Another Woman's Child by Kerry Fisher

Author:Kerry Fisher [Fisher, Kerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838888466
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2020-08-04T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Just when I thought my life couldn’t possibly plummet any further down the scale of middle-aged satisfaction, the doorbell went.

‘Oh hi, Mum.’

‘Are you all right? You look exhausted.’

I was pretty sure I didn’t look anywhere near as knackered and done in as I felt. ‘I’m fine, just the time of year. Need a bit of sunshine, I think.’

I didn’t want to let her in, but short of keeping my own mother shivering in the wind on the doorstep, there was nothing for it but to move back and wave her through to the kitchen.

She tutted her way in, taking in the pans on the draining board and dirty plates on the table. ‘Just finished lunch?’

‘No, breakfast. We had a bit of a late start.’

‘Oh lucky you, being able to sleep in. I never could. Not even at your age. And now… well, I’m like Margaret Thatcher. Lucky if I get four hours these days.’

I couldn’t listen to Mum’s insomnia diatribe today. Whenever she stayed here, her snoring kept me awake from the other side of the landing.

I interrupted her. ‘Cup of tea?’

‘Only if I’m not holding you up,’ she said, taking off her coat without waiting for an answer. ‘Where’s Phoebe?’

‘Upstairs.’

‘Not asleep at this time?’

‘No, just getting ready. She works hard, she needs a bit of downtime.’

I spent my life defending her. I felt ashamed of wishing I had one of those shiny, glossy daughters, the sort everyone said, ‘I bumped into your daughter. Isn’t she lovely? So polite. So charming.’

Thankfully, that little spiral of thoughts was stopped in its tracks by Mum pulling two neon orange and lime green bobble hats out of her bag. She leaned towards me conspiratorially. ‘I thought Victor would get chilly in the winter, so I’ve knitted him a hat. And, of course, I didn’t want Phoebe to be left out. She must have her nose put out of joint a bit, what with him taking up Patrick’s time, with all that rugger.’

I didn’t know why when I had so many things to be annoyed about, Mum calling rugby ‘rugger’ made me grind my teeth together, but it did.

I forced myself to be grateful. ‘That was really kind of you,’ I said, knowing that Phoebe would immediately pull a face and say, ‘I’m not wearing that.’ And unlike my imaginary perfect daughter who would just wear it for five minutes to keep Mum happy and make some enthusiastic comment such as, ‘That’ll keep the wind off, Nan,’ she’d make no attempt to disguise her disgust.

My thanks wasn’t enough to satisfy Mum, who said, ‘Will you call her down?’

‘I think she might be in the bath.’

At that moment, Victor and Patrick emerged from the sitting room. Patrick managed a reasonably cheerful hello, as did Victor.

Mum leapt up, pressing her gift on Victor. ‘I bet you find English winters cold, don’t you? I knitted you this. Try it on. I did it a bit on the big side to fit over that hair.’

‘English winters are

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