“You were at that bookshop all night again with thatgypsy.”
“Mum, for the last time,don’t use that word. It doesn’t mean what you think it means. It’s a derogatory term the Victorians invented because they thought the Romani people looked like Egyptians.”
“I don’t need a linguistics lesson, Wilhelmina. I need to know why you care more about those bookshop delinquents than you do about your own mother.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. You know that’s not true.”
“I needed you this evening. The local pet shop has agreed to stock some of my books, only the owner flicked through the cat one and she says it’s filled with spelling errors. I can’t understand it! The salesman says they’d been checked over by a best-selling author. Now I need you to check all the spelling and change it on the file—”
“Mum, I’m not spending my evenings helping you edit a cat dictionary. I have a job. I’m making friends. Actual friends who don’t stab me in the back, like Ashley did.” I winced at my choice of words as the image of the bloody knife in Ashley’s back flashed before my eyes. “And if you must know, I wasn’t with Heathcliff and Morrie and Quoth. I had a drink at the pub with my new girlfriend, Jo – not that I need to ask your permission. I’m an adult now. I lived for four years on my own inNew York City. I can go out and see my friends if I want to.”
“That was before you got your diagnosis. Mina, you’re goingblind.I understand you’re upset and you want to rebel, but you have to be careful who you trust now, darling.” Mum wrapped her arms around me. I stiffened under her touch. “I’m here to look after you, but you have to let me help you.”
“Shouldn’t the fact thatItrust Heathcliff and Morrie and Quoth and Jo be enough for you?”
“Not when I haven’t even met them. I need to know what sort of people my baby girl is hanging out with.” Mum wiped a strand of hair out of my face. Her eyes widened with maternal care, and a lump rose in my throat.Maybe I’m being too hard on her?“Did you even ask the gyp— ask Mr. Heathcliff Earnshaw about stocking my dictionaries?”
I sighed and slid out of her grasp.Nope, definitely not being too hard on her.“I had a few other things on my mind today.” In the kitchen, I filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. “A woman died in the shop.”
“Anotherdead body? Oh, Mina, that place is dangerous—”
I sighed. I couldn’t exactly argue with her. “I’m not giving up my job or my friends. What will make you feel better?”
She tapped her chin, her eyes glinting.Great, I’m going to pay for this.
“I want a dinner. You’re going to invite these new friends over for a nice home-cooked meal. We’ll sit down like adults and they can calm my fears from their own words.”
I stared around our tiny kitchen, at the cracked linoleum and peeling paint on the cupboards, at the charity shop furniture and rickety shelves crammed with Mum’s junk. It was bad enough that Jo and Quoth had seen the outside of the flat. It was bad enough they all knew I was poor and that I was going blind. If the boys saw inside this place, they’d realize that I wasn’t this interesting person they thought they liked. They’d see all the secrets I’d tried to hide from them. I’d be wide open, exposed.
And Jo? She was a clever professional woman with an advanced degree and a mortgage and a electric car. She’s been so deliberately trying to put me at ease when she dropped me off, that I knew the whole thing must’ve freaked her out. There was that familiar squint in her eye as she took in the dilapidated house and our delightful neighbors the drug dealers, the tilt of her lips into that look of pity.
People couldn’t be friends with people they pitied. It upset the balance. My hand trembled as I poured the water into my tea.I’m not having them over for dinner. I’m not losing the best people who’d ever happened to me.
Now, how to convince Mum to drop it.
“They won’t all fit around the table. We could go to the pub instead. My treat—”
“No, that won’t do. If you can’t invite them over here, then they’re not close friends, and I don’t think you should be spending so much time with them.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Mina, can’t you just let me meet them so I stop worrying about you?” Mum rubbed her eyes. “All this worrying is aging me horribly.”
I swiped my hand across my eyes, hoping Mum chalked up the tears pooling in the corners as the result of one too many drinks. “Fine. I’ll invite them.”
Chapter Nine
“I’ll have four Cornish pasties, thanks, Greta, and my usual coffee order.” I forced a smile for the tiny German girl across the counter.
Stop putting off the inevitable. Just get over to the bookshop and ask them. Make it sound so awful they’ll have no choice but to refuse.
“Ja.The pasties are fresh out of the oven.” Greta moved down the cabinet, placing my purchases into paper bags. “You are okay? You look upset.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Just… stressed. You know, I moved back here from New York City. I thought Argleton would be slow, but between the boy problems and the dead bodies and that bloody mouse, I feel like I can’t catch a break.”
“Do not get me started on that mouse,” Greta shook her head. “It ruined an entire batch of pumpernickel! But that is not your problem. I heard Gladys Scarlett was taken ill at your book club yesterday.”
“Not taken ill,” a distraught voice behind me cried. “She’s dead!”
