‘I’ve been to the doctor’s,’ Alison admitted, wondering why she’d shared that information. It would have been much easier to say that the traffic had been bad. She put her own mug of tea on a coaster with shaking hands.
Rosie’s expression changed to one of concern. ‘Are you all right? Nothing’s wrong, is it?’
‘No, honestly. Everything’s fine. Well…’ Alison blinked away sudden tears. ‘I mean, I think it is. Mostly.’
She turned away and rummaged in the cupboard. ‘Cake?’
‘Always,’ Rosie confirmed. ‘But what aren’t you telling me, Ali?’
Alison carried two small plates, each holding a slice of cake and a fork, and placed them carefully on the table before taking a seat next to Rosie.
‘I swear, it’s nothing. Just a routine health check with it being my birthday month.’ Her eyes drifted to the carrier bag that Rosie had propped against her chair leg, and, without warning, she burst into tears.
‘Oh, God!’ Rosie put her arm around Alison’s shoulders and pulled her closer. ‘What is it? What’s happened? You can tell me, you know. Mind my cake,’ she added, hastily nudging the plate away as Alison’s elbow moved scarily close to her precious Victoria sponge. ‘What did the doctor say?’
‘It was the nurse,’ Alison said with a sniff. ‘It’s not about that anyway. Well, not really. My blood pressure was up a bit, and I’ve gained another seven pounds since I last got weighed and I got told off like I was a naughty kid.’
Rosie nodded wisely. ‘They’re trained to talk to you like that, you know. Did she call you poppet? I’d have had words if she did.’
Through her tears, Alison couldn’t help but laugh. ‘No. She was really nice, to be fair. It’s me. I feel so washed up. I’m sixty-two!’
‘I know,’ Rosie said. ‘It was your birthday the other day, remember? Are you going to open your cards or are you going to cry all over your cake? Cos that’s a crime, if you ask me. It looks ever so nice.’ She gazed longingly at her plate. ‘Can I stop hugging you now? I’m starving.’
She gave Alison a wink.
Alison shook her head. ‘What are we like? Yeah, let’s have the cake. Although I shouldn’t by rights. The nurse would have a fit.’
‘Oh bugger it,’ Rosie said. She ignored the fork and picked the cake up in her hands, taking a big bite and chewing blissfully. ‘Mm, mm, this is gorgeous,’ she managed eventually. ‘M&S?’
‘Maister’s,’ Alison told her. She scooped some cake up on her fork and began to tuck in. Sod her blood pressure.
‘So,’ Rosie said, a few minutes later when the cake had been safely devoured, ‘what’s with the tears?’ She licked her fingers and sighed. ‘I must pop into Maister’s on the way home.’
‘I was just being stupid,’ Alison told her. She reached over and opened the kitchen drawer. ‘Here, have a baby wipe.’
‘Trust you to have baby wipes handy. You’re so organised.’ Rosie wiped her hands gratefully. ‘Thanks, love.’
‘I don’t feel very organised,’ Alison admitted. ‘I feel as if everything’s falling apart, to be honest. Me most of all.’
‘Just because you’ve turned sixty-two? It’s only a number. I don’t remember you getting all upset about turning sixty, and surely that was a bigger deal?’
‘I’m on the fast lane to seventy now,’ Alison said bleakly. ‘It’s all downhill from now on.’
‘It’s all downhill from twenty-nine, if you ask me,’ Rosie said with a shrug. ‘You can’t let it bother you. What does it matter? At least we’re alive.’
Alison sighed. ‘I’ve got a whisker on my chin,’ she admitted at last. ‘One wiry dark whisker. I keep having to pluck it out.’
Rosie giggled.
‘It’s not funny. What if it’s just the first? I’ll end up looking like Father Christmas!’
‘Not if your whiskers are dark. You might end up looking like Hagrid, though.’
‘Thanks for that.’
‘What’s really bothering you?’ Rosie queried.
‘Life,’ Alison said with another, heavier sigh. ‘I often wonder what Drew would think of me wasting it away like this.’
