Angel plumped herself down onto the cover, crossing her legs underneath her body in a show of flexibility to rival an experienced Pilates class attendee. ‘You should get a new diary.’
‘What for? There’s nothing wrong with the one I have.’ The one she hoped to God Angel hadn’t been reading. Along with the random sentences of life events she’d been writing in there thisyear, there were nine other years, including the very beginnings of Angel’s existence. And it wasthoseentries that were the most controversial, as well as being the most helpful when she had been researching their upcoming trip.
‘You should bring your ideas book then. The one with all your drawings and designs and the bits of material in,’ Angel suggested.
Her ideas book.She’d had so few ideas lately, she’d turned the back of the book into notes for her party-planning exploits. Most people wanted the packages set out on the website but occasionally, every now and then, someone would ask for something a bit different and then she pounced on it, like a hungry lion who’d been starved for an age.
‘What would I need that for?’ She swallowed.
‘To note down all those designs you give people.’ Angel smiled. ‘Like that woman in McDonald’s. Imaginary scarves.’ She wafted a hand in the air. ‘Berets and buckles. There’s going to be so much inspiration in New York.’
Hayley smiled, enjoying Angel’s enthusiasm. ‘You’re changing the subject, young lady, when we’re meant to be getting ready for our trip,’ Hayley reached out her fingers and nudged Angel’s ribs, tickling.
‘Stop it!’ Angel squealed.
‘Sorry, didn’t hear that.’
‘Mum!’ Angel screeched, falling backwards on the bed and trying to get away from the attack. ‘You’ll make Nanny come up here and you know she doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s watchingCoronation Street.’
Hayley removed her hands with the speed of a mousetrap mechanism. The last thing she needed was her mother on the warpath.
Her eyes went from Angel to the thick book laying on the bed. She picked it up and opened it.
‘Ah, here’s a word I might need to get familiar with.’ Hayley cleared her throat. ‘Bodega – a cellar or shop selling wine and food, especially in a Spanish-speaking country.’
Angel snapped the dictionary shut and claimed it back. ‘I hope we’re not going to spend all our time searching for fizzy white wine.’
‘No, once we’ve established our local seller, we’ll be loyal.’
Angel crossed her legs again, placing the dictionary in the middle of her lap and fixing her eyes on Hayley. ‘Do you think Nanny will be OK on her own at Christmas?’
There was deep sincerity in the question. Angel loved Rita. She was the only other person who had always been there for her. And shehadbeen there. In body, if not in spirit.
Rita wasn’t coming because she had a hospital appointment on Christmas Eve. She’d been waiting over six months to see one particular consultant about her ongoing arthritis that she didn’t dare reschedule. Hayley felt guilty for two reasons. The first was that perhaps she should be here to take Rita to the appointment and the second was that it had been a perfect excuse to not invite her on the trip. She swallowed as the last thought hit home.
Hayley put her arm around her daughter and drew her into her body, kissing the top of her head. ‘I think Nanny is going to be just fine on her own. Haven’t you seen the salmon head in the freezer? And she’s hidden Bendicks at the back of the larder.’
‘Are those the minty dark chocolates?’
‘Yeah, the ones she usually keeps by the side of her chair under deep security at Christmas.’
‘If I have more than three, they make my mouth spicy.’
‘Reasons Christmas is going to be better in New York number forty-nine: not having to share chocolates with Nanny.’
‘But we will have to share them with Uncle Dean, Vernon and Randy.’
‘Are you sure Randy’s a dog?’
‘Yes…’ Angel paused. ‘Well, I heard something barking in the background on Skype. And there was definitely a leather collar on the coat rack behind Uncle Dean.’
Hayley swallowed. ‘Dogs are allergic to chocolate,’ she said quickly. ‘Just like Nanny’s allergic to clothes from the charity shop.’
Angel let out a sigh. ‘Nanny’s a good person. She’s just different to you, that’s all.’
That simple sentence from the lips of her offspring cut deep. Because it was the truth. Her mother wasn’t an ogre. She hadn’t beaten her, or deprived her of material needs; she just hadn’t ever been spontaneous with emotion. That didn’t make her bad. They were just opposites.
‘Sorry,’ Hayley said in little more than a whisper.
