Her phone buzzed on the countertop.
‘Aiden! Hello, lovey, how are you getting on?’
‘Yep, not bad, just checked in, no delays, so I reckon through baggage and whatnot by... I guess, sixish?’
‘Oh, that’s smashing! I’ll be in the usual spot.’ It was so convenient having a local airport that was familiar and not too busy. ‘Are you tired?’ It was always her concern, he worked hard and never seemed to slow down.
‘No, I’m good, I want to erm...’ He fell silent, which was odd and uncharacteristic.
‘You want to what?’ she asked, knowing him so well that she was overly aware of his hesitancy.
‘Nothing. Nothing, Mum.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Just...’
She listened, quietly, hoping her silence might help him gather his thoughts, spit out whatever it was he clearly wanted to say.
‘We’ll catch up on the drive home, maybe.’
‘I’ll look forward to that. Safe travels, love.’
‘Yep.’
And he was gone. Enya held the phone against her cheek for a short while, wondering what her boy might want to catch up about.
‘That was odd, he sounded a bit, don’t know really, just not himself.’ She spoke to Jonathan, who stared at her from the kitchen table. And as was the case since his untimely death, he said nothing.
Chapter Eight
With one eye on the clock, keen to leave on time, Enya wiped her hands on her jeans and put the lettuce in the salad crisper. Her phone buzzed with a text from Jenny.
For The Love Of God, Just Take The Goods, Don’t Let Her Bring Them Back Here! I Can’t Face Any More – We’re Drowning In Sugar. Why Can’t She Get A Different Hobby That’s Kinder To My Hips? Delete This Text Immediately!!!!!
Enya was about to re-read the message to try and make more sense of it when a knock on the door drew her from her thoughts. She dashed to open it.
‘Holly! Hello, sweetie. Cup of tea? I was just going to put the kettle on.’
The girl looked flawless, subtle make-up, a shiny, swinging ponytail and toned legs snug inside her leggings. ‘Ooh, yes please. I made these.’
She handed Enya a pale wooden tray lined with a red and white gingham cloth on top of which were piled generously sized, freshly baked blondies that smelled heavenly, and Jenny’s text suddenly became clear.
‘You clever old stick! They look gorgeous!’ And they did.
It was a skill Enya both envied and admired, the way the young woman took such care over everything she baked, everything she made. It wasn’t enough to whip up items that were moist, delicious and moreish, she would also set them on a cloth or in a basket with handwritten labels and flourishes of ribbon. Her knitted gifts too, always with a dinky label sewn into them, and delivered wrapped in brown paper and string that put her in mind of days gone by. It was beautiful and joyful and yet she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Holly had too much time on her hands. Not that she’d shared this with anyone other than Angela, who had sprayed her laughter and strawberry shortbread crumbs over the front of her dress at the very suggestion.
‘The girl wants a baby, then we’ll see who’s got time for bloody knitting and titting about, she’d be too busy wiping arses, mashing carrots and crying from a lack of sleep!’
‘Sounds like you might be wishing that upon her, Angela. Do I need to remind you we are talking about our little Holly Hudson, who we love dearly? And besides, Aiden has mentioned in the past that babies won’t be on the agenda for a good few years.’
She had felt torn by the revelation, excited at the prospect of grannyhood, especially as it was a road she’d be travelling with Jenny, but also a little relieved that her son was giving himself time to get his life in order, to establish himself, hoping that in these discovery years, he and Holly would find some parity and that the beloved girl would settle down and show the streaks of independence that Enya knew were vital for resilience.
‘Do I need to remind you that it was you who started it?’ Angela had shoved the remainder of Holly’s home-made shortbread into her mouth.
Enya smiled now to think of her sister, hoping she and Frank were having a better time on their break. The last time they’dspoken, it had all sounded a little fraught. A month was a long time to be holed up with their parents, even for Angela, the angel.
‘They’re Aiden’s favourites!’ Holly slipped off her Birkenstocks and Enya was grateful. ‘I’ve missed him so much!’
‘Well, I’ve just put the phone down on him. He sounded tired, but said his flight was on time. I’ll pick him up about sixish.’
‘He didn’t callme...’ Holly stared into the middle distance, as if it might be the end of the world. ‘I would have gone to get him, but I’ve got this Insta Live thing and it’s been arranged for weeks. I’m going to do it from your kitchen where the light is good, if that’s okay?’
