The Christmas Café by Amanda Prowse

Author:Amanda Prowse [Prowse, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784970369
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Eleven

‘Oh, cool! Look at this! I can see the castle and the gardens! It’s all so old!’ Flora stared through the bay window of their room at the dazzling array of ancient buildings, Christmas lights and shoppers enjoying the spectacle.

It was a good-sized room, with two double beds whose crisp white linen looked more than a little inviting. The light came from a multitude of elegant lamps that had been artfully placed on the dark-wood dressing table and bedside cabinets. The luxurious carpet was a pale tartan. Someone had arranged a stunning bouquet of lilac-coloured thistles and white roses as a centrepiece. They smiled at each other; their room and the view were just perfect.

‘Come on, Bea, let’s go exploring before I crash out on that bed and fall asleep for a hundred years.’

‘Okay, my little would-be Sleeping Beauty, if you’re sure you’re up to it. I feel a bit scruffy, have I got time to shower and change?’ Bea released her thick hair from its barrette and ran her fingers through her tangles before refastening the clip, making sure she caught all the stray tendrils.

‘You always look très chic, Bea. Mum tells her friends the story of when she first met you and you had an outfit on like Coco Chanel, with a silk shirt, strings of pearls and wide-legged pants. She says you looked beautiful, elegant and very fashionable and that it made her feel nervous.’

‘Ah, well, thank you, Sarah!’ Bea was genuinely happy and rather surprised to learn that this was how her daughter-in-law referred to her. ‘I do love clothes, it’s true. I think it’s because I didn’t really have any when I was growing up – just a couple of drab outfits my mum made. Me, my sister and my mum always had the same clothes. Once or twice a year, my dad would buy a cheap bolt of quite plain fabric and my mum would lay it out on the floor and pin three different-sized paper patterns to it, one for each of us – enough for three skirts, blouses or whatever. She was a very clever seamstress and the electric sewing machine was forever whirring away in the house. But I secretly longed for shop-bought clothes that were different from my sister’s. It wasn’t until I met Peter that there was spare money for good clothes. Ever since then I’ve always bought well and kept them for years. Still do.’

‘And you have a lovely figure.’

‘Oh, well, bless you, Flora! What a nice thing to say.’

‘Have you ever been fat?’ Flora asked, with typical teenaged bluntness.

Bea pictured herself on a bed, looking like she had swallowed a barrel. Her skin had stretched to accommodate the new life within her. She remembered standing in the bathroom and looking down, unable to see her toes. She had been huge and had rather loved it, despite the gnawing embarrassment at the fact that she was pregnant and alone.

‘Not really, no. What do you fancy for supper?’

Neither commented on the change of topic.

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