‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying,’ said Jessica. ‘If she’s just lost her husband she’ll be in shock.’
‘Yes,’ said Drew impatiently, managing to convey the obvious fact that as an undertaker he knew quite a lot about newly bereaved people. ‘But she knows I’m going to have to do as she wants. Aren’t I? She’s still my mother.’
‘She can’t possibly want you to bury him here.’ Thea looked round at her daughter and stepchildren. ‘Can she?’
‘No, no. She’s never been anywhere near the Cotswolds. But apparently there are two or three natural burial grounds within reach of Barnard Castle, and she wants me to see to the whole thing, because I “know the ropes”, as she puts it.’
‘She said all this on the phone yesterday and you sat through the whole evening without a word? You’ve taken all this time to tell us about it.’ She was not so much accusing as bewildered.
‘You were all so jolly, it wasn’t too difficult to stay quiet.’
‘If anybody’s selfish, it’s me,’ said Thea sadly. ‘I should have given you more attention, instead of worrying about potatoes and custard.’
‘Potatoes and custard!’ snorted Timmy. ‘Yuk!’
‘There was more,’ said Drew, giving his son an oddly speculative look. Everyone went quiet. ‘She said it was very wrong of me to keep her grandchildren away, and not even ask her to our wedding last year. I never even told her about it until last Christmas.’
‘You were scared of what she might say,’ Thea nodded. ‘Too many stories of terrible mothers turning up at weddings like wicked fairies.’
‘Well, anyway – she said I should bring them with me tomorrow. It would be a consolation, when she’s got such a miserable Christmas in store for her.’
Thea gave a small shriek. ‘Don’t tell me – she wants you to bring her back here tomorrow night. She wants to have Christmas with us. Doesn’t she?’
‘Would that be so awful?’
‘Yes! Call me selfish as much as you like, but yes, it would be awful. A woman I’ve never met, just widowed, with a mountain of baggage on her shoulder, sitting like a dead elephant at the dinner table. Besides, there’s nowhere for her to sleep, if she’s still here when Damien comes. No, Drew, it’s impossible.’
She looked from face to face, puzzled to see a variety of grins looking back at her. ‘What?’
‘Dead elephant,’ giggled Timmy. ‘You said she was like a dead elephant.’
‘Did I? You know what I mean – people say there’s a dead elephant in the room. That’s what she would be.’
‘Elephant in the room, Mum. Nobody ever says it’s a dead one,’ Jessica told her.
‘Oh. Right. Well, anyway, I’m not having her and that’s that.’
‘She doesn’t want to come, actually,’ said Drew. ‘But she does want me to take the kids with me tomorrow. I thought maybe just Timmy … Stephanie’s got to entertain Jessica. I thought it might be nice just to have him …’ He tailed off awkwardly.
Another silence filled the room. ‘Me?’ said Timmy eventually, with a frown. The idea was so new, it took some effort to process. Stephanie felt a rising anger at being excluded. However alarming and confusing this sudden development might be, she didn’t want to miss any of it. What about me? she wanted to whine. But she was eleven and old enough to bite back the words. In any other situation she would have been happy for father and son to spend time together, confident of her own favoured place in Drew’s heart. But this was different – this was a Significant Moment. That much was obvious already. Timmy would remember it all his life; he would be the first to meet their grandmother. He might even see their dead grandfather in his coffin. Dead bodies in coffins were nothing strange to either of them, after all.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Thea, bending over the little boy. ‘He’s very young.’
‘He’s nine. What do you think, Tim?’
‘It’s fine,’ he shrugged. ‘So long as we get back for Christmas.’
‘I promise we will.’
‘The roads are going to be dreadful,’ Jessica reminded him. ‘Everybody starts rushing around on Christmas Eve.’
‘I think it’s a bit silly, to be honest,’ said Thea. ‘You’ll be a wreck by Monday, just when you should be on top form.’
‘If we left this afternoon and stay overnight somewhere like Sheffield, then start early tomorrow, we’d easily be there by half past ten or so. Then stay till teatime and be home again by bedtime tomorrow.’
‘More like midnight, if the traffic’s as bad as Jessica thinks,’ Thea corrected him. ‘And you can’t just go, like that. You’ve got to pack if you’re staying overnight.’
‘Which would take five minutes.’
‘Where are you going to stay?’
‘Find a Premier Inn or one of those places they have on the motorway. Look – it’s all perfectly feasible. We could even go now, and be there by dark – but I don’t think she wants us staying there overnight. I’ve worked it all out. Don’t argue with me, okay?’ He spoke to Tim. ‘Go upstairs with Mum and help her to pack your things.’
It was not the first time he’d done it – referring to Thea as ‘Mum’ – but it always jarred the whole family. It was obvious that he had conflated his two wives in a forgetful moment, and that offended everyone, even Karen’s ghost. Especially Karen’s ghost, in Stephanie’s opinion. And now he was being uncharacteristically masterful, brooking no disagreement, which
