‘What?’ said Daniel and Nicola together – united for a change.
‘I’ve got a job.’ He turned towards Lottie. ‘Lottie thinks it’s a good idea. Don’t you?’
Lottie’s eyebrows felt like they were heading into space as his parents’ glares turned on her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lottie refused to get involved and made a break for upstairs as a row of gargantuan proportions kicked off over the coins in the kitchen. Angie followed close behind her. As Lottie went into her bedroom, she realised that her mother hadn’t gone past her, which she would need to do in order to get to her room or the bathroom. Lottie backtracked. She opened Nana’s bedroom door to find Angie sitting on the bed.
Lottie was about to question her mother’s motives for going in there, but something about the posture of her body stopped her. ‘Are you okay?’ asked Lottie from the doorway.
Angie tipped her head up. ‘I’m not bonkers or anything, but I needed to check she wasn’t here.’ Angie chewed the inside of her mouth. ‘That is bonkers isn’t it?’
‘Yep. Totally nuts.’ Lottie went inside, shut the door and joined her on the bed. ‘But I know what you mean. It’s kind of unbelievable that she’s not here any more.’
Angie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Especially at Christmas.’ Lottie put her arm around her mother and reluctantly Angie let her hold her, briefly. She sniffed back the tears and pulled away.
‘I thought you hated the Christmas gathering,’ said Lottie.
‘I don’t hate it. I suppose I’m not its biggest fan, but who likes being told what to do?’
Lottie hadn’t really thought of it like that. ‘It’s tradition though.’
‘Tradition? Or not wanting to let things change?’ Angie fixed Lottie with a stare. She wasn’t sure if the comment was aimed at her or Nana.
‘There’s something reassuring about both. I like that Christmas is always here, and that we all know what happens when. It’s comforting.’
They sat in silence for a moment. ‘Does life worry you?’ asked Lottie. ‘Making decisions that could send you in a specific direction, but not knowing if it’s the right one.’
Angie gave her a quizzical look. ‘Old age worries me. I swear the hairs on my top lip are thickening.’ She leaned closer to Lottie so she could inspect them.
‘What am I looking at?’ asked Lottie, trying not to look too closely.
‘Am I getting a moustache?’
‘Don’t be daft … Hercule,’ said Lottie, and her mother gave her a light slap on the arm. ‘I’m joking. Of course you don’t look like Hercule Poirot. You look more like Aunt Pearl.’
‘Same moustache. Stop it. I’m thinking of spending some of my inheritance on having surgery.’
Lottie regarded her mother. She was an attractive woman who had worn well. Yes, there were some tell-tale wrinkles around her eyes and neck, but overall she looked incredible. ‘You look great for your age.’ Lottie studied her mother’s face. ‘I don’t think you should have any surgery.’
Angie looked shocked. ‘Not my face! Down there.’ She pointed between her thighs. ‘It’s meant to make sex even better. Not that we have a problem in that department. Although the last couple of days have been a bit sparse thanks to you stealing our batteries and relegating us to the bed from hell. I swear, every spring in that mattress has been imprinted on my—’
‘Stop!’ said Lottie, trying to block the unwanted pictures from her mind. She’d need extra-strength mind bleach to rid herself of those.
Angie looked taken aback. ‘I thought mothers and daughters were meant to share things like that?’
Lottie was shaking her head. ‘I don’t think so. We share enough already.’
‘Like what?’
‘Insults and a genetic predisposition to choose the wrong men. Let’s stick to those.’
‘Speak for yourself. My Scott is wonderful.’
‘I have to admit, he does seem nice.’ Lottie paused, then decided to say it. ‘Do something for me, Mum?’ Angie twitched but didn’t respond. ‘Be honest with him. He seems like a decent guy and I think you two could have something good together. And most importantly, I don’t want to have to look after you when you get old.’ Lottie said it with a smile so her mother would know she was joking.
Angie rolled her eyes and looked across at Nana’s dressing table. ‘I guess we need to think about sorting her things out.’
