‘It’s Lorna. But she finds it hard to say. She called herself Lolly and it’s stuck. Well, thank you again.’ I hesitated, wondering if I should ask. ‘Are you new to the village?’
She nodded. ‘I’m staying in one of the rooms over the Stag and Pheasant. But I’m looking for lodgings. Something more permanent. At least for a while.’
I wondered if it was her who had enquired about my ad.
‘I might be able to help you there.’ I smiled at her. She smiled back shyly, flashing her small white teeth. This was serendipitous, I thought. We were supposed to meet.
How wrong I was.
12
Saffy
Mum is unusually quiet on the drive to see Gran. She stares out of the window as we pass the village square and the market cross and the café – the Beggars Bowl. Beyond, the church’s spire glints in the bright sunshine. It’s rained overnight and the air has a fresh, newly laundered feel, making everything look brighter and sharper. Is she thinking about Alberto? She hasn’t mentioned him much. I spent most of yesterday afternoon showing her around the village as we reminisced about Gran, Tom discreetly lagging behind with Snowy. Mum instinctively seemed to know her way to the café, and when she walked up the crumbling stone steps of the market cross she said she had a feeling of déjà vu.
‘This,’ she said, pointing to a small building by the church. ‘I’m sure this was a playschool or Sunday school or something.’
I’d booked us in for Sunday lunch at the Stag and Pheasant, knowing she’d love it there as it’s won awards for its food – my mum is the biggest foodie I know. She seemed unusually on edge as we walked around the cobbled streets, and kept asking about how easy it was to access the woods at the back of the cottage. Mum is very rarely on edge. She’s a happy-go-lucky kind of person, always looking for the bright side of a situation. When I asked her what was wrong she’d shaken her head, nearly knocking herself out with her huge earrings, and linked her arm in mine. ‘Nothing, my sweet girl. I love being here with you. Now, show me where that lovely gastro pub is. I could murder some roast beef.’
‘Are you okay?’ I ask now, as we head out of the village and towards the M4.
She turns to me, flashing a dazzling smile. But beneath her expertly applied make-up she looks tired. ‘Of course. Why?’
Because you’re not chatting nineteen to the dozen as usual. ‘You’re just a bit … quieter than usual,’ I say instead, wanting to be diplomatic.
‘I’m wondering about your gran, that’s all. Is she going to be lucid enough for this interview today?’
The sun goes in suddenly and everything is gloomier. ‘I’m worried about that too. I don’t want her to feel frightened but at least they’re doing it at the care home. And it’s good that you’re not leaving until Saturday so you can see Gran again before you go.’
Mum fidgets in her seat and adjusts her top. She’s wearing a tight, bodice-style denim blouse that strains across her chest slightly, white jeans and tan-coloured heeled sandals. Her toenails are freshly painted in fuchsia. I haven’t done mine since Christmas. Not that it matters as I live in trainers, even in this heat. If I ever don sandals they’re my trusty Birkenstocks, which Mum has always deemed downright ugly. ‘I’m thinking of staying on a bit longer.’ She pauses. ‘If you don’t mind?’
I wonder what’s made her decide to lengthen her stay. I’d thought a week would be more than long enough for her. Surely by then she’ll be pining for Alberto and the beach. ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ I say, although that’s not strictly true. Mum’s personality fills the cottage somehow so that everything feels even smaller. She can’t help but take over – cooking for us, even if we’re not hungry, or, just as we’re about to unwind on the sofa, she’ll chivvy me to fetch some clothes that she can put in the machine. I feel guilty when she starts washing up and feel I have to help, even though Tom and I would usually leave it until the next day, preferring to chill out in front of the TV. Tom is great with her, but I could see the strain on his face as she talked at him last night while he was trying to watch The IT Crowd. ‘What about your job?’