added in a quiet voice.
Lynn gave me a sharp look, her grey eyes studying my face in a motherly, proprietary way, assessing and checking before she liked what she saw, and her expression relaxed into gentle pride.
‘I’m happy for you.’ She leaned forward and gave me a hug, squeezing me hard, and said with a tiny catch in her voice that probably only Shelley or I would have heard, ‘You’re such a good girl, Jess. You deserve to be happy. The more I see of him, the more I like him.’
I squeezed her back. ‘He makes me happy.’
‘Good, there’s not been enough of that. I worry about you.’ She gave me a kiss on my cheek. ‘You look … happy.’ Then she heaved in a large breath and with a naughty grin asked, ‘I think Joan definitely approves?’
I laughed. ‘She likes him because he spent an hour talking about Test Match Special at Gladys’s wedding.’
Lynn sent Sam’s long blond hair an unsubtle glance and smiled. ‘That’s good then.’
I laughed again. ‘Before she met him she was worried about tattoos; the hair was a relief.’
Lynn shuddered. ‘I wish Shelley hadn’t got that horrible one on her ankle. Honestly, when she’s seventy, it’s going to look ridiculous.’
Much as I love my cousin and do keep most of her confidences, the thing is, I love my aunt to bits and that little line of distress marking her face hurt me. ‘Shall I let you into a secret?’ I paused, not for one moment feeling the least bit guilty about revealing the truth. ‘It’s not a real tattoo; it’s a temporary one that she keeps reapplying. They only last two weeks. She’s winding you up.’
‘Thank fuck for that.’
‘Aunty Lynn!’ Her heartfelt response almost made my eyes pop out of my head; she never used the F word.
‘Well, it’s been so hard not commenting, but it’s hideous. And I do try to be fair-minded and not judgy but…’ She shook her head and then scrunched up her mouth. ‘And talking of which, just watch Victoria. I’m not sure she’s the sort of girl that will give up without a fight.’
‘I think I’d already got that.’
‘Hungry? Mum’s been cooking for days.’ Sam came up behind me and put his arms around my waist, kissing my bare shoulder. ‘Hey, Lynn, how’re you doing?’
She beamed at Sam and held up her glass, the sun shining through the bubbles rising with satisfying continuity. ‘I have Prosecco, I’m with my favourite niece, and I have a gorgeous garden to look at on a beautiful sunny day, and…’ she paused before grinning at him, ‘I don’t have to do any cooking or tidying up.’
Sam joined in my snort of laughter. ‘You love it, Aunty Lynn,’ I said.
‘I know but it’s nice to be entertained by someone else for a change, and Sally really has gone to town.’
The table just inside the French doors was rapidly filling up with bowls and plates, which were being ferried from the kitchen by Sally, another lady who Sam told me was one of his aunts, and Victoria.
‘I’m starving. Come on, someone has to start. Everyone’s being polite,’ said Sam taking my hand and leading me forward to the buffet.
Sally was surveying the table when we entered the room, Victoria at her side, a plate in each hand.
‘If you can put one at each end of the table, that would be perfect. Then we need to get the cheese straws out of the oven.’
‘I can do that. Which plate would you like me to serve them on?’ asked Victoria.
‘I’m thinking the one we bought in Portugal—’
‘Oh yes,’ Victoria shot me a quick look, triumphant with a touch of don’t-forget-who’s-Queen-Bee-here. ‘Wasn’t that man funny? I thought you were going to have to buy an entire place setting. He really wasn’t happy about only selling one.’
Sally laughed. ‘Obviously thought I was made of money, but it was a lovely shop. Have you still got those cute little egg cups you bought?’
‘Yes, they’re on the windowsill. They’re far too nice to use and I’d hate to break one. That was such a wonderful holiday.’ She lifted her head and gave Sally a smile tinged with poignant, brave sadness. Sally put an arm around her, unaware of Sam and me standing in the doorway, and they walked back into the kitchen. Just as they passed through the door, Victoria looked back, her eyes zeroing in on me, a delighted little smirk playing at her lips.
Pass me the sick-bucket. Seriously, how