She’d flipped the sign to closed firmly at five, refusing to wait for Simon Blacklock to make an appearance. The twelve triple chocolate cupcakes she’d baked she’d brought here to donate to the communal lounge, and she’d told herself not to mope about it. She’d sold all her cupcakes on Friday, and none on Saturday. That was simply the nature of the business. Perhaps she wouldn’t bother making cupcakes next Saturday, and make the cupcake promotion Monday to Friday only. “Why not, Mum?” she asked now. “You’ve always loved decorating.”
Even when they’d been living in a poky little flat in Middlesbrough, her mother had made sure to garland it with holly and evergreen. There had always been a real, live Christmas tree adorned with glittering baubles, and oranges studded with cloves nestling in a bowl, filling the small space with festive fragrance. Olivia had spent hours playing with the ceramic figures of a well-worn and well-loved nativity set.
“Oh, but there isn’t much point here, is there, really?” Tina said with a shrug. “Cup of tea?”
“Yes, please.” Olivia placed the tin of shortbread she’d brought for her mum on the kitchen table, a feeling of unease rippling through her. She’d had her doubts about her mother moving to the sensible but seemingly soulless flat in nearby Witney; her mum had loved the cosy little flat above the shop, as well as paying attention to all the village comings and goings. Admittedly there had been more goings than comings, at least into the shop, but still. Tina had felt a part of things. She didn’t know a soul in Witney.
“Have you gone to one of those bridge mornings?” Olivia asked brightly as Tina filled the kettle at the sink. “You always talk about trying one out.”
Tina shook her head, her back to Olivia. “I don’t think I’ll go. I’m getting too old for cards.”
“Too old… Mum, you’re only seventy-three.” Olivia gazed at her mother in uneasy alarm. She’d read about how retiring and moving to communities that catered for elderly residents could age a person, make them feel isolated and old before their time. She just never imagined her mother would feel that way.
“Still.” Tina shrugged. “Bridge is such a fussy game, anyway.”
“But you love bridge.” Tina had taught her the game when she was still in primary school, complicated as it was. She’d deal out all four hands on the kitchen table and they’d play two each while Tina talked her through all the complex bidding rules.
“I used to.” Tina gave her a rueful smile. “Things change. Anyway, tell me, how things are at Tea on the Lea?”
“They’re fine. I’ve brought you some shortbread. I’m running a cupcake promotion before Christmas.”
“Cupcakes…!”
“Yes, one per day,” Olivia said, and then proceeded to explain all about the promotion, never mind that she hadn’t sold any yesterday. Her mother listened avidly, but after a few minutes Olivia could tell her mind was elsewhere, and she tried not to feel worried, or worse, hurt. Her mother was usually eager for all the details, wanted to know about the shop she’d started ten years ago.
“What can I do to help?” she asked once they’d finished their tea. “Any errands need running? Ironing? How about a good scrub out of the toilet?”
“Oh, Olivia, I’m not an invalid.” To Olivia’s surprise her mother almost sounded annoyed. “I’m perfectly capable of doing those things myself.”
“Of course you are,” she answered after a moment, trying to sound cheerful rather than offended. “I’m just trying to help, Mum.”
“Oh, darling, I know.” Tina sighed and then reached across the table to squeeze Olivia’s hand. “Please forgive my grumpiness. I’m feeling a bit out of sorts, and I don’t even know why.”
“Is it because it’s Christmas?” Olivia asked gently. “You always did up the flat so nicely…”
“I don’t know what it is. Just getting used to being here, I suppose.”
“We could have Christmas at the flat over the shop instead of here,” Olivia suggested. “I haven’t got a tree yet, but I was planning on it…”
“A tree in that flat? It would take up half the sitting room.”
“A tabletop one, then. Like you did last year.” Her mum had had a small tree in the flat for ten years; it didn’t make sense for her to resist now. Still, Tina just shook her head. “They do a nice lunch here on Christmas Day. I think I’ll just go to that.”
“What?” Olivia stared at her mother, startled and dismayed. “But I thought we’d be spending the day together, the way we always do?”
“We can, of course, but I’m sure you have better things to do, haven’t you?” Olivia blinked, trying not to feel hurt. She’d spent Christmas Day with her mother every single year of her life. Why on earth was her mum backing out now? She almost sounded as if she didn’t want Olivia there.
“I don’t have better things to do, Mum,” she said after a moment. “Of course I don’t. Why don’t you come to the flat? Or we could go to Alice and Henry’s… You remember my friends?” Tina gave a little shake of her head, and Olivia couldn’t tell if she didn’t remember or didn’t want to go. “They’ve invited us to Willoughby Manor for Christmas dinner.” Although she’d already turned down Alice’s invitation, Olivia knew it would always be open. “It’s lovely…a big manor in the countryside, roaring fires…”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Tina rose from the table, the teacups rattling in their saucers as she whisked them to the sink. “I’ll think about it, I suppose.”
“Do. Even if we don’t go there, we could still spend the day together.”
“Yes, well, we’ll see.” Tina’s tone was
