‘How’s Jenna doing?’ Elaine asked, after taking a polite sip of her white wine. ‘Well, I hope?’
‘Busy,’ Alison said. ‘New term. Back in the thick of it.’
‘And Joel?’
‘Oh, he’s busy too,’ she admitted. ‘It seems he’s determined to end up running the world. He’s always off doing some training course or other.’
‘I expect they just want what’s best for the girls,’ Mam said comfortingly.
‘Mm.’ Alison wondered what, exactly,wasbest for the girls. Surely having their parents at home a bit more would be preferable to finding out that their dad had got another promotion and their mum was hitting all her targets? What about their responsibilities to their daughters? She knew it was hard for modern parents and had every sympathy, but sometimes she felt that Joel and Jenna deliberately looked for reasons not to be available for the twins, although she’d never say so to her extended family. Well, except Rosie, but she didn’t count.
‘Our Niall and Kendra manage their family life so well,’ Elaine said proudly. ‘Being a vicar is such a demanding role. Niall is on call practically all the time. And of course, Kendra has her counselling work, even though she’s an exceptional vicar’s wife and takes that duty very seriously. I honestly don’t know how they balance everything, but they do it somehow.’
‘Lucky Niall and Kendra,’ Alison murmured. Christopher gave her a sympathetic look, and she blushed, mortified that he’d heard her, though at least he seemed to understand.
‘How’s your arm today, Cherry?’ he asked Mam, who held up the limb in question so they could all examine it to their satisfaction.
‘Not too bad,’ she told him. ‘I’m getting quite good at using my left hand – well, for some things anyway. Mind you, Stan’s had to help me out a bit, haven’t you, love? I’ve had to ask him to do things for me that no husband should have to do for a wife. By heck, the things you’ve seen lately, eh, Stan?’
Rosie spat her cider back into her glass as Elaine groaned, ‘Oh, Cherry, must you? We’re about to eat.’
As if on cue, Briar, a young woman from the village who was currently working for Sam, delivered the first of the meals to their table.
‘Thanks, love,’ Mam said cheerfully, as a plate of scampi and chips was put in front of her. ‘How are you doing? And how’s your mam?’
‘All right, thanks, Mrs Wainwright,’ Briar said. ‘Her op went fine and she’s coming out of hospital tomorrow, all being well. I told her about your fall, and she said to send you her love when I saw you.’
‘Aw, tell her thank you. Glad her operation went okay. You tell her from me to take it easy when she gets home.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Mam’s never been one for doing anything else, has she?’ Briar said with a grin. She put the last of the plates on the table and hurried off to get the rest of the meals.
‘What happened to her mam?’ Alison queried, reaching for the salt. She knew Mrs Chambers well and hadn’t heard she’d been ill.
‘Women’s things. A bit of lifting up and tucking in, I expect. Certain things end up where they shouldn’t when you get to her age.’
Elaine gave her a pained look. ‘Cherry! We’re eating!’
‘Yours hasn’t even arrived yet,’ Mam pointed out indignantly. ‘Ooh, did I tell you about Sheila MacMillan, Alison?’
‘You mean that she died?’ Alison asked. ‘Yes, you told me before Christmas.’ She gave her mother an anxious look. Was she getting forgetful or something?
‘Not that she died, you daft ha’p’orth! About her will.’
Elaine forgot that she was annoyed with her sister-in-law and leaned forward eagerly. ‘Ooh, yes. I heard all about that, too. Stella’s furious, apparently.’
‘What’s this about?’ Rosie asked, agog. ‘What have I missed?’
‘Well, you know everyone assumed that she’d have left Watersmeet to both her children? She didn’t. She left it all to Ian.’ Mam turned to Alison, her eyes bright. ‘Do you remember Ian, love? He was in your class at primary school. Left here years ago.’
Alison knew who she meant. A brown-haired boy who always looked immaculate and had a penchant for trying to show her up.
‘He was a proper goody-two-shoes,’ she told Rosie, who was digging into her roast beef, despite her mother’s pained expression which made it clear she felt her daughter should wait for everyone to be served.
‘Aw, don’t say that,’ Mam rebuked her. ‘He was a lovely little boy. Ever so bonny.’
Rosie pulled a face and mouthed, ‘Bonny?’
Alison grinned. ‘He used to get picked on cos he had a posh satchel when the rest of us had them cheap cloth bags. It had his name written on it on a little card in the front pocket. He was a Cub. And a Boy Scout.’
