“You mean she’s back?” I asked, the uncharitable part of me relieved to know I wasn’t the only one with problems. “So soon?” It didn’t seem two minutes since she’d left.
Annie despaired. “Oh, she’s back all right.”
“Oh dear.” Despite my own dilemma, I sympathised. Since her daughter moved out, Annie hadn’t just grown accustomed to having her own space, she’d enjoyed the new sense of calm that came with it. Her home had gone from never having a dull moment, to it becoming her own little sanctuary.
“You can say that again,” Annie replied. “She landed this afternoon, suitcase in hand.” She scoffed. “Tell me again why I didn’t change the locks while I had the chance.”
“Poor Josh,” I said, thinking of Emma’s boyfriend. “He must be devastated.”
“Never mind poor Josh. What about me?”
I smiled, knowing my friend didn’t mean that. Annie had always been one of life’s carers. If someone was celebrating, she’d celebrate with them. If someone was upset, she’d be upset for them. And if someone needed help, she’d go all-out to assist.
“No, that’s not fair,” she said, proving my point. “The poor lad’s as distressed as I am. But that’s what you get when you try to do something nice for my daughter.”
When it came to Emma, I wasn’t surprised to hear that whatever Josh had done, his efforts had backfired. With Emma’s track record, the wordsmountainandmolehillsprang to mind. She had a talent for creating a palaver over nothing. Not that I’d ever said that out loud. Out of respect for Annie, it was a view I’d kept to myself.
Annie let out a long drawn-out sigh. “As if I don’t have enough to think about right now, she goes and does this to me. And I was so looking forward to Christmas at her house,” she said.
I stared at my laptop, still reeling over my cancelled holiday. “I was looking forward to Christmas too,” I replied.
Annie chuckled. “You sound as miserable as I do?”
I hadn’t meant to moan. Annie clearly had enough problems with Emma, without me dumping on her as well. “Not at all,” I said, trying to sound perkier. “It’s nothing I can’t figure out.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” she asked.
Annie always did know me well. “I’m sorry, Annie,” I said, realising there was no point pretending. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
I sighed. Images of white sandy beaches, deep blue seas, and golden sunshine flitted through my head. I saw balmy evenings where I sipped cocktails from coconut shells, the blissful rhythm of calypso music playing in the background. I thought about my packed suitcase, zipped up and airport-ready. “I’m not going to the Caribbean. Jeremy cancelled the whole thing.”
“You’re joking.” Annie’s voice oozed compassion. “Oh, Holly, I’m so sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am,” I said. “He didn’t even have the grace to tell me.”
“The bastard! And there’s me wittering on about my daughter.”
“Don’t be daft.” I recalled all the support Annie had given after Jeremy’s departure. “You’ve listened to me talk about my problems enough times.”
“So, we’re both up shit creek then?” Annie said, as if resigned.
“What do you mean?” I asked, wondering if there was more going on than she’d said.
“That you’re not the only one with man troubles. It’s not just Emma’s living arrangements that are concerning me.”
“Since when?” I said. That was news to me. I’d known Annie for years and never seen her as much as look at a chap.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s not what you think,” she said, as if reading my mind. “As I still need to get away from that daughter of mine, why don’t I tell you when I see you? Pub? Half an hour?”
Usually, I’d have jumped at the chance of a night on the town but needing to figure out what to do about Christmas I wasn’t convinced that was the best way to get my head around things.
“I’ll give you my shoulder to cry on, if you give me yours?” Annie said, in response to my silence.
I chuckled, supposing it was either that or stay home and unpack my suitcase. “I guess a couple of hours sharing our woes might help,” I said.
Annie let out a laugh. “In my case, there’s nomightabout it.”
