V is on the phone to Jody. I am making pesto and covertly lugging in nearby.
I can tell that the conversation is progressing along traditional lines: V talks about herself momentarily, then Jody launches another lengthy assault on the north face of Mount Self-Absorbed. During this second phase of the chat, V pulls a series of faces that unsubtly allude to a certain fatigue.
Suddenly, V's occasional grunts are replaced by a reply containing a note of panic.
"Ah. What day would that be?"
"Ahhh, sorry. No can do."
"No. Definitely not."
V is pacing around, quickly, in a very small circle, running one hand through her hair in slightly demented fashion. She's thinking on her feet.
"Unfortunately we're going away that weekend. I know I didn't say anything..."
V looks over at me. A sly grin spreads across her face.
"That's because it's a surprise trip for you know who."
I hear Jody yelp. V looks down at a travel supplement on the kitchen table.
"Split. Well, he's been dropping hints about Croatia for ages. I thought I'd treat him!"
"It is a shame, isn't it, but it's all booked. Of course I'll send a postcard. Okay. Byeee."
V puts down the phone and starts flicking rapidly through the pages of the supplement.
"What was all that about?" I ask.
"We're going to Split," she replies flatly, without looking up.
For a second I try to work out what I've done wrong. Then the penny drops.
"You mean Split in Yugoslavia or wherever?"
"Croatia."
Given that all this has been arranged with no regard for the consulation process, I feel that a little light sarcasm is in order.
"Would it be permissible for me to ask when we are going to Croatia? And for that matter, why?"
"We're going next weekend," replies V, stabbing a number into the phone. "And you can drop the attitude. Unless, that is, you would rather dress up as a clown and entertain Molly and a village hall full of one-year-old babies. Not to mention Ian and Jody's special new rural mates from birthing class."
I ditch the pesto and get the atlas out.
Comments