laid the sausages out in a grill pan. ‘It sounds very likely. So, what exactly are the symptoms?’

      Viv shrugged. ‘An inability to separate myself from the story, I suppose.’ She kept the description deliberately vague.

      ‘I think you should start a new book as soon as you’ve got this play sorted.’ Cathy put the sausages under the grill. ‘Start incubating the next child.’

      Viv gave wry nod. ‘I thought it would be to do with umbilical cords. It’s all a bit physical, isn’t it.’

      ‘Yes, it is.’ Cathy picked up her own glass. She stood for a moment, thoughtful. ‘Yes, it really is. After all, you’ve been living with that book for, what, two years? It was bound to be a shock to your system to stop writing suddenly. I bet you were longing to finish and get it over and another part of you was dreading it. In fact, I know that’s how you feel. You’ve more or less said so.’

      ‘Have I?’ Viv looked surprised. ‘Well, I was right, I suppose. And I wanted Hugh to be supportive. I thought he would be. I suppose I thought the book would make him acknowledge the fact that I am an authority on my subject.’

      ‘And it’s done the opposite.’ Cathy was watching her over the rim of the glass.

      ‘Quite the opposite. It’s stupid, but you, know, I feel really disappointed now that the anger has worn off a bit.’

      Behind her the doorbell rang. Moments later they heard voices in the hall.

      Viv watched amused as a tall, blonde woman appeared in the doorway followed by her daughter, a small, slim child with her mother’s pale hair and delicate features. There was no sign of Pete. ‘Cathy, you will have to take Tasha to the orthodontist after school tomorrow, and she wants new sandals for the summer. I won’t have time at the end of term before I take her to Sweden, so you must do it. I have written down the makes that are acceptable.’ The woman put a piece of paper down on the worktop.

      ‘Greta, I don’t think you’ve met my friend, Viv.’ Cathy ignored the paper.

      Greta glanced at Viv briefly and nodded. She didn’t smile. ‘I have to go. Don’t let Tasha stay up late as you did last weekend.’ Her accent was very faint, her words precise.

      ‘I thought you might stay and have supper with us, Greta.’ Cathy’s expression was eager. Too eager. Viv suppressed a smile.

      ‘Thank you, but no.’ The glance Greta threw around the kitchen implied incipient botulism at the very best. In a moment she had gone, without goodbyes to her daughter or Pete who were hovering in the hallway, leaving only a faint whiff of expensive scent behind her.

      As the door closed, Cathy and Viv subsided into giggles. ‘What would you have done if she had said yes?’ asked Viv weakly.

      ‘Died of shock.’ Cathy sobered with an effort.

      ‘Does she always behave like that?’

      ‘Always.’

      ‘Wow.’ Viv took another deep swig from her glass. ‘And what is the daughter like?’ It seemed incredible that she had never met Cathy’s almost-stepdaughter and her mother before, but Cathy was usually careful to keep Pete’s family at arm’s length from her friends.

      ‘I’m very fond of her, but she can be a handful, I have to admit.’

      As Viv was about to find out.

      ‘I have become a vegetarian! How could you eat poor dead animals!’ Tasha had taken one look at the table and the pan of sizzling brown sausages and assumed an expression of extreme disgust, so like the one her mother had displayed only minutes before.

      ‘No probs.’ Cathy was unfazed. ‘Eat the mash and vegetables and tomorrow we’ll go and buy some special stuff at Sainsbury’s on the way to the orthodontist. I think you’re quite right, you know. It’s much more healthy to be a veggie.’ She put three sausages on Viv’s plate. ‘Help yourself to onion gravy, Viv. No, sorry, Tash. It’s non-vegetarian.’

      The child was staring at her plate. ‘Mummy thinks potatoes make you fat,’ she said stubbornly.

      ‘Mummy is probably right.’ Cathy shrugged. ‘So, just peas, then?’

      Pete was sitting in silence, watching the scene. Viv thought there was a twinkle in his eye. ‘There are some tomatoes in the fridge, Tash.’

      ‘Dad! You know I hate tomatoes.’ The child was almost in tears.

      ‘You know …’ Viv thought it was time she said something helpful. ‘As those are free-range sausages, and organic – organic, Cathy?’

      ‘Definitely.’ Cathy nodded firmly.

      ‘They come from happy, healthy animals. It is tremendously important to support organic and free-range husbandry. Unless we do, farm animals will go on being treated badly.’

      Tasha frowned. ‘But my friend Susie says –’

      ‘Viv is a university lecturer, Tasha,’ Cathy said quietly. ‘She knows about these things.’

      ‘Have one sausage, Tasha, for the sake of the poor animals.’ Viv caught Cathy’s eye. ‘And you can eat the gravy too. For the same reason.’

      ‘This puts an interesting spin on the range of Celtic history.’ Cathy grinned. ‘You being an expert on free-range and organics and stuff. But then they did do human sacrifice, didn’t they. Were they cannibals, too? If they ate their victims they would obviously have been organic so I’m sure a few pork sausages wouldn’t have been a problem.’

      ‘What?’ Tasha threw down her knife and fork.

      ‘Joke.’ Cathy held up her hands. ‘Got you!’

      ‘Oh yuck!’ Tasha made a face. For a moment, as the plate was put down in front of her she hesitated and Viv watched in amusement to see if Cathy had mishandled the situation fatally. She needn’t have worried. Within seconds the child was tucking into her supper.

      They had all been eating for several minutes, enjoying the food and wine, when Viv noticed that Tasha had thrown several quick curious glances in her direction. Viv, still considering the concept of the organic Celts, met them with a grin but as Tasha stared at her more and more intensely she began to feel uncomfortable. ‘What is it, Tasha. Have I got a bird’s nest in my hair?’ she asked at last.

      Tasha frowned. She looked scared. ‘Who is that woman behind you?’

      Viv froze.

      Cathy and Pete were staring in the direction of the child’s pointing finger.

      ‘What do you mean? What woman?’ Cathy said, puzzled.

      Tasha scowled. ‘There! Behind her.’

      Viv put down her knife and fork. She felt a trickle of icy fear between her shoulder blades.

      ‘There’s no one behind her, Tash, don’t be silly,’ Cathy said sternly.

      ‘There is.’ The child looked confused. ‘I saw!’

      ‘Get on with your food, Tasha,’ Pete put in. ‘Stop making things up. It’s boring.’

      ‘No!’ Viv leaned forward. ‘Tell me. What did you see?’ She put her hand on Tasha’s wrist.

      Tasha pulled her hand away. ‘Nothing!’ She had gone scarlet.

      ‘Please, Tasha.’ Viv said anxiously. ‘Tell me!’

      ‘I didn’t see anything! It was a joke!’ Tasha stood up and ran out of the room.

      ‘Take no notice, Viv,’ Pete said. ‘Don’t let her upset you.’

      ‘No.’ Viv