Page 33 of Savage Justice

“Do we have any big sheets of paper, Mummy?” Lucy wonders as we survey our finds, spread out on the polished mahogany table.

“I’ll ask Ruth. We’ll need newspaper, too, or a tablecloth or something.” I shudder at the thought of what a liberal dose of PVA glue will do to that gleaming surface. I bet the table is all of two hundred years old.

Ruth comes up with all that’s needed and more besides. She digs out some rolls of surplus wallpaper which had been tucked away in the attic, some plastic sheeting, a few random rolls of knitting wool, and a bag of old clothes which we can cut up. She and baby Faith are to join us in our great endeavour.

Faith perches on Ruth’s lap, and Noah is on mine. Lucy is in charge of all things technical, in particular the cutting and sticking. We all chip in design ideas. We’re making a sea scene, so the wallpaper has been lightly dyed with a pale green made from some of our leaves. Fishes and other creatures are crafted from cut-out leaves, eyes and fins from bits and pieces we found in the kitchen. Lucy has a fabulous time, the centre of attention for once, and the little ones are contented too.

“I enjoyed that,” Ruth announces when our masterpiece is looking more or less complete. “I’d never have thought that up. Where did you learn this stuff?”

“It’s my job. I’m an artist.”

“Even so, I wouldn’t have thought to make an octopus out of four pairs of old tights.”

I eye the octopus in question. “He is rather splendid,” I agree.

“He needs a crown,” Lucy exclaims. “Then he’ll be the Sea King.” She proceeds to make one out of this morning’s empty yoghurt pot.

“I’ll remember to save things like that in the future,” Ruth says. “For our next project.”

Lucy beams at her. “Yes! We can make a castle next time. With a moat, and horses and a village around it.”

“You’d like Caraksay, then. There’s no moat or horses, but there is a castle. And a village, sort of.” Ruth bounces her baby on her knee. “I think we need to change her nappy. What about Noah?”

“Yes. Probably.” I’ve set up a low table in the corner for this purpose, well stocked with disposable nappies, nappy sacks, and wipes.

Ruth leads the way and sets to work while I explain to Lucy about washing her brushes before we put everything away.

“Can we put our collage on the wall?” she asks.

“Maybe. In our room. Lovely as he is, I can’t somehow see our octopus in pride of place in the Edwardian drawing room.”

“No. He needs to be where everyone can see him. What about—?”

“He can go in the hall. Then everyone will be able to admire him when they come in.”

I glance up from tending to Noah. Jack has entered the library in search of his family, I suppose, and he’s studying our artwork. He takes his daughter from Ruth and kisses the pair of them. “I brought bagels for lunch.”

Ruth beams at him. “My favourite. We’ll be along in a minute. I’ll just help Molly clear away.”

“It’s okay. I can manage…”

“I’ll help Molly.”

I hadn’t noticed Nico. He must have come in behind Jack. He picks up a handful of coloured yarn from the floor and tosses it into our bucket with what’s left of our treasures.

“Can I have bagels, too?” Lucy whoops. “Do you have chocolate spread?” She’s already heading for the door.

“We do. And peanut butter,” Jack replies. “I was tipped off.”

“Lucy, wait. We—”

Too late. She’s already gone.

Ruth holds out her arms for Noah. “I’ll take him if you like, and you two can finish up here. I’ll get those gannets to save you something but I’d better hurry while there’s anything left.”

“There’s no need. I mean, I can…”

“Thanks, Ruth. We won’t be long.” Nico is picking up the spare pebbles and bits of pasta, dropping everything into the bucket. “Molly, can you grab that end?” He takes hold of the unfurled wallpaper, careful not to smudge the expertly crafted design. “We can leave this to dry on the windowsill.”

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