Page 6 of Connectio

He gives me an I-feel-your-pain look, hands back the cutlery, and pries Iz from Fi’s arms.

My ten-month-old niece squirms like a worm and says, “Mum, Mum, Mum.”

Ian blows a raspberry into her chest. “How about Dad, Dad, Dad?”

She cackles, and it’s the loveliest sound I’ve heard all day, maybe ever.

Taking a seat, I ask Mum about her day. “Did you do anything special for your birthday?”

“I’m doing it now, dear.”

“No, I mean today. Did you go to the movies, or out for lunch, or something like that?”

“No. But your father did set up a table in your old bedroom for me so I can do my scrapbooking.”

“Cool!” I fork a roasted potato, pop it into my mouth, and mumble, “Nice job, Dad.”

“What about you, Elizabeth? Did you do anything special today?” Mum asks, her expression hopeful.

I almost groan. “If you mean did I go on a date with a strapping young man, then no.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”

She turns to Dad with a questioning expression.

He nods at her. “She’s right, Maria; it’s all over your face.” Dad dabs her nose with his fork and leaves a smear of gravy.

“Fred!” She wipes it clean then directs her attention back to me. “I didn’t say that. But now that you’ve mentioned the word date, how’s that teacher at your school? Oliver? Is that his name?”

“Yes.” I tip my glass of wine to my lips and all but skol it. “We’re just friends, Mum, and colleagues.”

“Just because you’re colleagues doesn’t mean you can’t—”

“Muuum,” I whine.

“What? I’m just saying it’s not a crime to date someone you work with.” She winks at Dad. “Your father and I worked together for years.”

“I know that, but Oliver and I are just friends.”

She puts down her knife and fork, and I know what’s coming. It’s one of the reasons why I moved out with Carly in the first place.

“Elizabeth, you’re not getting any younger—”

“I’m not even thirty, Mum!”

“You’re twenty-nine.”

“So?”

“So”—she taps her wrist—“time is ticking. You need to put yourself out there before it’s too late.”

“Can we please not have this conversation now?”

“I got a promotion,” Ian blurts, changing the subject.

Mum smiles. “How wonderful.”