Leading her around each room she told her about Claire going off to Africa and her mum ooh’d and aah’d and agreed that the flat was clean and cosy.
“Not as nice as your apartment with Tim, though,” she said following her back into the kitchen. “Ah, Katie, is there no way you can patch things up with him? I mean, he’s nice to look at, has a good job, rich parents, and that lovely apartment. You know, nice young men like Tim don’t grow on trees.”
Katie sighed and beckoned her to sit at the table. “No, Mum, because it turned out that he wasn’t so nice in the end. I mean, he certainly wasn’t the guy I fell in love with that’s for sure.”
Her mum tutted and shook her head slowly. “I just can’t understand it. I mean, your father wasn’t a saint by any means but he was a good man and that never changed from the day I met him to the day we lost him.”
At the mention of her father Katie felt the usual sadness settle upon her. For a couple of years after he’d died the pain and grief had felt raw but since then she’d sort of got used to him not being around and the missing him had settled into a calm melancholy. She knew she wouldn’t, and never wanted to, forget him but hated to see the pain that still lingered in her mum’s eyes when they talked about him.
The small kitchen window was running with condensation from steam billowing up from the pans and she opened it. “I know,” Katie said placing a pot of chicken casserole into the middle of the table. “But it turns out that Tim wasn’t anything like dad after all.”
She lifted a tray of crunchy roast potatoes from the oven and then strained fresh green beans and broccoli through a colander heaping them into serving dishes.
“Katie, love, this chicken is delicious and it’s so tender,” she said. “And the vegetables are just how I like them. Not too soft and with a bit of a bite.”
She smiled at her mum’s comments and felt calm and uplifted. She wondered why cooking made her feel like this and in some cases if it was an act of love? She’d discussed it with Tim one night and he’d thought it was because she liked to be in control of the food and people’s diets. But she’d refuted this and told him it was because it gave her the chance to care for the people she loved. And she certainly loved her mum dearly. Since her dad had died she seemed to have heaped all her love and attention onto her mum which according to a book Lisa had read was a normal reaction to grief.
They ate the rest of the meal quietly chatting about her two brothers, the firm of decorators who were coming to paint the outside of her house and about her trip to Shrewsbury. In fact, she tried to talk about every topic she could think of rather than Tim and by the time her mum was leaving she thought she’d succeeded but in the hall she stopped to look at the flowers Katie had arranged in a vase.
“Aren’t these gorgeous, just look at those roses,” she exclaimed. “Who are they from?”
Katie sighed. “Lynne and Graham. They arrived at work this morning.”
“Oh my. Wasn’t that kind? I hope you’ve thanked them properly. You never know, they might be able to talk some sense into him.”
Katie took a deep breath in exasperation. “Yes, I’ve thanked them, Mum, and if I couldn’t talk any sense into Tim I don’t think anyone can,” she snapped, and then feeling guilty put her arm along her shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you to the bingo on time.”
“Well, I’m not going to give up hope,” she said. “Because no matter what you say, Katie, I’m sure he was the right one for you…”
“Yes, Mum,” she muttered following her to the Micra.
Climbing into the car her mum said, “And Katie, if your father was here he’d say the same thing himself.”
“Yes, Mum,” she answered, starting the car and looking over her shoulder before pulling off down the road.
“He chose your name, you know,” she said with a dreamy expression on her face and Katie knew she was thinking of her husband in their early days together. “I’d chosen the names for Jack and Michael and he’d said it was his turn to choose the