‘Oh.’ Less thrilled. ‘Darling, I just didn’t expect to hear from you at this hour. Why aren’t you answering the phone to all those high-powered solicitors and their clients?’
This was clearly Mum’s fantasy about Ally’s job, which she’d be sprinkling across her ladies’ lunches like confetti.
‘So, anyway, Mum, I have a day off and I was wondering if you’d like to meet for lunch?’
‘Oooh, goodness .?.?. gosh, now, you’ve caught me allunawares. I’ve Allegra and Bonnie for lunch, followed by my volunteer visiting .?.?. then I was going to do Pilates, so I could see you before all that at, say, 10.15?’
Yikes. Ally’d been hoping for a bit more time to get her head in order, but at least she’d face her mother early and get it over with.
* * *
They met in Mayfield Café, which was charming and full of greenery, delightful knick-knacks and a smattering of well-to-do female customers. Mum swept in five minutes late, as usual, dressed in dove-grey cashmere, with her ox-blood long boots, and emitting a haze of Creed Les Royales. She was obviously one of the regulars, who helped to set the tone of the place, so she received a rapturous greeting from the flamboyant proprietor.
‘Darling, to what do I owe this pleasure?’ Mum cooed, kissing Ally on the cheek.
Crap, she’d probably have been better off doing this on the phone – still, she was here now and, frankly, fancied the look of the French toasted brioche.
‘Darling, you look .?.?. a little tired. Did they give you a day off for good behaviour?’ Mum winked coyly.
‘Not exactly .?.?.’ Ally waited until their coffee had arrived and then took a big gulp of dark steamy strength. ‘I don’t work there anymore.’
Mum blinked rapidly, like a set of Christmas-tree lights. ‘That job I got you? Why on earth not?’
‘It’s complicated .?.?.’ She took a deep breath and explained to Mum about the ramifications following the bar-fight video.
‘And you’re absolutely sure it didn’t look like you were starting the trouble?’ Typical Mum.
‘You must be joking – unless you count accidentally getting stuck beside large drunk men punching each other.’
There was a tense pause. This was teetering on a knife-edge.
‘Rotters!’ she burst out at last. ‘I met some of those in my time too, although of course I was a lot younger than you at the time .?.?.’ Thanks, Mum.
‘And once Georgina gives you a reference, you can forget all about it. Now, what are we going to eat?’
Their food arrived. Mum had ordered a single almond biscotto with her Americano, while Ally tucked into the luscious spongy French toast with syrup and bacon. ‘This is brunch,’ Ally explained through a mouthful of food.
‘I do worry about you, darling .?.?. What about that nice chap you said you’d met at work?’
Ally groaned. God, she’d only said that as a sort of deflection at the family dinner.
‘I’ve said it before .?.?. you should never have let Francis go.’
‘Oh, Mum, I think he’s got somebody else now.’
‘I know, and she’s very young, my goodness. And from God knows where – nobody knows her family, even. Between ourselves, we bumped into them in Avoca at the weekend.’
‘Mum, if you knew all along, why are you only telling me this now?’
‘Only since Sunday .?.?. I don’t know .?.?.’ Mum went on, oblivious. ‘She was all smiles but is she a bit .?.?.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know .?.?.’
‘Oh, come on .?.?. what?’
‘I’m trying to find the right word .?.?.’ Mum hummed frustratingly for a while. ‘Clever?’
