‘Would you believe, he’s answering a load of questions to find out which rabbit he’d be if he was a character inWatership Down? I ask you!’
‘Oh, Dad!’ Alison couldn’t help but smile. After all his criticisms of other people using their phones too much he’d gone and fallen for that!
‘Cup of tea, love?’ Mam asked. ‘Or would you prefer coffee? Mind, I haven’t got one of them fancy machines like you have,’ she warned, as she did every time Alison visited.
‘Tea’s fine, but I’ll make it,’ Alison said, ignoring her mother’s protestations that she was perfectly capable.
‘Itwouldbe your right hand,’ she said, eyeing her mother worriedly as she reached for the teabags. ‘How are you managing, really?’
‘No problem at all,’ Mam said cheerfully. ‘I mean, it’s a bit tricky doing some things, but I’m getting the hang of it. When you think about it, it’s a blessing really. I’m learning to use my left hand after all these years. Never too late to learn a new skill.’
Trust her mother to look on the bright side, Alison thought, as she headed to the fridge for milk. You couldn’t keep her down for long. She wished she’d inherited a bit of her parents’ resilience.
Although not allowed to make the tea, Alison’s mam soon dug out the biscuits and insisted on carrying the tin into the living room. Alison put a mug on the nest of tables beside her dad’s chair just as he put his phone away with a sigh.
‘I’m Bigwig,’ he said. ‘Is that good?’
‘No idea,’ Mam replied. ‘I’ve never watched it.’
‘Don’t you know, Dad?’ Alison asked, amused.
‘How would I know? I’ve never watched it either.’
‘Not read the book?’ she asked cheekily.
He frowned. ‘Why would I read a book about bloody rabbits? I’m not six!’
‘Ignore him and have a custard cream,’ Mam said, reaching for a biscuit from the tin she’d brought in.
‘Aren’t we going for lunch in the pub in half an hour?’ Alison queried, checking the clock on the mantelpiece which said twelve thirty.
‘Yes, but I haven’t had any breakfast.’
‘Whyhaven’t you had any breakfast?’ Alarm bells were ringing already. Mam liked a breakfast. ‘Are you sure you’re managing? Rosie said?—’
‘Rosie’s been good as gold, bless her,’ Mam assured her. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, love. Everyone’s falling over themselves to help out: your auntie and uncle, Seb’s lad Sam. Anyway,’ she added dryly, ‘I’ve got your dad to look after me. What could possibly go wrong?’
‘I hope they’ve got the chicken and mushroom pie on,’ Dad said hopefully. ‘I do love a chicken and mushroom pie.’
‘See what I mean?’ Mam beamed at Alison. ‘Never mind him. How was your birthday?’
‘Oh, you know. I was working, so… Thanks for the card and the lovely necklace.’ She pulled gently at the chain around her neck, which had a gold coffee bean attached. ‘Very retro.’
‘Is it? I just saw the coffee bean and thought of you with your passion for that machine of yours.’
Alison stifled a smile. It was hardly a passion. She maybe used it four or five times a month. But she supposed the thought was there.
‘Rosie was so good to pop it all across to yours when you couldn’t make it last weekend. We were so disappointed.’
‘Sorry, Mam. I was working on Sunday, and on Saturday I had to ferry the girls around because Jenna and Joel were both busy.’
‘They work too hard,’ Mam said firmly. ‘And so do you, by the sound of it.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘How are Hallie and Ada? I haven’t seen them for weeks.’
‘Lively,’ Alison said wryly. ‘Too lively for you, especially with your broken arm.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly! We’d love to see more of them. You can bring them here every weekend, you know. We wouldn’t mind at all. Would we, Stan?’
Dad frowned. ‘Would we what?’
