Cynthia nodded. Hayley watched the woman toying with her hands as they rested in her lap. She seemed nervous.
‘So, I’ve asked you here today to say thank you,’ Cynthia began.
Hayley swallowed. Was she serious? A thank you hadn’t figured in any of the possible scenarios she’d thought up. This was the very last thing she’d expected.
‘I have to admit, the moment I set eyes on what you did in this room…’ She paused, so many emotions present in her expression. ‘Well, I didn’t see it for what it was right away.’
‘I apologise… I’m new at the company. It was my very first Diana. In fact, it was my very first anything at all—’ Hayley began.
‘And my name isn’t Charlotte,’ Angel blurted out.
Cynthia burst out laughing then, leaning forward in her chair, her hands on her knees, her chest vibrating with sound.
Now Hayley felt uneasy, like Ant and Dec were about to burst out and declare she was the victim of aSaturday Night Takeawayprank. She swallowed.
Cynthia smiled. ‘All these years I’ve had Majestic Cleaning, no one has turned my living room into exactly that – alivingroom.’ She drew in a breath. ‘It was just what I needed at exactly the right time.’
Hayley was still unsure what to say.
‘I’ve been not living for so long, I’d almost forgotten what it was all about, what’s most important.’
‘I love the Christmas trees,’ Angel said, jumping up from the sofa and going over to the tree by the fire.
‘Me too,’ Cynthia answered, smiling.
‘I don’t really understand,’ Hayley admitted.
‘I lost my husband not so long ago, and my son.’
Hayley felt the woman’s grief thicken the air between them.
‘But you can’t mourn forever or else mourning is the only connection you have with the people you’ve lost.’ Cynthia stood then, moving to the mantelpiece and picking up a framed photo. ‘They were both such life-loving, vibrant characters. They would hate the fact that I’ve been moping around here just because my other son won’t move on.’ Cynthia showed Angel the photo she was holding.
‘That’s my husband there. Handsome, wasn’t he?’
‘He’scute,’ Angel said, pointing at another person in the picture.
‘Ah, that’s my son, the one who passed away.’
‘And that one?’ Angel asked.
‘That’s Oliver, my other son. He’s the stubborn one.’
Hayley watched Angel’s eyes go out on stalks as she turned to face her. Her daughter mouthed ‘Mr Meanie’ and Hayley stood up, nudging the coffee table with her leg and making the cups roll together and chink.
‘Oliver Drummond?’ Hayley was taking the photo from Cynthia’s hand before she was truly aware of it.
Cynthia was Cynthia Drummond, Oliver’s mother. The people in the photo were Oliver’s father and his brother, the two people he’d talked so passionately about last night. She swallowed. Suddenly, being here had taken on a different dimension entirely.
‘I’m not surprised you’ve heard of him. That article in the news yesterday…’ Cynthia shook her head.
‘My uncle works for him,’ Angel said.
‘Angel—’ Hayley began.
‘Angel? Is that your real name?’ Cynthia smiled. ‘It’s very pretty.’
‘My uncle is in charge of the Globe,’ Angel continued, grinning.
