Page 18 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘Really?’ said Annie.
‘I think he’s trying to be a gracious loser,’ said Alex.
‘I see,’ said Annie, instantly suspicious.
‘How on earth did you find this place?’ asked Alex. ‘It’s in the middle of bloody nowhere.’
‘Don’t you like it?’ asked Annie, turning away from the wind and pulling her hair into a ponytail.
‘He’s craggy because there were no independent cafes open for him to get an artisan coffee,’ Peter mocked.
‘You can’t walk twenty paces in Soho without finding somewhere that serves coffee at any time of the day,’ said Alex.
‘We managed to find a Costa open in Dover,’ said Peter. ‘I thought Alex was going to weep with relief.’
‘I can’t deal with the morning without at least a double-shot macchiato inside me,’ said Alex. ‘And since someone had taken the coffee machine’ – Alex looked pointedly from Annie to the sleek black and silver machine on the back seat of her car – ‘I had to make do with some instant shite that Dad found in the back of the cupboard.’
Peter raised his eyebrows. ‘Looks like someone needs another coffee,’ he said.
‘When did my babies become such big-city sophisticates?’ Annie asked. ‘Whatever happened to the little boys who liked to dance around the lounge to “Livin’ la Vida Loca” in their Ninja Turtle underpants?’
‘Alex still does,’ said Peter.
‘At least I wear underwear,’ said Alex.
‘Okay,’ said Annie. ‘Let’s get this stuff up to the flat and I’ll make you both some coffee. I haven’t been to the shops yet, so I’ve got no food to offer you, I’m afraid.’
‘We bought almond croissants,’ said Peter.
‘Perfect,’ said Annie.
‘Woah!’ Peter exclaimed as one by one they huffed and puffed into the flat laden with boxes and bags. The lounge seemed even smaller with the twins stood in it. ‘That view is awesome,’ Peter continued.
‘Oh my God, Mum,’ Alex called from the kitchen. ‘This kitchen is seriously retro-chic.’
Peter joined him, setting down the coffee machine and plugging it in, while Annie checked the cupboards for mugs.
‘Or is it that it hasn’t been decorated since the seventies?’ asked Peter.
‘You have very little appreciation of style,’ said Alex.
‘I disagree,’ said Peter. ‘My style is just different to yours.’
‘Hobo-chic?’ said Alex.
‘Unpretentious,’ said Peter. ‘Just because my flat isn’t a carbon copy ofHouse Beautifulmagazine...’
‘I’m surprised you’ve even heard ofHouse Beautiful,’ said Alex.
‘I’ve seen it on your poncy velvet coffee table,’ said Peter.
‘That’s a footstool, you neanderthal,’ said Alex.
‘You both have lovely taste,’ said Annie, handing each of them a mug of coffee. ‘Life would be very dull if we were all the same.’
‘That’s been your stock response to every argument since we were born,’ said Peter, smiling. Alex grinned and took a swig of his coffee.
‘And there is still barely a situation it doesn’t apply to,’ said Annie. ‘Now, drink up and help Mummy move into her new bachelorette pad.’
