More Titles ~ 8

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Chapter Eight

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Anna Margaret walked back. This time when she passed the supermarket, she actually had her hands free. This morning she had been carrying Alex in his carrier, but now she was pushing the pram and could stop to buy some food.

Someone had been out to buy something yesterday or Isabelle had brought everything from home, because they had had something to eat, but now she considered buying some of the extras such as fruit. If they needed anything else, she would see that later. Nobody had communicated anything about food so far. She had been flexible like this until she had moved in with Frederick, who was a lot more organised, but now she could do both: plan and wait.

She ran into three of the children in the supermarket. They greeted her enthusiastically and looked quite excited; normally they did not get to do these things. When she looked into their trolley, she found she had to give them a little shopping lesson. The fridge in the villa was normal, meaning not big enough to store three days’ worth of food for so many people.

“All right, who is doing the cooking tonight, what are we eating and who threw these things in the trolley?”

It turned out that Florian had the money, Murielle had a sort of menu and Julian was just throwing random things in.

“This is not working,” Anna Margaret decided. “Get only things that we really need. Have you seen the fridge in the house? Yes, you have seen the fridge. You have taken things from it because boys your age eat all day. Do you realise that it’s the only fridge? So let’s make this part of the trolley for things that we could prepare right away and that don’t need to be stored in the fridge. And this part is for everything that needs to be stored cold for tomorrow morning and later. Put these back,” she said as she handed Julian three ice cream containers.

She looked at the meat. It was a lot. “Does the house have a barbecue?”

Murielle looked clueless. “I don’t know. Why wouldn’t it?”

“You chose barbecue meat.”

“I thought that would be fun.”

“Yes, well.” She looked at the pile of packages. “Phone your father and ask if there’s a barbecue at the house.”

“How would he know?”

“He rented it and he’s the only normal person in this family, so if anyone knows, it’s him.” She sorted through the rest of the items. Biscuits. If the children carried them themselves, she would leave it to Philip and Isabelle to say something about those. “Move aside, we’re blocking the aisle,” she said automatically when other shoppers appeared in her peripheral vision.

She had parked Alex so they could pass, but of course they wanted something from right behind him. She excused herself in French and moved the pram. “Murielle, are you phoning your father yet?”

“Dad, is there a barbecue at the house?” Mariel asked over the phone. “We wanted to barbecue, but someone said the house might not have one. Wouldn’t that be strange? If there’s no barbecue we’re going to have to put all the meat back. Who? Oh, Anna Margaret.” She listened for a while. “He’s going to have a look,” she said to Anna Margaret.

The boys were getting impatient. They did not like to stand around for so long.

“Fruit?” Anna Margaret suggested to them. “Always good.”

Alex sensed their impatience. He too did not like it when nothing was happening. Not in the least because he could not really see anything but bright supermarket lights above him.

“Dad says maybe to add a disposable. What’s that?” Murielle reported.

Anna Margaret lifted Alex out of the pram when he began to make dissatisfied noises. “I’ll walk around for a disposable. Why don’t you get some salads or something?”

“Oh yes, Dad said he would send Aurelie and Charlotte over?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned. “Why?”

“Because they really wanted to come and Mum wouldn’t let them go unsupervised, but now that you’re here, it’s fine. Apparently.” Murielle walked down the aisle with the trolley.

It was a pity that she could not use her phone because she was pushing the pram with one hand and holding Alex with the other, but she would really have liked to phone Philip to ask why on earth he thought she did not already have her hands full. And why people at home still thought she had time to meet all kinds of important foreigners.

Anna Margaret found the disposable barbecues before anyone returned to her with fruits or salads. She headed for the fruits and vegetables section and found that fridge management was again necessary.

To do Murielle credit, she had got ingredients for a self-made salad and not a pre-made one, but by the looks of it, it was enough for two days at least. It might work in the fridge if they ate all the meat right away, but the boys had got strawberries and grapes and berries and a watermelon, so all of that together might not.

And then two more of these agents of chaos were coming over. They would be here in less than ten minutes. “Some bread?” she suggested as she removed one container with grapes from the trolley to trade them for apples.

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The youngest two, fourteen and seventeen, were bouncing around in excitement. Anna Margaret had not been able to wrap up the shopping before they got here. Somehow she had thought that cruel. She was happy to see Philip was accompanying his daughters, though.

Philip did not seem surprised at the insane amount of food that was already in the trolley. He looked as if it was normal – which it might be for a family of seven.

“Alex is going to learn this a lot younger,” she said to him. “Why did you bring them as well?” She looked at the two youngest girls.

“We trust you.”

“You’re going to let me handle it and you’ll just follow us around?”

“We trust you.”

“Can I give you orders?”

“Yes.”

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After they had bought enough for dinner and returned to the villa, they relaxed in the living room. In true young adult style the children dropped the shopping bags off in the kitchen and lay on the couch to catch up with social media. They showed it to Anna Margaret, who thought she had done enough as well.

@Watcher88
So I’m watching German TV and they’re actually saying Frederick is GOOD? Amazing how ZDF knows everything about him and RTA doesn’t?

@YeahYeah
Our media: “We couldn’t change the schedule.”
German TV: Knows the baby’s name, where he was born, and what Frederick’s split time was at 1000m.
What exactly are we paying our license fees for??

@ZDFFanatic
The way German commentators talked about Frederick—so much knowledge and genuine respect. Meanwhile our own channels pretended rowing didn’t exist today. #WakeUpRTA

@TabloidReader
I feel like our tabloids should write an article on how their marriage failed because she was not in the boat with him.

They had a giggle over the last one.

“Shouldn’t someone unpack the shopping, though?” she tried. “Or set up the barbecue?”

“This is more fun. And I’ve got to do Instagram,” Florian realised. “I’ve got some photos of today.”

“Someone saw us at the supermarket,” said Julian. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad? Why are people reporting on us now? They don’t do that at home, do they? Because I never noticed.”

“Are you ever in a supermarket?” asked Anna Margaret. “People comment on things they’re not expecting. Or maybe they’re trying to prove that I am indeed married to Frederick. If I wasn’t married, I wouldn’t be shopping with you.”

But she was wondering how this would affect the coming days. Would there be people trying to spot them in the supermarket next time? Or even the next time at the rowing stadium? She would not mind other tourists and spectators, but the media would be intrusive.

She had watched Florian retreat to his bedroom, Murielle take up his spot on the couch immediately and Julian still engrossed in checking social media. She checked the news herself. There was a brief article on Frederick winning his heat, but it was nothing more than the bare facts. No praise, no predictions, only a mention of the quarter finals in two days. Not even that the race could be watched and at what time. She raised her eyebrows and grimaced.

The spokesmen had been busy, she also noticed, but their words had not trickled down the journalistic hierarchy yet.

Statement from the Office of the Prime Minister
In response to recent inquiries:
The Prime Minister did not and does not have authority to determine or influence the editorial decisions of national broadcasters, including event coverage schedules. Decisions regarding Olympic programming rest solely with the broadcasters.
The Prime Minister attended the rowing event as a private individual. She purchased her own ticket and was seated among the general public. As previously stated, this is a personal trip, and no official duties are being carried out during her time in Paris.
We kindly remind all media outlets to distinguish between official responsibilities and private family time.

Statement from the Minister for Sport
I have spoken with RTA regarding the absence of rowing coverage during the Olympic heats. They have assured me that this decision was based on long-established broadcast plans focused on disciplines with traditionally higher domestic viewership. However, I have made it clear that the public has a strong interest in seeing all of our athletes represented, especially when they are competing—and winning—on the world stage.
I’ve asked them to explore how they can be more flexible in the coming days. Our Olympic competitors deserve recognition, and I encourage RTA to reflect that in their upcoming coverage.
Finally, I want to add that both the Prime Minister and I are part of the official Olympic group chat used to share updates on competitions that we cannot personally attend. This direct line of communication helps us stay informed in real-time, although this communication is not visible to the media and was not used in previous Games.

Then she got up to see if anyone was seeing to dinner. Philip was in the kitchen. He could not fit everything into the fridge. “I told them so,” she said. “Who’s in charge of dinner?” Yesterday dinner had suddenly been ready after she had been nursing Alex and unpacking. She could not recall any chaos surrounding it, but of course the children had all been away then.

“Murielle?” he called.

She appeared with a sigh.

“You wanted to cook.”

“I don’t know how barbecues work.”

“You can make a salad,” said Anna Margaret, marvelling at the idea that someone who had no clue how barbecues worked could have come up with the plan to use them for dinner. “Your father will do the barbecue. Where’s your mother?”

“Napping.”

“I’d like to nap too.”

“Go,” said Philip. “We’ll call you.”