His nan tutted and Emma smiled nervously back at her. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Green.’
‘Never mind this Mrs malarky. Call me Betty.’ Her pale blue eyes, the same colour as her grandson’s, twinkled at Emma.
‘Pleased to meet you, Betty.’ Emma handed her the bunch of flowers she’d been clutching nervously.
‘Oh, tulips, my favourite,’ Betty said appreciatively. ‘I’ll just put them in water. Take a seat.’ She gestured to the scrubbedwooden table surrounded by four chairs. Before either of them had the chance to respond, she continued. ‘I should really show you to the best room, but I prefer it in here. It’s nice and cosy.’
‘It certainly is,’ Emma said. ‘And lunch smells glorious. It’s making my mouth water.’
Betty smiled and bustled off to find a vase for the flowers. Emma looked around the immaculately clean kitchen. Against one wall was a dresser crammed full of plates, photos and bits and bobs. In another corner was a worn but comfortable-looking armchair nestled by a side table, and at the other end was the compact kitchen area. A rather large ginger cat lay asleep on the chair. At the sound of their voices he opened his eyes, stared at Emma, yawned and then went back to sleep. Emma was tempted to stroke him, but didn’t want to disturb him.
‘What a lovely cat,’ she said instead.
Jay laughed. ‘That’s Roland. Does nothing but sleep and eat.’
‘Don’t you be making fun of my Roland,’ Betty replied defensively. ‘He’s getting on in years and needs his sleep. Do you like cats, Emma?’
Emma chose her words carefully. ‘I do, although we never had any pets when I was growing up and I wouldn’t want to have one where we live. It’s far too busy.’
‘Yes, I can understand that. But round here is perfect for Roland and he still likes to go hunting at night-time. During the day, he keeps me company. I wouldn’t be without him.’
‘Sounds like the perfect companion for you,’ Emma replied. ‘Can I help you with anything?’
‘You most certainly cannot. You’re my guest,’ Betty replied gruffly. ‘Jay, get the girl a drink. She’d die of thirst if it was up to you.’
Jay raised his eyebrows despairingly at Emma and she just managed to stifle a giggle. His nan certainly was a character.
‘What have you got, Nan?’
‘Whatever you want. Look in the fridge. There’s wine, beer, cider, orange juice.’ She frowned as she looked at Emma. ‘You don’t want a soft drink, do you? Not with a Sunday roast?’
Emma had been about to suggest just that as she wanted to keep a clear head, but judging by Betty’s tone she thought it best to change her mind. ‘I’ll have a small glass of white wine, please, Jay.’
‘Good choice.’ Betty nodded happily. ‘And you can pour me a glass of cider.’ She pushed some of the photos aside and squeezed the vase of flowers onto the dresser, then said, ‘Now, I’ll crack on with the dinner.’
‘Are you sure . . .’
Jay interrupted her. ‘Nan has her own way of doing things and doesn’t like anyone interfering,’ he said quietly.
‘The boy’s right,’ Betty said. She didn’t miss a trick. ‘You just chat among yourselves and dinner will be on the table in a jiffy.’
Jay smiled. ‘We’ll be lucky to get a chance to talk with you going on like you do.’
Betty swiped him with her tea towel. ‘Don’t be so cheeky.’
Emma watched as Betty dextrously reached into the oven for a large roasting pan, which she put on a chopping board on one of the worktops. She spooned the fat over the meat and sniffed appreciatively. ‘Ah, nothing smells quite so good as roast beef.’
‘It smells delicious,’ Emma said.
Betty scooped it out of the pan and put it on a plate to rest. ‘You can carve that for me in a bit, Jay.’ She went on to make gravy from the meat juices, while keeping up a constant flow of conversation. Emma watched her in awe. Betty might be in her late seventies, but there was certainly nothing slowing her down. She felt an enormous amount of respect for the lady and had a feeling that Jay was right. They were going to get on like a house on fire.
Dinner was just as delicious as the smell of it had promised and Emma ate with enthusiasm, much to Betty’s approval.
‘So, Jay tells me you’re in the hospitality business too?’
‘Yes. I’ve not long finished my degree and I’m working as a trainee manager at the Rosemont Hotel in the West End,’ she answered between mouthfuls.
‘Um, very posh.’
