‘Right, yes, carrots. How much olive oil?’
‘A drizzle.’ She watched her. ‘Bit more… that’s plenty.’
When it came time to serve, Marianne was even more excited and Bess knew it was a combination of the meal she’d prepared and having her son here to witness it. She piled the plates with the meat, pigs in blankets, roast potatoes, vegetables.
Bess pulled the Prosecco from the fridge and took it to the table with a flourish. ‘I’m not working, none of us are; perhaps we make this a real celebration.’
But her suggestion was met with a hard no from both of them.
‘Oh… I just thought…’ She turned to put it back in the fridge. ‘Never mind.’
‘Let’s just enjoy the food,’ Marianne chirruped, still sounding excited.
Bess sat back down as Gio poured the non-alcoholic beverage and they settled into the lunch and chitchat.
The meal was a resounding success.
‘No way are you washing up, Mum,’ said Gio when Marianne automatically went over to the sink to make a start.
‘You’re not doing it with an iffy knee either,’ said Bess. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘You do realise I take walks, I get myself up and down stairs at home now. Oh, and I helped decorate a tree, so plenty of time on my feet.’ His gaze settled on Bess, reminding her of the proximity of their bodies the day they’d done that.
‘You’re like a pair of children,’ Marianne scolded, making them both laugh. ‘I’ll clear up because I’m so pleased this went well that I’m too jittery to do anything else.’
Gio looked confused. ‘Why aren’t you using the dishwasher?’
‘She needs to get it fixed,’ said Marianne. ‘Gio, you’re good with fiddly things, why don’t you take a look at it?’
‘Mum, I’m no dishwasher expert.’ He rolled his eyes, turning to Bess to say, ‘Better to get the professionals or it will end up costing more when they have to fix whatever I’ve made a whole lot worse. I happen to have the number of one; I can pass it to you.’
‘It’s fine, I’ve got one lined up, always use the same guy; he just has a waiting list,’ she lied. So did her finances: one thing at a time.
Bess loved his company, the way he was with his mum, the way he was with her.
And she would have gone to bed with a smile on her face if the evening had ended there.
Except it didn’t.
Gio left, Marianne went to bed, and Bess locked up. She drew the thick, velvet curtain across and that was when she found the brown envelope that must have tumbled through the letterbox and somehow got hidden beneath the curtain, undiscovered until now.
She opened it up. And then sank down on the bottom stair, the tree and the lights taunting her from their position in the lounge.
This was it. Her life had gone pear-shaped and she had no idea what she was going to do now.
19
The howling winds of early January did their best to rattle their way into the house through the windowpanes but the winter gloom couldn’t dampen Gio’s spirits. Not today.
His physiotherapist gave him a sideways glance when he was part way through a set of leg raises. ‘You’re in a good mood.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ His thigh muscles tightened as he lifted his leg off the floor.
‘Nothing.’ But Aysha’s suspicions lingered. ‘It’s making me uneasy; I’m used to you being a bit sulky.’
He burst out laughing.
‘It’s most disconcerting.’ But he saw the glimpse of amusement behind her reprimand.
