Abigail: Chapter 44

I wandered through the next couple of days on autopilot. I’d collected the phone from Abigail as promised, arranged the tea-time meeting with Toby’s mum and dad and all parental responsibilities were met, but everything felt difficult and I found my attention waning when the girls were talking to me. If I were them I’d have been far less patient. As it was they allowed me to drift into the weekend without making too many demands of me. The one expectation that none of us could avoid arrived far too swiftly: dinner with my mother on Sunday afternoon. It was with a mixture of shock and horror that I’d listened to her accept my invitation. Louise had been planning the menu ever since and I’d never seen her look so stressed, poor lamb. Her exams last summer had been more fun than cooking dinner for my mother and I’d resolved to wait at least another decade before inviting her again.

At four o’clock on the dot there was a knock at the door. We’d been tidying and cleaning all day, there wasn’t a centimetre in the house that hadn’t been wiped or rubbed or polished. All the same, as soon as my mother walked through the door I made the usual comment about excusing the mess. She didn’t say anything, just ran her finger along the pot cupboard.

Louise was the first to greet her grandmother. “Gran! Hello!” My mother offered the side of her head but Louise wrapped her in a hug. “Merry Christmas!”

“Christmas isn’t for another ten days young lady.” She looked around at our decorations and frowned. “When your mother was a child the tree went up on Christmas Eve. Traditions are important, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t agree more, we’d just chosen to create our own traditions instead of rehashing the same old tedious ones. Not that I said that to my mother of course. I just smiled and offered her a drink.

“I’ve got some mulled wine if you like. It’s only from Asda but it’s quite tasty.”

“Wine Charlotte? On the Lord’s day?” She wrinkled up her nose like she’d just been forced to smell a pair of Grace’s old trainers. 

“Oh Mother, you haven’t been to church since about 1987. Have a glass of wine and stop being such an old misery guts!”

Damning verdict delivered I flounced into the kitchen to get us both a warming mug of wine. Louise caught my eye as I headed out the door and I gave her a wink. I was determined to have a nice evening and if that meant standing up to my mother a little, so be it. I walked into the kitchen to see Grace flapping her hand in front of her mouth. Louise had already warned her that the muffins needed to cool but Grace, true to form, hadn’t wanted to take her sister’s word for it.

“Serves you right,” I said as I warmed the wine in the microwave.

“I’ll tell Gran you used the microwave!” she said, when she could finally speak again.

“You wouldn’t dare?” I feigned horror. “What are you doing hiding out here anyway? Come and say hello to Gran.”

I opened the door of the microwave when it had counted down to its final seconds so the noise of it beeping wouldn’t give me away then, wine in hand, took it and Grace through to the front room where Louise was doing her best to be entertaining. I handed a mug to my mum with a smile.

“Merry Christmas Mum!” I said, daring her to start complaining again.

“Hmph!”

Three glasses of mulled wine later and we were both starting to feel a little more relaxed. Louise’s baked goodies had been well received so she was smiling and Grace, having transformed into some kind of magician with stories that became increasingly ridiculous with every passing minute, had even managed to do the impossible: she made my mother smile. Once she got over the shock of seeing her Gran grin, Grace warmed into the role of entertainer and the evening couldn’t have been going better if I’d written it.

After dinner, as if sensing we might be in danger of having just a little too much fun, my mother turned the conversation round to work and in particular, my latest case. She was always doing things like this and I should have known better than to let my guard down and actually enjoy her company but, naive fool that I am, I’d thought we could all simply enjoy a relaxing pre-Christmas evening together, but it was not to be.

“How’s work going Charlotte?”

“Good thanks Mum.” I resisted the urge to remind her that I preferred to be called Charlie and got a thumbs up under the table from Louise by way of reward.

“What did you say this latest one was about?”

“I didn’t.”

“There’s no need to take that tone. I was only showing an interest.”

“You know I can’t talk about it. Client confidentiality.” I sighed. We’d gone over this many, many times before.

She ignored me and turned to the girls. “Does your mother really not tell you anything about her work? Such a shame she can’t share with you. It would be a great example to you both, she works so hard.”

“Oh she tells us some stuff,” Louise said. “She’s a great Mum! Isn’t that right Grace?”

“Sure is. Just great,” said Grace slowly. Unlike Louise, Grace was only too aware what my mum was trying to do. I saw her giving Louise the evil eye but Louise only looked confused.

“If you can talk about it to your children, you can talk about it to your mother. I don’t understand why you insist upon being so secretive Charlotte.”

“Right, that’s it! I’ve had quite enough of this crap for one night. I’m not being secretive, I just don’t want to talk about my case to you, and if you can’t handle that, that’s your problem. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to phone you a taxi.”

With that I stormed out of the room. When I looked back over my shoulder, Grace was giving me a thumbs up with something that almost looked like respect in her eyes. Well would you look at that, I do have a spine after all.