Big f*ck off from the family. Beloved tells me that lunch is to be served at one. Its 12.15 and Apple is helping himself to cereal and toast. He won’t be hungry at one. Beloved says he’s not hungry. And I’m not hungry. I attempt to make this point but am shouted down. Beloved puts his hand up in my face and says loudly, ‘Everything I say is wrong. I’m just trying to get things organised.’ He slams the door and leaves. I turn to Apple and ask, ‘Would you like to eat at one?’ ‘Just shut up. Stop talking. Don’t you get it, you just go on and on.’ I leave the room and him with his head in the cupboard getting food.
Owl has gone. No tears on the platform. He’s off to Paris. He’s happy. All good. It’ll be his first time travelling across London on his own. He’s almost 20 and utterly impractical. He is like a little chick when it comes to organisation. But it is high time he learns. He has plenty of time to get lost.
Ma arrives soon. Last night she told me things had been difficult between her and Circe.