have come straight from the pages of a children’s storybook. He couldn’t change the subject on that one for ever; I would get the story out of him one day.
‘He plays cricket.’
Well, blow me. I wish I’d said that first. Mum actually smiled and put the cups back down on the patio table.
‘Does he now? Batter or bowler?’
My batting hero.
‘He’s a batter,’ I said, not having a clue.
‘And where does he play?’
Oh God. Twenty questions, but at least I could answer that one. ‘At Meadows Way in Tring.’
‘For the firsts? They play to a very high standard there. Gosh, he must be good. What’s his name?’
‘Sam. Sam Weaverham. He got a century yesterday,’ I said, lapping up this unexpected enthusiasm. I’d better encourage Sam to wear his cricket whites and pads when he came to visit. In that get up he could probably carry off a couple of tattoos and even a piercing or two.
‘Did he now? Well, I look forward to meeting him.’ With her free hand, she twisted her wrist to look at her watch, a tiny frown marring her forehead.
With the cups in her hand, she stood there waiting for a minute, looking at me expectantly.
Clearly, our sojourn in the garden was over and when I stood up she inclined her head with subtle sheepdog-herding signals, as if to head me towards the kitchen.
I followed her into the kitchen where she unloaded the crockery straight into the dishwasher, her head tilted my way as she said, ‘I assume you’re going to your aunt’s for dinner.’
‘I’m going to pop in to see Shelley. I haven’t seen her this week and Bel’s coming over. I haven’t seen her for weeks.’ Playing the my cousin is also my best friend card sweetened the bitter pill that I was close to Aunty Lynn.
‘Ah, Bel. How is she? How are the wedding plans coming along?’ Mum’s face softened. Bel had achieved approved status very early on. I think it was because she had hair that behaved itself and never messed about with her school uniform. Her skirt was always regulation length and she never rolled the sleeves of her shirt above the elbows – and when I came back to live with Mum, her friendship had been the anchor that kept me here through difficult teenager years when Mum had been fiercely overprotective at the same time as emotionally distant.
‘Good, I think. I haven’t seen her for a while. She’s been away for the last month – an audit job in York.’
‘Yes. Those professional jobs do give you opportunities to travel. Give her my best, won’t you?’ This was said with a saintly smile. I noted that nothing of the sort was directed Shelley’s way. ‘And look at the time.’ She looked at her watch again. Come to think of it, she’d been looking at her watch a lot during my whole visit, and now she was doing the subliminal sheepdog thing again and somehow I was being shepherded out and down the hall. ‘You’d better get moving. You don’t want to get held up in traffic.’
Hello? It was Sunday. Four o’clock. I had a three-mile trip up the bypass. The trip would take me ten minutes at most.
For the first time during one of my visits, I wasn’t desperate to get away. Contrarily, I felt a bit put out and unwanted. ‘Got something planned?’ I asked as we reached the front door, and to my astonishment she blushed.
‘Douglas is popping round. Just for a gin and tonic. He bought some new gin. Thought I might like to try it.’
‘That’s nice,’ I said, my tone deliberately as bland as bland could be. I might as well have saved my breath.
‘It’s just a gin and tonic, Jessica.’
Well, that told me, in no uncertain tones.
Chapter Sixteen
‘She’s got it baaad,’ crowed Shelley when I bounced up from my chair at the sound of the doorbell. Sam was early – assuming it was him – but I’d committed now to answering the door. I wasn’t expecting him for another hour.
‘Look how fast she’s moving that skinny little ass.’ Shel turned to me and prodded my hip. ‘Did I tell you I hate you?’
‘Yes, numerous times.’ I pulled a face at her, batting her hand away, much to the indulgent amusement of Lynn and Richard as I went to answer the front door.
‘Shelley, you should be nicer to your cousin.’ Aunty Lynn waved a cold sausage at Shelley before taking a big bite.
‘You’re right, Mum. It’s you