Chapter 2 #2
‘Aren’t we going for lunch in the pub in half an hour?’ Alison queried, checking the clock on the mantelpiece which said twelve thirty.
‘Yes, but I haven’t had any breakfast.’
‘Why haven’t you had any breakfast?’ Alarm bells were ringing already. Mam liked a breakfast. ‘Are you sure you’re managing? Rosie said—’
‘Rosie’s been good as gold, bless her,’ Mam assured her. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, love. Everyone’s falling over themselves to help out: your auntie and uncle, Seb’s lad Sam. Anyway,’ she added dryly, ‘I’ve got your dad to look after me. What could possibly go wrong?’
‘I hope they’ve got the chicken and mushroom pie on,’ Dad said hopefully. ‘I do love a chicken and mushroom pie.’
‘See what I mean?’ Mam beamed at Alison. ‘Never mind him. How was your birthday?’
‘Oh, you know. I was working, so… Thanks for the card and the lovely necklace.’ She pulled gently at the chain around her neck, which had a gold coffee bean attached. ‘Very retro.’
‘Is it? I just saw the coffee bean and thought of you with your passion for that machine of yours.’
Alison stifled a smile. It was hardly a passion. She maybe used it four or five times a month. But she supposed the thought was there.
‘Rosie was so good to pop it all across to yours when you couldn’t make it last weekend. We were so disappointed.’
‘Sorry, Mam. I was working on Sunday, and on Saturday I had to ferry the girls around because Jenna and Joel were both busy.’
‘They work too hard,’ Mam said firmly. ‘And so do you, by the sound of it.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘How are Hallie and Ada? I haven’t seen them for weeks.’
‘Lively,’ Alison said wryly. ‘Too lively for you, especially with your broken arm.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly! We’d love to see more of them. You can bring them here every weekend, you know. We wouldn’t mind at all. Would we, Stan?’
Dad frowned. ‘Would we what?’
‘Mind about having Hallie and Ada here.’
‘Who? Oh! No, of course not. I could take them to the beach. Show them the old Battery. I’m sure they’d be fascinated.’
Alison and her mother exchanged doubtful looks, unable to imagine the twins having any interest at all in the Battery.
It wasn’t only the broken road that littered the beach with bits of broken concrete and rubble, but also the remains of the old Goodfellow Battery, a First World War military fort which, during the Second World War, had been enlarged with a hospital, gun emplacements, searchlights, barracks and officers’ mess, most of which had been washed away by the sea thanks to the appalling coastal erosion.
What remained of it now ironically helped a little in the battle against that erosion, but it attracted attention from curious visitors and history buffs, and Alison had seen quite a few videos online of people who’d ventured inside the broken structure to film for their YouTube channel or social media sites.
Somehow, she doubted that seven-year-old twin girls would be as captivated.
‘You’ll have to bring them next weekend if you’re not working,’ Mam said. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t let your dad anywhere near them. Maybe,’ she added shrewdly, ‘you can leave them here. Have the weekend to yourself for once.’
‘Mam, you’ve got a broken arm!’
‘Oh, so what?’ Her mother glanced down at her plaster-encased arm and sighed.
‘It’s a bit of a nuisance, I must say, but I’m all right really.
Mind you, your dad’s had to fasten the button on my jeans.
I couldn’t manage it with one hand. Speaking of which, Elaine and Christopher are coming to the pub to meet us, along with Rosie, so that’ll be nice, won’t it? ’
Alison frowned. ‘Why did you say, “speaking of which” and go on about Elaine and Christopher when you were talking about the button of your jeans?’
‘Why do you think? You just watch our Elaine’s face when she clocks me wearing jeans again. You know what she thinks about me dressing inappropriately for my age.’ She tutted crossly. ‘Honestly, she’d have me dress like an old woman if she had her way.’
Alison bit her lip. Her mam was eighty-four. What age did she think you became an old woman?
She smiled fondly at her mother, who was nibbling happily on a custard cream.
She still insisted on having her hair coloured every six weeks at the salon in the village of Hilderstead, around eight miles north-west of Kelsea Sands, covering the grey with a lovely ash blonde.
She couldn’t see a thing without her glasses so had stopped wearing make-up as she feared she’d end up looking like Lily Savage if she attempted it, but her skin wasn’t in bad condition since she’d always used moisturiser, and she dressed quite fashionably despite her sister-in-law’s disapproval.
It was strange, but sometimes it seemed her mother was younger than Alison. How had that happened?
Dad groaned. ‘I’m starving. Did you hear my belly rumble then?’ he demanded. There was a beep from his phone, and he beamed in delight. ‘I’ve got a text message!’
‘Aw,’ Mam said fondly. ‘His very first one. I’m so proud.’
‘It’s our Christopher,’ Dad announced. ‘They’re already at the pub and they want us to hurry up because they’re hungry and Rosie’s already gone through two packets of crisps waiting.’
Alison laughed. ‘Sounds like our Rosie. Come on then. To the pub!’
Odd, but as she helped her mam into her coat, Alison suddenly felt a whole lot brighter.