‘Grandma won’t give you any money, Cal,’ Miles cut him off. We’d had this conversation one too many times. ‘You know she doesn’t believe in giving money instead of presents.’
Callum grumbled inaudibly, but I caught the sentiment,what the hell’s the point in all this then?And honestly, I couldn’t argue with that. They were richer than God, and yet here we were driving up to their mansion in a decade-old car with a crack in the windscreen that could spread at any minute.
The car pulled up in front of the house and I saw one of the curtains twitch in the front parlour. No doubt Aunt Clementine in her favourite spot, peering out at us and relaying her critiques to Miles’s uncle Fergus; our arrival time, our choice of vehicle, our very existence…
‘I’m going to tell them about my girlfriend,’ Martha said with defiance.
‘No,pleasedon’t, darling,’ I begged, ‘we just want to get through this visit as smoothly as possible.’
Martha’s brows rose, her mouth pinched and ready to argue. ‘Are you ashamed of me? Are you embarrassed that I have a girlfriend?’ Her voice began to rise.
‘No, no, it’s not that at all!’ I placated her. ‘You know we love Sarah. It’s just…’ I looked to Miles for back-up.
‘You know what they are like, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘We just don’t want the headache. Besides, do you really want them knowing about your private life?’
Martha stared at us with defiance. ‘I’m not ashamed, and I won’t pretend to be something I’m not just to please them,’ she said crossing her arms.
‘And we don’t want you to,’ I agreed. ‘We are so proud of you. We’re just trying to avoid any friction?—’
Martha rolled her eyes.
We’d barely pulled up when the massive oak door swung open, revealing Miles’s mother, Jeannie, resplendent in a fine cashmere Christmas jumper and an impressively thick gold necklace with matching earrings that probably cost more than our monthly mortgage. Jeannie’s short silver hair was always meticulously styled, as if she’d had a professional blow-dry every morning.
‘Ready?’ Miles said ominously.
‘Absolutely not,’ I said, taking a deep breath before setting my face into a pleasant smile and swinging open the car door.
‘Miles!’ Jeannie trilled, her voice carrying across thedriveway. ‘Lunch is on the table. We thought you were arriving at one?’
‘Bad traffic,’ he called, rounding the car and trotting up the stone steps to greet her. She aimed a kiss right for the lips, and he artfully evaded it with a swift kiss to her cheek.
From behind Jeannie, a flash of beige fur. Gloria bounded out of the doors, her golden tail wagging, tongue hanging out and brown eyes shining as she excitedly greeted us. Miles bent down and put his forehead to the golden retriever’s face and scratched her lovingly behind both ears.
I ascended the steps, Callum and Martha trailing behind with the reluctance of prisoners being led to the gallows.Jeannie’seyes swept over me, her smile never wavering but a flicker of disapproval passing through her gaze. She had been avoiding me ever since Miles had told her of our move to Australia– even though we were technically going for his work, she made it clear she thought it was my fault.
‘Olivia, darling,’ she said, air-kissing both my cheeks.
‘So good to see you, Jeannie.’ I went in for an awkward hug. ‘You look lovely as always.’
‘Have you changed your hair?’ she asked, her gaze already drifting away from me to survey Callum and Martha.
‘No … no, I haven’t,’ I replied, trying to think whether I had in fact changed my hair since the last time she saw me. I had always kept my natural blonde hair mid-length. I realised a little too late that what she really meant to say was,still sporting the same old hairstyle, then?
‘Something smells great,’ I managed, stepping over the threshold and into the grand foyer.
The scent of roast meat hit me immediately, along with the underlying mustiness of old money and antiquated furniture. Voices drifted from the dining room. The hive where the hornets liked to gather.
Jeannie was fussing over the kids while Miles went to collect our bags.
‘Don’t do that, dear,’ Jeannie waved her hand, ‘Mrs Harlow will see to it later.’
Poor long-suffering Mrs Harlow the housekeeper; at least we would have the pleasure of one friendly face.Two weeks, two weeks, two weeks,I muttered under my breath as my feet took me over the black-and-white tiles and closer to the dining room of doom. But– two weeks was a horribly long time. Three hundred and thirty-six hours to be exact.
A lot could happen in three hundred and thirty-six hours.
As I stepped through the double doors, Uncle Fergus’s booming laugh, Aunt Clem’s shrill tones, and Grandma Toots’s wispy voice stopped suddenly as they all turned to look at me. Miles’s father, George, hardly ever spoke, and today was no different. He merely raised his glass in greeting and gave us a curt nod.
The enormous oak table was laden with a spread that could feed a small army– roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, mountains of roasted vegetables, and a steaming gravy boat.
