Posh Frocks & Peacocks - Tracie Podger Page 0,15

She then placed her hand on the side of my face. “Today is going to be a wonderful day. The sun is shining, it’s going to stay dry all day, and we have a wedding in the garden!” She clapped her hands and rushed out of the room.

I’d just taken a breath and a sip of tea before Joe burst in. “We have no hot—”

“I know,” I said.

“How are we going to get ready?” he asked, mortified and with wide eyes.

“Wash from the sink, I guess. It’s not the end of the world, Joe, and a regular occurrence up here.”

He pouted. “I wanted to style your hair.”

“I’m perfectly able to style my own hair. Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to get up, and I have no clothes on under this duvet.”

“Oh, get you,” he said, laughing and then leaving the room. Before he’d managed to shut the door my mother bustled in.

“We have—”

“I know!” I sighed and then rolled my eyes so hard they ached.

“Don’t be petulant. I was only telling you. Now, what is the plan for this morning?” she asked, as she sat on the bed and smiled at me.

“I’m going to get up, have a wash, something to eat, then relax for an hour or so before I get ready. You can bring my clothes in here if you want. Ronan is using another room to dress in.”

Giving my mother something to do was the only way I could get her out of my bedroom and, even though she was my mother, I wasn’t about to stand naked in front of her. She had a habit of commenting on my untidy bits or my little paunch going on there. She thought she was doing me a good turn to point out my flaws. I wasn’t so keen on her good turns.

While she was out of the room, I dashed to the bathroom for a strip wash. I was wrapped in a robe and back in the bedroom when she returned.

“I had to hide so Ronan didn’t see your dress,” she said, puffing as if she’d run around the house.

“Aw, we’re not that worried about all that stuff,” I said, taking it from her and hanging it on the front of the wardrobe.

“You should be, it’s nice to follow tradition,” she mumbled, smoothing down the front of the material.

“I did that once before, look where it got me,” I replied, removing her hand from the fabric so she didn’t keep stroking it.

“Do you speak with him?”

I was surprised by her question. “No, not since the last solicitor’s meeting.”

“That’s a shame, you have a lot of history together.”

I stared at her. I frowned, waiting to see if she would retract her comment. It occurred to me we hadn’t been in each other’s company for such a long time, I’d forgotten what it was that kept me from visiting as often as I was invited. My mother was often inappropriate but not in her swinging ways. She had always sided with Harry. When I told her about his coming out, I remember her telling me I should just stick with him. Let him have his flings but keep a decent front for the sake of his work. Her words had stung.

“Surely you’d rather keep this lifestyle than be single?” she’d said.

I decided not to comment and change the subject.

Dragging myself from the memory I said, “If you’re up for making a cup of tea and some toasted buns, I’d love one.” I was hoping to have her leave me alone for a little while.

She smiled, oblivious to how her comment had affected me. “Of course, darling. I’ll rustle up breakfast. You come down when you’re ready.”

I sat heavily on the bed and tears filled my eyes but I brushed them away. I wasn’t doing that. I wasn’t going to let my emotions turn the slightest thing negative.

“Bloody menopause,” I said, and then laughed. I reached over and picked up the little blue applicator on the bedside cabinet. It was meant to be used that evening but it was going in the drawer for another time. “And you’re not doing your job, either.”

“Who are you talking you?” Maggie asked, as she walked into the room.

“No one. Myself. God knows,” I replied. “I sent my mother downstairs, she was starting to irritate me.”

“Yes, thank you. That’s why I’ve come up here,” she replied with a laugh. She handed me another cup of tea and we both sat on the bed.