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His wife’s brown eyes widened. “Babe, she was like Cruella de Vil! She swore a blue streak at my Shelties in the middle of Alfred Street! All they did was sniff her boots.”
“I’ve always wondered”—Rupert shook his head—“what the heck was Mum doing in Stromness that day? She rarely leaves the house when she’s here in case she rubs shoulders with Orkney’s great unwashed.”
Tarquin snickered and laid his arm across the back of Leia’s chair. “When Fi met Mum, her hair was dyed half-white, half-black for Equinox Ten. She looked a right state!”
Rupert lifted his hand from little Poppy’s back. “Star-drive to maximum power!’” He mimicked the cult sci-fi show’s iconic salute and resumed burping his baby.
“I’ll have to ask Dad if he and Mom watched it,” said Leia. “Sounds right up their alley.”
“Nick got his first acting role on that show.” Tarquin glanced at his brother. “He would’ve been, what? A little older than Ava?”
The five-year-old looked up from her bowl, chomping through her last mouthful of potato.
Rupert nodded. “Leia, Mum made them give Nico a part, whereas Tarq and I were dumped with our nanny du jour at the craft services table. I was four and ate everything I could get my hands on. Good times!”
“I was two and can’t remember a bloody thing. Probably for the best.” Tarquin swirled his wine around his glass.
“I’m sorry, but the way she raised you boys horrifies me,” said Fiona, smoothing Ava’s wild hair. “I could never love one child more than another or pit them against each other. That’s so damaging.”
Leia nodded. The more she learned about Kiki and her questionable parenting, the worse she felt for Tarquin.
Rupert cocked an eyebrow. “You saying we’re damaged goods, Fi?” He punctuated his question with a chuckle.
“No, it’s just—it’s amazing you two don’t have it in for Nick! A lot of siblings would be jealous, resentful.”
Tarquin shook his head. “It’s not Nico’s fault. Any argument I have is with Mum, not him.” He downed a mouthful of red.
“Yeah…” Rupert paused, checking on Poppy before patting her back again. “Whenever Nick was a spoiled showbiz twat, Tarq and I took the piss.”
“Did we ever!” Tarquin snickered. “Nick hated being teased.”
“Still does!” said Rupert. “Even when he was annoying as hell, I still felt a bit sorry for him. Mum hired a second personal assistant with the sole purpose of dragging Nick from audition to audition. I’d be sat in science class thinking, ‘Glad it’s him, not me.’”
“Me, too.” Tarquin glanced at Ava slurping broth from her spoon. “Can you imagine putting this little one through all that? The public exposure, the pressure? Nick got most of Mum’s attention, but at what price? And she wonders why Nico has issues…”
“See!” Fiona’s voice jumped. “You do think it’s damaging! That’s why I told her flat out when Ava was born: don’t even think of playing favorites with our kids.”
Rupert made a face. “Well, there’s fat chance of that happening.”
What does that mean? Leia stilled, her squint shifting between Fiona, Rupert, and Tarquin.
Rupert paused, ensuring Ava was focused on her food before directing his explanation to Leia in hushed tones. “Turns out, she’s as crap a grandma as she is a mother. If it’s not about Kiki, she’s doesn’t really give a—”
Leia’s phone launched into “Stop.” She grimaced and yanked her purse up from the floor. “Sorry…”
“Mummy!” Ava dropped her spoon in her empty bowl. “That song!”
“I know, sweetie!” Fiona stood up, collecting her daughter’s bowl as Leia sent the caller to voicemail. “We sing along to the Spice Girls in the car all the time. Ava can’t get enough!”
“Is it Sarah?” Tarquin leaned in.
“No, it’s a US area code. It can wait.”
“Leia, feel free to call them back,” said Fiona, stacking bowls and plates. “It’ll give me a minute to get dessert ready.”
“Ice cream!” Ava squealed. “Can I have chocolate and apple cwumble?”
“Yes, but only small scoops, Av.” Fiona gave her daughter a knowing grin and picked up Rupert’s dishes. “Leia, we’ve got strawberry, vanilla honeycomb, chocolate, apple crumble, toffee with Orkney fudge…”
