‘The garden looks tidy, Mum.’
‘Yes. I can’t take the credit for that. It’s a bit wet for mowing, so your brother just gave it a bit of a strim on the edges and sorted out the old pots that were out there. He’s popped some rhubarb in the top corner, too, and I’m looking forward to getting some sweet peas out there this year.’
‘It’s great that you’re getting organised again, Mum. You used to love your garden.’
‘Yes, yes, well… with Albie helping, it makes it a bit easier. He’s paying off his national debt, as he calls it. He came over with Lisa and her boys and they helped me put the bed back upstairs, too. I can start using the dining room table again for my jigsaws. Looked like an old people’s home in there before – it’s much better now.’
Vic was feeling quite shocked at the huge transformation of her mother in such a brief time.
‘Have you met her, Vic? Lisa, I mean. She’s a lovely girl, that one.’
Vic didn’t want to spoil the moment and convey that of course she’d met Lisa – once here, even, when they’d all had a Sunday lunch together – so just replied with a quick, ‘Yes, yes, I have.’
She opened the packet of biscuits as her mum filled the teapot with boiling water. ‘I know what I meant to ask you: who helped you get the bed downstairs before, Mum?’
Kath Sharpe took off her apron and threw it in the washing machine too. ‘It was Albie, wasn’t it? I think but…’ Kath sighed. ‘OK. Hands up. I’m ashamed to say I have no recollection of it happening.’
They moved through to the living room, which, Vic noticed, with a dart of pride, was also clutter-free, with not a spot of dust in sight. Chandler jumped up on the sofa next to Kath and snuggled into her ample thighs.
‘So, how’s work, love?’
‘It’s all right, thanks.’ Vic laid her head back on the armchair. It had been lovely to have a couple of weeks off in January, and she had gone back to Glovers with renewed vigour – and a plan. She had also put her thousand-pound bonus in a high-interest account and was saving as much money as she could afford so that, when the time was right, she would at least have some behind her when she started to make a plan with her art. She found that when her mind was cluttered and worried, she couldn’t release her full creativity, and she was in that kind of mental state at the moment.
‘You look tired, darling. Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘I’m fine,Mum. I promise.’
‘So are you here for the weekend, or is it just a flying visit?’
‘Until tomorrow night, if you’ll both have me?’ Vic looked at Chandler, who was now lightly snoring.
‘We’ll do better than that. How about a nice home-made lasagne for our dinner? And I’ve got some rhubarb in the freezer – I could do a crumble, too. Your favourites.’
Vic felt herself welling up. ‘That’ll be really lovely, Mum.’
‘Good. Good.’ Kath Sharpe took a big slurp of her tea, then released her hair from the bobble that had been tying it back and gave her head a shake.
‘Wow. You’ve had your hair cut.’ Vic took in her mum’s new shoulder-length bob, which had been coloured deep brown to cover the greys. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t notice it straight away. It’s lovely, and that colour really suits you.’
Kath Sharpe patted her head. ‘Thanks, love. I did an extra few hours for the Overton-Hattons, so Sally Jenkins – you know, who used to come here and do it – well, I called her up. I found a pair of your old straighteners in the back cupboard, so used those on it the other day, too. Hark at me with my “new hair, don’t care” attitude.’ Kath Sharpe grinned.
‘Hark at you.’ Vic smiled, delighting in Kath’s happiness, but also feeling distinctly perplexed at her mother’s new-found positive attitude, which had seemingly come out of nowhere.
She thought back to a conversation with Joti, about it taking something big to even get her mother to think about stopping drinking. But whatever she was thinking, Victoria Sharpe certainly wasn’t going to either question or comment on the matter. Instead, as she had done on many other occasions, she would just quietly take in and enjoy this long-awaited moment of sobriety. And pray that, this time, it would last.
‘Hello, Vicki. How are you?’ Joti was on her kneesrefilling an outdoor pot with soil as Vic came out of the door to take Chandler for a walk along the river.
‘I’m all right, thanks. It’s a bit early for bedding plants, isn’t it?’
‘Just repotting a rose. Your brother kindly strimmed the grass out here last week, so I wanted to get it looking nice, ready for spring. He’s quite the charmer, isn’t he? I meant to ask you, what age is he? Mid-twenties, I guessed?’
‘Charming when he wants something, usually.’ Vic smiled. ‘And don’t let that babyface fool you, he was thirty last birthday. I hope he didn’t ask you for money.’
‘No – said he worked for beer, so I will get him some cans for next time I see him.’ Joti rubbed her hands together to clean them of earth and stood up.
‘He must like you, then.’ Vic shook her head at the cheek of her brother asking for anything. Joti blushed. But cheek aside, if he’d asked for beer over money, maybe he had tried to put the brakes on the gambling, and for this Vic was incredibly happy.
‘Let me just change my coat and wash my hands and I’ll come with you for a walk – I assume that’s where you’re going.’ Joti was slightly hesitant. ‘If you don’t mind, of course.’
