‘Wrong?’ Son sounded doubtful as he slowly shook his head.
‘Or something that struck you as strange,’ put in Pat. ‘Out of place?’
Son looked at them, perplexed. ‘No,’ he said.
Tiffany looked at Pat, who sighed in frustration. ‘Was anyone missing who should have been there?’ she asked.
Again, the shake of the head. ‘The only person who wasn’t there was Bun Widdup,’ he said. ‘But she was never going to be there; it’s two hours from where she lives.’
‘Our friend told us the service was quite emotional,’ said Pat tentatively.
Son nodded slowly. ‘There was a bit of darkness,’ he said. ‘But people moved their souls to the place where they needed to be.’
Pat nodded. ‘Was one of those places Hollinby Quernhow?
‘The poem,’ said Son suddenly. ‘Thathelped everyone.’
‘Poem?’ said Tiffany.
‘The poem Bun read out …’ Son smiled remembering. ‘Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,’ he said. ‘It was … special.It brought light into the space we were all in.’ Son nodded, remembering. ‘When she read, the sunlight was coming into her room. It was like she had a halo, like an angel—’
As they were saying goodbye Tiffany said, ‘We’ll Zoom again – and maybe meet up sometime?’
‘That was good of you,’ said Pat as she shut the laptop. Privately she wondered what her son would have to say about his pregnant partner visiting someone who might had a criminal conviction for GBH; indeed, thinking about it, she was none too happy herself. A conversation for another time, she thought.
‘I feel sorry for him,’ said Tiffany. ‘Besides’ – she looked blankly round the kitchen as if it were a top-security cell – ‘I’ll have enough time on my hands.’ She sighed a deep sigh.
‘Yes, about that,’ said Pat, ‘I’ve been thinking. About you, about your influencing … I mean what is it you and Justin are saying? Don’t get down –get right back up!’
Tiffany looked at her, tired and pasty.
‘It just occurred to me,’ said Pat. ‘How about something along the lines of Ms T.J. Rox the Cradle?’
‘Sorry?’ Tiffany frowned.
‘Motherhood with pizazz!’ said Pat. ‘Feng-shuied nurseries, holistic lullabies – bath bombs for birthing pools.’
She went over to the counter to start preparing Angela Hartnett’s yellow bean, fennel and tuna salad. There’d be a houseful tonight. Andrew and Simone were coming for supper so that the news could be broken to them. Plus, they were going to Zoom Liam and Bern away in the Bolognian villa. Looking up from the recipe, she could see Tiffany’s face in the reflection from the glass cupboard door, frowning, mouth slightly open, and Pat could tell with a thrill of satisfaction that this wonderful, bright creature, the mother of her first grandchild, had been stopped short by an idea that wasn’t her own.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Monday 28th July
Voice of the Vale, Thirsk FM Radio: Today’s beat-the-heat tip!
Hot in the office? Ditch the darkness! Dark clothes absorb the heat, so go for loose, light garments! Better still – strip off! (If you have your own office or work from home, that is!)
‘Come on, Noah. Frame thissen’, lad!’ The hearty Yorkshire voice vibrated through the speaker on Thelma’s laptop. ‘Tell me one reason you might be caught speeding the old brum-brum? We’ve had been late; we’ve had having an urgent appointment.’ Thelma was glad it wasn’t her being asked the question because the only answer she could think of was something along the lines of ‘driving from Pity Me to Hollinby Quernhow in half an hour flat’. She stole a glance at the open page of the green mark book. Now Ffion was removed from the equation it seemed that Neville’s visitor had to be someone from Pity Me school.
‘Come on, Noah, we’re waiting, lad!’ The owner of the voice – Jim Whitlaw, their course leader – was one of those people who made a virtue of their Yorkshire accent, implyingthrough its blunt, colloquial nature a quality of down-to-earth common sense.
Yawning, the young man wrapped in a duvet looked out, a sleepy face amongst the other panels of faces.
‘How about there being a totally unnecessary speed camera in a place no one can see it,’ interjected another voice, crisp and decidedly tetchy.
‘Now then, Cheryl love, let Noah speak,’ said Jim Whitlaw easily. ‘We’re all here to muck in and learn, remember.’
‘If you drive when you’re upset’ – Noah spoke up suddenly and clearly – ‘you can lose concentration and end up going fast without thinking about it.’
