‘Just three teas, please,’ Mam said.
‘By, I’ll never make my fortune with you three, will I?’
‘I thought you’d be busier now,’ Rosie said, ‘what with Tide’s Reach being open again and the birdwatchers and hikers out and about.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. You should have been here earlier. Couldn’t move in here for people wanting cooked breakfasts, and they’d no sooner gone than the lunchtime crowd arrived. Trouble is, I don’t have enough tables. I could do to expand through there, but that would mean losing the shop, and we need a shop, don’t we? God knows, we’ve lost everything else here.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, that’s a worry for another day. Three teas coming right up.’
The moment she’d moved away, Alison’s mother leaned forward, her face bright with delight. ‘So, this text message. Is it Ian? I mean, Mac? Go on, you can tell me. I promise I won’t say a word to your father. We all know how he loves to gossip.’
Dad? He’s the last one to gossip. It’s you I’m worried about.
Alison glanced around the cafe then leaned forward, her arms folded on the table. ‘It’s nothing much. He’s invited me round for tea tomorrow night, that’s all.’
Rosie wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, is that it? Well, nothing new about that. He’s always inviting you round for tea.’
‘Yes, but usually I’m helping him make it. He says he’s cooking, and he wants me to arrive just in time for him to dish out so I don’t get caught up in the prep, and… and he said he wants to talk to me about something.’
‘OMG!’ Rosie squealed and clapped her hands.
‘You know,’ Mam said thoughtfully, ‘you’d never believe you’re forty-three, our Rosie.’
‘Thanks, Auntie Cherry.’ Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘Did you not hear what Ali just said? Mac’s invited her round for dinner and he’s got something he wants to talk to her about.’
‘Yes, I broke my arm, not my eardrums,’ Mam said with a tut. ‘Now, Alison,’ she said, turning to her daughter with an earnest expression on her face, ‘you need to be ready. When a man says he wants to talk to you about something it quite often means one thing – and it’s not a proposal of marriage. It’s manspeak. They have their own language, you know. A sort of code that we’re expected to understand. It could be that what Ian really wants?—’
‘Mac,’ Alison interrupted automatically.
‘All right, all right,’ said her mother, with an impatient wave of her mended arm. ‘It could be that whatMacreally wants is a bit of how’s-your-father.’
‘How’s-your-father?’ Rosie bit her lip and gave Alison a sly look.
‘Rumpy-pumpy,’ Alison’s mother explained.
Rosie shrugged, her eyes wide with innocence. ‘Sorry, Auntie Cherry. I’m not following.’
Alison averted her gaze as her mother sighed with exasperation and said, ‘You know! A bit of the other. Getting his leg over.’
Rosie threw up her hands. ‘I’m sorry, I just don’t know what you mean.’
‘For goodness’ sake! Sexual intercourse!’
‘Auntie Cherry!’
‘Mother! Wash your mouth out with soap,’ Alison commanded, as she and Rosie burst out laughing and her mam gave them an indignant look.
‘Oh, I see. You were having me on. Well, you can joke all you like but it’s a serious business. Now, Mac is a lovely young lad?—’
‘Of sixty-two,’ Rosie mumbled.
‘And I have every respect for him, but the fact remains he’s a man, and men have needs. It’s as well to be prepared.’
‘Don’t worry, Mam,’ Alison said sweetly, ‘I won’t let him touch me.’
‘What? Are you insane?’
Alison stared at her. ‘You said I should be prepared!’
‘Yes, and so you should! Put your best bra and pants on, and for goodness’ sake, shave your legs. And take a toothbrush in case he wants you to stay over, because you don’t want to put him off you before you’ve even got started, especially since you don’t know what he’ll be cooking. And if there’s garlic bread on offer, avoid, avoid, avoid, and make bloody sure it goes in the bin before he can eat any.’
