Page 34 of Be Less Panda

‘Calm down, George,’ Nancy’s mother said, following her husband into the bedroom. ‘Think of your blood pressure.’

She turned to Nancy. ‘Hello, darling. You weren’t expecting us, then?’

’No, it’s a complete surprise. Why have you come all this way?’ Nancy was trying desperately to think of a way to get rid of them quickly. After seeing more of Hans than either of them intended, her resolve to remain friends had faded. Her parents arriving now couldn’t be worse timing.

‘We’ve missed you so much,’ her mother continued. ‘I wrote to say I’d persuaded your father that a spring break in Paris would be lovely and an ideal excuse to make sure you were alright. I’ve booked a table for the three of us at the bistro on the corner.’

A meal out with them. Nancy couldn’t think of anything worse at this precise moment. ‘I never got your letter,’she said.

Nancy’s mother looked at her pleadingly. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve spoilt your plans, but I’m sure your friends will still be having a lovely party after we’ve eaten.’

Nancy didn’t know what to say. She turned to Hans, who by now had wrapped himself up in the white sheet.

‘Your friend can come too.’ Nancy’s mother said, holding her hand out to Hans.

‘Thank you, Mrs Smith,’ he smiled, shaking it.

‘Are you German?’ Nancy’s father growled.

‘Yes, he is.’ Nancy snapped. ‘It’s very cosmopolitan here.’

Nancy’s father stormed out of the room.

‘It’s a kind offer, but I think it would be best if I didn’t join you,’ Hans said.

Nancy reluctantly agreed to leave the party to join her parents for their evening meal and swapped her toga for a more conventional dress. The atmosphere at their table was tense.

Nancy’s father was glaring at the menu. ‘I don’t want anything with garlic in it.’

The waiter was unimpressed. ‘I think you will find that it adds interest and flavour to the dishes, monsieur.’

‘I don’t care. I don’t want it. Awful stuff. And don’t you get ordering it either, Daphne. I don’t want to breathe in your garlic fumes all night.’

Nancy glanced at the waiter, hoping her expression looked suitably apologetic. ‘Stick to the steak, Dad. With pommes frites.’

‘What on earth are those?’ he snapped.

‘Chips,’ she said.

Her father huffed.

The waiter took that as confirmation of his order. ’And you, madame?’ he said, turning to Nancy’s mother.

‘Beouf bourguignon s’il vous plait,’ she said.

Nancy was relieved that at least one of her parents was trying to avoid a diplomatic incident. The waiter nodded approvingly. ‘Avec de l'ail?’

‘Avec beaucoup de l’ail,’ Nancy’s mother said.

The waiter smiled. Nancy suppressed a grin at her mother’s request for lots of garlic. She was glad she wouldn’t be anywhere near her parents’ hotel later.

When the waiter left, her mother reached across the table and took her husband’s hand. ‘You had something you wanted to say to Nancy, didn’t you, darling.’

Nancy’s father scowled back at his wife. She raised her eyebrows.

‘Yes, I suppose I did,’ he said. ‘I may have been a bit harsh when I banned you from coming here. Not that it made any difference.’

Nancy sat silently, waiting to see what was coming next.

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