“Why don’t you invite her for supper?”
“What?”
Laura had come back to her house to find Daniel home, but sleeping. Now they were all seated around the large table for dinner, and the three of them seemed to tip it back down and keep it afloat. Neither she nor Howard had mentioned Saturday night’s little scene, but enough time had passed for it to have drifted away from them. Neither brought it up.
“Your mother’s dying to know more about her.”
Laura ignored him. She noticed he didn’t ever read the paper when Daniel was home.
“We want to meet her! Don’twe,Howard?”
“Sure,” deadpanned Howard.
Daniel laughed. “Already? I’ve not even been seeing her a week.”
“It’s not me putting the pressure on,” said Howard.
Laura resisted the urge to huff. “Howard, if you want to seeyour son this summer, I would recommend a little more enthusiasm. He’s already blown us off once, remember.”
“Am I in trouble over that?” asked Daniel.
“Terrible trouble,” said Laura. “And I have a feeling you might be seeing a lot more of Cherry this summer, and so before you both disappear into some”—she sighed wistfully—“blissful bubble, it would be nice to meet her.”
Daniel nodded. “You make a good point.”
“Call her now.”
“Now? What’s the rush?”
“I need to be able to plan. Why don’t we say Thursday? Six-thirty?”
Laura wasn’t entirely sure why she was pushing it so much. She knew she was unlikely to see Daniel as much as she’d hoped over the summer. As much as she’d been looking forward to it, she was accepting of the circumstances. Grown sons have their own agendas. But something made her want to get to know Cherry before they disappeared.
Daniel was on the phone. He covered the mouthpiece. “She can’t do Thursday. . . .”
Laura thought quickly. “Friday, then?”
This was passed down the line and seemed to hit success. “Call you again later,” Daniel said softly, then hung up.
“She’d love to come.”
Laura smiled. She was surprised by how much she was looking forward to it.
6
Thursday, June 12
EVERY TIME CHERRY WENT TO VISIT HER MOTHER, SHE RESOLVEDthat this time she would be different. She would be open, friendly, relaxed. She would talk to her without snapping and without feeling panicked, trapped by all the things that reminded her of her penniless childhood. It wasn’t her mum’s fault that they’d had no money all those years, but as soon as she was let into the small two-bedroom flat, it seemed to suck out all her good intentions. The large-screen TV too big for the room; the fluffy rug in the middle of the living-room floor; the horrible tilting sofa; the oversized tin of second-rate chocolates on the side, open for guests. Cherry knew that Wendy, her mum, valued these little perks from the supermarket. She always had firsthand knowledge of all the deals; she said they’d saved her a fortune over the years. Cherry hated supermarkets and hated their “deals” even more. The trash they encouraged you to buy and fill your house with. The markets bled people of every bit of their deficient wages they could trick them out of, dressing the deals up as some comradely arm about the shoulders:“We’re on your side, we know how you feel, times are tough.”But all the time, they were piling up huge profits. At an average of £10 each, her mum’s DVD collection was worth two grand. Correction—it hadcosttwo grand, it was probably worth acouple of hundred quid, if that. It frustrated Cherry that her mum never stopped to work it out.
“But that’s a classic,” Wendy had said at the new addition ofThe King’s Speech.
“It’s a piece of plastic in your living room. How often do you even watch it?”
Owning a classic didn’t make you more of a film buff, didn’t mean that you were erudite or give you an eye for quality. It made you a mug, especially when you could watch the same movie on TV or borrow it from the library. It didn’t ever occur to Cherry that her mum might actually enjoy watching the DVDs, might even be grateful for them as she spent most evenings when she wasn’t working alone. She’d never found someone that lasted after Cherry’s father had died.
She kissed her mum chastely, trying to avoid the usual bear hug and lipstick brand on her cheek.
“Mum!”
