Yet, there’s something about her face that reminds me of Charlie.
‘I’m just going to hang up the washing,’ Pat says, walking out of the room with the washing basket.
Feelings check: still not annoyed.
Bizarre.
Charlie comes back at three o’clock and I turn off my music, interested to hear how he interacts with his mother.
‘The head came in and the caretaker was there, too.’ It sounds like he’s telling her about the job.
‘And were they happy with everything?’ she demands to know.
‘I think so.’
‘Of course they were,’ she replies, haughtily. ‘How could they not be? Your work isstunning.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ he says in a low, amused voice. ‘Is Bridget okay?’ His question carries right up the stairs.
‘Yes, she is. She seems nice.’
Her voice grows quieter as they head into the kitchen – I don’t hear Charlie’s reply.
About an hour later, there’s a knock on my door.
‘Hello,’ I call.
I’m not expecting Pat.
‘You might be gone by the time I get back,’ she says. ‘So I just wanted to give you this.’ She hands over a Post-it note with her phone number on it. ‘And to wish you a good weekend,’ she adds.
‘Thanks, you too.’
‘Any plans?’ she asks keenly, hovering by the door.
I shrug. ‘I might go and check out the Lost Gardens of Heligan, do some exploring.’
‘Oh, wonderful,’ she says.
‘How about you?’
‘My other son, Adam, is arriving back from India this evening, so I’m cooking the boys an early dinner. I’m just nipping off to the supermarket to do some shopping.’
‘How long has he been away?’
‘Four months. He’s been teaching English to local children. I can’twaitto see him!’
It wouldn’t surprise me if she started clapping and jumping up and down on the spot.
‘Aw, have a great time,’ I say. ‘I’m sure I’ll see you soon.’
‘Oh, you will,’ she agrees. ‘But, until then, you have my number.’
She nods at the Post-it note I’m holding.
‘Thank you,’ I reply. I still think I’m unlikely to ever use it.
When she’s gone, I go downstairs to get a drink.
