We’d agreed that he’d join us for an early dinner. That it might be best if we spent as little time together as possible, at least while she’s here. Bad enough that I have to lie to her at all without the added pressure of needing to curb my reactions to Beckett.
‘What’s his name again?’
‘Beckett,’ I say for the fourth time. She’s not dotty. Just playing the old lady game today. Hell, if I get to ninety-two, I’ll play it, too.
Once at the hotel, we make our way into the Astor Court, the St Regis’ home of fine dining.Apparently. With cream walls, gold accents, and Romanesque frescos, the place isn’t exactly understated.
‘My, that’s enough to put you off your dinner,’ she announces rather loudly as we pass a large mural, and she slows to a stop. ‘Look at the face he’s pulling.’ I give it a cursory glance as she continues. ‘He looks like he’s got wind. He’s proper grimacing. I hope that’s not prophetic.’
‘Come on, Gran.’ I link her arm around my forearm, hoping to encourage her to move along. ‘Maybe you should switch your hearing aid on.’
‘What?’
‘I said—’
‘I heard what you said, I was just teasing, love.’
‘The food here is great,’ I choose to answer. ‘Let’s order a tea, or maybe a sherry.’
‘Oh, now you’re talking.’ And thankfully, she begins to move away.
I’d ordered our afternoon tea prior to her arrival, mainly to avoid her seeing the prices on the menu. People of her generation are generally known for their frugal ways, born from the necessity of having to make every penny count. Gran is reasonably wealthy, but that hasn’t changed anything. Add to that, Yorkshire folk are renowned for their thrifty ways. Legend has it, according to my gran, copper wire was invented by two Yorkshiremen fighting over a penny.
In her world, clothes are bought for quality and durability, patched and mended when the need arises, before being repurposed when a garment reaches the end of its life. Zippers are saved in a container, and squares of fabric allocated to thecupboard under the sinkto be used as dusters and all manner of things. Bread wrappers become freezer bags, fruits are preserved, and dishes are always hand washed. A cardigan is donned rather than the heating switched on, and heaven forbid you squeeze the toothpaste wrong.
‘It’s lovely, is this,’ Gran murmurs, her eyes darting around the airy space. ‘And this is a lovely spread.’ She points at the delicate cake stand and the tiny offerings decorating the plate. ‘I’ll never eat it all. I should ask them for a bag to put some of it in.’
‘But you’re flying back tonight, aren’t you?’
‘Aye, this is just a quick visit. Your fella said he’d book me a room, but I like to sleep in my own bed. It’s only an hour by aeroplane,’ she says softly. ‘I’ve been on longer bus rides than that.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘So why don’t we just get to it, lass. You tell me why you’ve married this fella. This fella I know nothing about.’
‘What’s to tell?’ I feed my finger through the delicate handle on my cup and raise it to my mouth. ‘We fell in love.’ As a sudden afterthought, I add, ‘Really quickly.’
‘I’ll say.’
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘In London. At work.’
‘He doesn’t work for you, does he?’
I laugh. It sounds unpleasant, and before I can bite the words back, I find myself saying, ‘I’d probably kill him.’
Gran makes a noise. That noise—you know the one that says “interesting” without having to use the word. ‘Married for a couple of days, and you already want to kill him?’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘It’s exactly like that,’ a deep and familiar voice says from behind me.
Beckett.
I turn my head, but he’s already bending to kiss my cheek. ‘Hello, darling.’
Chapter 26
