Amy smiled. ‘I remember my mother panicking after she’d invited you over to stay. Gilly’s such a brilliant cook and she thought Gilly would hate everything my mum cooked.’
‘She wouldn’t have cared!’ said Helena. ‘And your parents have a very deft hand with the corkscrew and that really helped.’
‘She’s done so well since the divorce,’ said Amy. ‘You must be proud of her.’
‘I am! And I’m going to make sure my brother and his wife don’t take advantage of all her hard work.’
‘You don’t think they’re going to try, do you?’ Amy was horrified.
Helena shrugged. ‘Why else invite us both to Sunday lunch? I think Mum knows more than she’s telling me because she’s afraid I’ll go ballistic at the thought.’
Amy shook her head. ‘Well, keep me informed. I’d love to think badly of a green-smoothie addict.’
Chapter Four
‘Shall I drive?’ said Helena. It was Sunday morning, and Helena had parked her car outside Fairacres and gone inside to pick up her mother. ‘Then you can have a glass of wine?’
‘A whole glass? I don’t think so. That would be more units than would be healthy,’ said Gilly, looking around to check everything was locked. ‘Cressida always wants everyone to be healthy.’
‘Mum! It’s so unlike you to say something like that. I love it when you find your inner bitch.’
Gilly laughed. ‘I’m always quite relieved to discover I have one, I must say. Now, have I got everything?’
‘I’m not sure Cressida appreciates home baking, Mum,’ said Helena, eyeing the collection of Tupperware her mother had in her basket.
‘I know she doesn’t, but Martin does and he takes it into work. He tells Cressida that it’s to give to his colleagues, but I know he eats it too.’
‘But don’t you think she breathalyses him to detect the consumption of carbs and sugar when he gets home?’
‘Probably. Mostly I take biscuits so Issi has something she can eat when she gets home from school. I don’t think that little girl actually gets enough calories. It’s all cucumber and carrots and the odd seed. But I expect you’re right, I shouldn’t be her enabler—’
Helena giggled. ‘To home-made shortbread. Oh, what a wicked granny you are!’
Helena spent the journey wondering if she should mention her suspicions about her sister-in-law’s motives behind inviting them both to lunch to see if Gilly confessed to thinking the same thing. But she knew her mother didn’t like it when she said unpleasant things about Cressida and so didn’t want to do it unless it was really justified.
She parked outside the sleekly modern house, which had a steep drive that didn’t encourage visiting vehicles. Helena and her mother sat in the car for a few seconds, bracing themselves. ‘I hope you’re wrapped up warm,’ said Gilly eventually.
‘Mum! It’s April!’
‘Only just! And that house is always cold, but Cressida is always warm. It’s the running.’
Helena shuddered. Her sister-in-law’s addiction to running always unsettled her. ‘Let’s go in.’
Martin, her brother, greeted her with a hug and a ‘Hey, Sis.’
His wife, who was tall as well as thin, was dressed in black. Her hair was pulled back into a very tidy ponytail and she was wearing silver jewellery. Her make-up was pale and either didn’t include lipstick or she was using one the same shade as her foundation.
Her welcome was a bit more gushing than her husband’s. She smiled at Helena and kissed Gilly on both cheeks and patted her shoulder. The little girl, Ismene, who was five years old and serious, said, ‘Good morning, Grandma and Helena.’
Helena winced for her mother. Gilly was a devoted grandmother but she hated being called Grandma. However, in spite of her expressing her dislike of it when Ismene was tiny, Cressida had insisted this was how she was to be addressed. Cressida was big on proper names.
‘So, come along in,’ said Martin, ushering them through to the sitting room.
Although the room was cold, there was no fire in the super-modern fireplace. But even if the underfloor heating had been on, it would always be chilly. Helena felt it was something about the décor, which was white and mauve with black accents.
The look that Cressida gave Helena’s feet was clear – she wanted Helena to take off her shoes. Helena ignored the message. She was cold enougheven though she had put on a warm cardigan before coming and she couldn’t cope with just socks. She wouldn’t have objected to being asked to remove her shoes had she been offered fluffy slippers to replace them but there was nothing fluffy in this house. She noticed that Cressida hadn’t given her mother the silent ‘take off your shoes’ message. Just for a moment Helena wished that one of them had stepped in dog poo.
‘Sherry, Martin!’ ordered Cressida crisply.
