Chapter 32
‘I’ll bet you feel so much better now that plaster cast’s off, Auntie Cherry,’ Rosie said as they slipped into their seats at a table in the Driftwood cafe. ‘It must have been a right pain for you.’
Alison watched, smiling, as her mam stretched out her arm, examining it. ‘Oh, it wasn’t that bad, and I’m amphibious now, so that’s a good thing.’
‘I think you mean ambidextrous, Mam,’ she said, shaking her head affectionately. ‘Unless you’re turning into a frog or something.’
‘Well, whatever, I can do all sorts with my left hand now, which I think will be very useful for the future. You never know when you’re going to need skills like that. If I were you two, I’d start practising now.’
‘I’ll take that on board,’ Rosie said, giving Alison an amused glance. Her expression changed as Alison quickly turned over her mobile phone, and she sat back in her chair, arms folded. ‘Oh yes? Something you don’t want us to see?’
Alison blushed. ‘Don’t be daft.’ She gave Rosie a subtle kick under the table, but Rosie didn’t do subtle.
‘Ow!’ She reached down and made a huge song and dance about rubbing her leg. ‘What did you do that for?’
‘I think,’ Mam said, ‘that she’s trying to tell you not to open your big mouth in front of me.’
‘Mam…’ Alison hardly knew where to look. ‘It’s not that, honestly. It’s just—’
‘Hello, ladies. Nice to see you all in here.’ Mrs Miller arrived at the table, beaming at the three of them. ‘Aw, Cherry. You’ve got your cast off! Smashing. Bet that’s a relief.’
‘Don’t get her started,’ Alison advised. ‘How are you, Mrs Miller? No Emmy today?’
‘I’m right as rain, love, and our Emmy’s just through there in the shop dealing with some customers.’ She nodded at the archway. ‘What can I get you all?’
‘Just three teas, please,’ Mam said.
‘By, I’ll never make my fortune with you three, will I?’
‘I thought you’d be busier now,’ Rosie said, ‘what with Tide’s Reach being open again and the birdwatchers and hikers out and about.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. You should have been here earlier.
Couldn’t move in here for people wanting cooked breakfasts, and they’d no sooner gone than the lunchtime crowd arrived.
Trouble is, I don’t have enough tables. I could do to expand through there, but that would mean losing the shop, and we need a shop, don’t we?
God knows, we’ve lost everything else here.
’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, that’s a worry for another day. Three teas coming right up.’
The moment she’d moved away, Alison’s mother leaned forward, her face bright with delight. ‘So, this text message. Is it Ian? I mean, Mac? Go on, you can tell me. I promise I won’t say a word to your father. We all know how he loves to gossip.’
Dad? He’s the last one to gossip. It’s you I’m worried about.
Alison glanced around the cafe then leaned forward, her arms folded on the table. ‘It’s nothing much. He’s invited me round for tea tomorrow night, that’s all.’
Rosie wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, is that it? Well, nothing new about that. He’s always inviting you round for tea.’
‘Yes, but usually I’m helping him make it. He says he’s cooking, and he wants me to arrive just in time for him to dish out so I don’t get caught up in the prep, and… and he said he wants to talk to me about something.’
‘OMG!’ Rosie squealed and clapped her hands.
‘You know,’ Mam said thoughtfully, ‘you’d never believe you’re forty-three, our Rosie.’
‘Thanks, Auntie Cherry.’ Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘Did you not hear what Ali just said? Mac’s invited her round for dinner and he’s got something he wants to talk to her about.’
‘Yes, I broke my arm, not my eardrums,’ Mam said with a tut.
‘Now, Alison,’ she said, turning to her daughter with an earnest expression on her face, ‘you need to be ready. When a man says he wants to talk to you about something it quite often means one thing – and it’s not a proposal of marriage.
It’s manspeak. They have their own language, you know.
A sort of code that we’re expected to understand.
It could be that what Ian really wants—’
‘Mac,’ Alison interrupted automatically.
‘All right, all right,’ said her mother, with an impatient wave of her mended arm. ‘It could be that what Mac really wants is a bit of how’s-your-father.’
‘How’s-your-father?’ Rosie bit her lip and gave Alison a sly look.
‘Rumpy-pumpy,’ Alison’s mother explained.
Rosie shrugged, her eyes wide with innocence. ‘Sorry, Auntie Cherry. I’m not following.’
Alison averted her gaze as her mother sighed with exasperation and said, ‘You know! A bit of the other. Getting his leg over.’
Rosie threw up her hands. ‘I’m sorry, I just don’t know what you mean.’
‘For goodness’ sake! Sexual intercourse!’
‘Auntie Cherry!’
‘Mother! Wash your mouth out with soap,’ Alison commanded, as she and Rosie burst out laughing and her mam gave them an indignant look.
‘Oh, I see. You were having me on. Well, you can joke all you like but it’s a serious business. Now, Mac is a lovely young lad—’
‘Of sixty-two,’ Rosie mumbled.
‘And I have every respect for him, but the fact remains he’s a man, and men have needs. It’s as well to be prepared.’
‘Don’t worry, Mam,’ Alison said sweetly, ‘I won’t let him touch me.’
‘What? Are you insane?’
Alison stared at her. ‘You said I should be prepared!’
‘Yes, and so you should! Put your best bra and pants on, and for goodness’ sake, shave your legs.
And take a toothbrush in case he wants you to stay over, because you don’t want to put him off you before you’ve even got started, especially since you don’t know what he’ll be cooking.
And if there’s garlic bread on offer, avoid, avoid, avoid, and make bloody sure it goes in the bin before he can eat any. ’
Alison was speechless, which was a shame because it gave Rosie the perfect opportunity to say airily, ‘Oh, that ship’s already sailed.’
‘I can’t believe you just said that!’ she gasped, as her mother whooped and clapped her hands.
‘You know, you’d never believe you’re eighty-four, Auntie Cherry,’ Rosie said sarcastically.
‘Is this true?’
Alison groaned inwardly as her mother leaned over and grasped her arm, her eyes bright with excitement. ‘Have you and Mac done the dirty deed?’
‘How many euphemisms can you come up with in one afternoon?’ Alison shook her head in wonder. ‘All right, just keep your voice down, will you? Rosie, remind me never to tell you anything in confidence ever again.’
‘It’s only sex, Ali,’ Rosie said, her eyes twinkling.
‘We’ve all done it. And anyway, it’s your own fault.
You should have given me all the details, but you won’t, which I think is dead mean.
Do you know, Auntie Cherry, she won’t tell me anything about it!
I mean, what’s the point of doing it if you’re not going to spend hours relaying every detail to your favourite cousin afterwards? ’
Alison’s mouth fell open as her mother nodded. ‘It does seem a bit mean. So come on, love, spill the beans. I mean,’ she added hastily, ‘I don’t want any of the ins and outs, so to speak, but just tell me if it was worth it. Was Mac good in bed?’
There was a clattering sound and they all turned, stunned to see Stella standing in the archway between the shop and the cafe, a carrier bag lying on the floor and cans of baked beans and chopped tomatoes rolling along the slates.
‘Bloody hell,’ Alison murmured, horrified.
‘Oh heck,’ Rosie said. ‘Awks or what?’
‘Stella, love,’ Mam cried, waving to the white-faced woman as if she’d just spotted her best friend. ‘How smashing to see you. How are you? Would you like to join us? We’re about to have tea.’
Stella bent down and gathered her spilled shopping. Stuffing it in the carrier bag, she walked hesitantly over to the table.
‘You and Mac?’ she asked Alison. ‘My brother?’
Alison’s heart skipped. She hated confrontations. ‘Er, yes.’
‘Since when?’ Stella demanded.
Alison looked round at her mother and cousin for support. ‘Well, not long,’ she said faintly.
‘Long enough, though,’ Rosie said defiantly.
‘Clearly,’ Stella said. ‘Well, I’m glad to see he’s got over our mother’s death so quickly. I’d hate to think he was grieving or anything silly like that.’
Alison’s eyes narrowed. She might not like confrontation, but she wasn’t about to let Stella get away with that.
‘He loved your mother very much. Of course he’s grieving for her.
He misses her.’ She hesitated, hardly wanting to be nice to this woman at all, but knowing Mac wanted to build bridges with her. ‘He misses you too.’
‘Sure he does.’ Stella gave a bitter laugh.
‘If Ian – or Mac as he insists on calling himself these days – really missed me, he’d do as I asked and give me my due.
By rights Watersmeet should be mine anyway and everyone knows it, but I’ve said I’ll accept half of it and I’ve offered to buy his half from him.
What more can I do? He’s just so bloody unreasonable.
And now I know why. He’s got some stupid notion of playing happy families with you! ’
‘He’s building a new life for himself,’ Alison said, forcing herself to stay calm, even though she was seething. ‘Can’t you just accept that and move on? Let him be happy.’
‘Let him be happy?’ Stella gave her a pitying look. ‘You really don’t have the first idea, do you? You think you know him? You don’t. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.’
‘Well,’ Rosie said angrily, ‘your ex-husband clearly doesn’t share your opinion of him.’
Stella and Alison both turned to look at her, each clearly as surprised as the other.
‘Gavin?’ Stella asked. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’
Alison heard the catch in her voice and felt a sudden stirring of sympathy for her.
She had to remember that Stella was still missing her ex-husband and was acting out of character.
She never used to be like this. Everyone said how kind and lovely Stella was, though you’d never believe it lately. What had happened to her?
She wanted to warn Rosie to leave it. She knew Mac wouldn’t want his sister hurt and she had a feeling any mention of Gavin would only inflict more harm upon her. But Rosie had the bit between her teeth, and she wasn’t about to mince her words.
‘I was chatting to him this morning. He called the caravan park while I was cleaning Time and Tide, and he mentioned Mac had rung him to chat, and they were going out for a drink on Saturday for a catch-up. So it seems Gavin doesn’t bear any grudges towards him, doesn’t it?
Maybe you should take a leaf out of your ex’s book. ’
Stella stared at her for a long moment, until even Rosie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Then, without another word, Stella marched out of The Hub, slamming the door behind her.
‘Well,’ Alison said faintly, ‘that’s done it. Poor Stella.’
‘Poor Stella?’ Rosie demanded. ‘Did you hear the way she was speaking about Ian?’
‘Mac,’ Alison’s mam reminded her.
They all sat there, rather subdued.
Mrs Miller came through, all smiles, carrying a tray with three mugs of tea on it.
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to go with that?’ she asked. ‘I’ve baked some of my blueberry muffins.’ She nudged Alison. ‘Our Emmy said you were very partial to my blueberry muffins.’
Alison could only shake her head. Even if she wasn’t on a diet, just thinking of Stella’s stricken look as she left the cafe, and the pain in her eyes that revealed all too clearly how hurt she was that Gavin – who everyone knew avoided Stella as much as he possibly could – was going out socialising with her brother, she felt every mouthful would stick in her throat.