She bustled about for a moment, fetching mugs, filling the kettle and taking milk from the fridge. She even fetched some biscuits from the pantry which she knew Izzy would never be able to refuse. And all of it giving her a little more time to get her face straight and her head back where it needed to be.
‘I know you’ve told me what time the wedding is, but remind me,’ she said, turning back around and holding out the cookies.
‘Two o’clock,’ said Izzy. ‘But I said I’d get there mid-morning to help her get ready. I can’t wait to see what she looks like – her dress isinsane…’
‘In a good way? Or a bad way?’
Izzy grimaced. ‘Depends on your point of view. It’s insanely beautiful – covered in tiny seed pearls, all hand-sewn by virgins who live in a remote village in Tibet – it’s not, obviously, but you get my drift – and is therefore insanely expensive. If I ever get married, don’t let me go mad like that, will you? I think I’d ratherkeep the thirty grand and do something slightly more lasting with it. I don’t mean the marriage,’ she added hastily. ‘I hope that lasts and lasts, but all that money…just for one day.’
‘Thirty grand?’ asked Peg, horrified. ‘Is that how much it costs these days?’
‘Yep…although that includes the engagement ring and the honeymoon. The wedding itself is only twenty grand.’
Peg laughed. ‘Oh well, that’s all right then. Although, if I’m going to need that kind of money to pay for you and Phoebe to get married, perhaps moving will be a good thing. I was thinking it might be an ideal time to downsize.’
‘Mum!’ exclaimed Izzy, her forehead furrowed with concern. ‘There’s no way you’re going to be paying for us; Phoebe and I have agreed. Besides, that’s not how it’s done nowadays. Couples pay for themselves. The whole father of the bride thing – or even mother of the bride thing – it’s kind of considered old-fashioned now.’
‘Thank heavens for that.’ Peg wafted a hand at her face as if she were having an attack of the vapours.
Izzy frowned. ‘You’re not still thinking of moving though, are you, Mum?’ she asked quietly. ‘I hoped once Mim was feeling better that would all fizzle out.’
Peg drew in a breath. ‘Well…she is feeling better, but longer-term, the situation isn’t going to change, Iz. I’m not sure what else I can do.’
‘But you can’t move from here, Mum, it—’ She broke off, looking rattled. ‘I just can’t imagine you being anywhere else.’
‘I’m having a hard time with that myself, but irrespective…I made a promise to Mim, and I’m not going back on it. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. I’m not going to make any rash decisions, though. I want to take my time and make sure I find somewhere equally as nice as this place.’ She directed a look through the kitchen door and lowered her voice. ‘I’ve noidea how long that might take, so I’ve come up with a way which would allow me to be close to Mim at the same time as having a look around.’
Izzy followed the direction of her eyes. ‘Go on…’
‘Henry is thinking he might move down this way. He wants to be closer to his son and daughter-in-law, which, given what’s just happened to him, I can understand.’ She cleared her throat; his name seemed to get stuck in it. ‘So I’ve suggested we swap houses for a bit. We haven’t properly discussed it yet, but it would buy us both some time before we commit to anything.’
Izzy was studying her face. ‘I thought something was up,’ she whispered. ‘Not being funny, but you could cut the atmosphere in here with a knife when I walked in. Is it not working out with Henry staying here?’
‘No, it’s not that, just…’ Peg tilted her head in the direction of the living room.
Iz nodded in understanding. ‘Garden?’ she said.
Peg nodded. It had always been their go-to place whenever they needed a private chat. Wordlessly, they donned boots and a coat each from the stash which Peg kept by the door and headed outside. The times she and Izzy had retreated into the garden over the years…during Julian’s last few months, it had seemed almost a daily occurrence, and the memory of the reasons why was stark in her mind.
‘So what’s up?’ asked Izzy, hands thrust in her pockets. ‘I thought you were enjoying having Henry here?’
Peg looked helplessly at her daughter, wondering how on earth to begin. ‘I am, Izzy, I…It’s just that I think Henry’s impression of our relationship is somewhat different from mine. I know I told you that on the day of his accident he’d been on his way to see me, but what I haven’t said is that Henry doesn’t remember a thing about the crash. He thinks he drove over here and spent the rest of the day with me – a day he can “remember”down to the last tiny details. Needless to say, it was perfect in every regard.’
Izzy frowned. ‘So, what…he was dreaming then?’
‘He must have been. He described falling asleep after we’d eaten dinner, and I think his brain was trying to protect him from the trauma of the crash by manufacturing something pleasant. Except that he seems to have it in his head that this is a sign – of something between us.’ She sighed. ‘It’s hard to know what to say to him, particularly given what he’s been through, but I don’t want to encourage him. I’ve tried to let him down gently but I think I might have sounded a bit rude…not rude, exactly, but dismissive certainly.’
Izzy was staring at her wellies, wriggling her toes inside them. ‘So you don’t want there to be anything between you then?’ She peered up through her lashes, something she always did as a child when she was trying to get away with being cheeky.
Peg stared at her, lips pursed. ‘No, Izzy, I don’t. We met by chance. And yes, when I saw his car ahead of me in the traffic jam I did feel compelled to talk to him, even though I knew it was an odd thing to do. I can’t explain it, and I’m having trouble rationalising this myself, but that’s all it was, a chance meeting. I like him. I’d even go so far as to say it’s been nice having him here, but…anything else is just ridiculous.’
‘Not that ridiculous,’ replied Izzy. ‘I mean, he’s gorgeous. All studious and bookish.’
‘Is he?’
‘Yes. Haven’t you noticed the way his hair falls over his forehead when he talks? He reminds me of a young Hugh Grant.’
Peg, who had, said nothing.
