‘She’s still alive.’
‘Although it’s hard to tell from the service,’ muttered Bea.
‘The service isn’t quite as fast as it used to be,’ conceded Deanna, ‘but she’s still got all her marbles.’
‘Just make sure you never go their hungry,’ said Bea.
‘Mum,’ started Katie. ‘I don’t wait tables
instead
of working in publishing. I wait tables until I know what I want to do.’
‘But when will you find out? You’re twenty-four –’
‘I know how old I am.’
‘I don’t want to see you throw all that potential away,’ said Deanna.
‘Please stop sending me job applications in the post, Mum. I recognise your hand-writing,’ continued Katie. ‘Not sending me a note inside does not make them anonymous.’
‘Oh, what are we going to do with you?’ sighed Deanna.
‘You’re not going to do anything with me. I’m big enough and ugly enough to do what I want.’
‘You are not ugly. Or big.’
‘That’s me,’ said Bea happily, putting another slice of toast in her mouth.
‘I will decide what I want to do in my own time,’ explained Katie, ‘and when I decide, I will follow a career path of my own choosing.’
Her mother chewed her lip. ‘You’re not serious about becoming an educational psychologist are you?’ she asked eventually.
Katie sighed before shaking her head, suddenly certain. ‘No.’ Since her epiphany she’d watched all the children in the café with new interest. ‘Children are revolting,’ she said. Bea gasped. ‘Not yours of course,’ she rushed. ‘Yours will be beautiful.’
‘Well, it’ll be a baby first,’ said Bea, a little quietly. ‘Maybe that will help.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ assured Katie, ‘but I still couldn’t be an educational psychologist.’
‘Thank God for small mercies,’ sighed Deanna.
One hour later, Katie rang the bell of Great-Aunt Edna’s cottage and could hear sounds of movement from within. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her mother’s aunt, she just didn’t know her very well. Apparently, as a baby she’d bonded with her and would go only to her at family functions. This had worked its charm on the old bird and now Katie was to get the money – if she decided what she wanted to be before Great-Aunt Edna died – and Bea and Cliffie the contents of her minuscule rented cottage which was stuffed with antiques.
‘Just a minute!’ came a thin voice. Katie wrapped her scarf tighter round her neck. Great-Aunt Edna had a thing about saving money, so rarely had the heating on.
The door opened and a wisp of a woman stood before her. A thinning cloud of white hair was swept off her face, highlighting the sharpness of her blue eyes. Katie was always struck by her aunt’s frailty, until the woman spoke. Her body and features might be slowly shrivelling, but her mind was as sturdy as ever.
‘Let me have a look at you,’ she said, clasping her favourite great-niece’s chin.
Their eyes met. Great-Aunt Edna grinned. ‘Not bad,’ she beamed proudly. ‘You’ll do, you’ll do.’
They kissed hello and then made their way slowly down the cold dark hall into the kitchen. ‘What will you have to drink?’ asked Edna, patting Katie’s arm, which made her feel like a giant in Mrs Tiggywinkle’s house. Once in the kitchen, a hot blast of air hit her – this was clearly where Great-Aunt Edna spent her day. The old woman settled herself at the table and instructed Katie where to get the things out for tea. Everything in the cottage, from the priceless ornaments to be exquisitely decorated cups and saucers, was old, collectible and in pristine condition. As soon as Great-Aunt Edna had become unable to manage it herself, she had taken on a girl from the village to help clean her home. She was not a spendthrift, but she was proud and determined that nobody could say she kept a dirty home.
Katie made the tea and sat with her back against the wall, the kitchen clock chiming every precious quarter of an
‘Although it’s hard to tell from the service,’ muttered Bea.
‘The service isn’t quite as fast as it used to be,’ conceded Deanna, ‘but she’s still got all her marbles.’
‘Just make sure you never go their hungry,’ said Bea.
‘Mum,’ started Katie. ‘I don’t wait tables
instead
of working in publishing. I wait tables until I know what I want to do.’
‘But when will you find out? You’re twenty-four –’
‘I know how old I am.’
‘I don’t want to see you throw all that potential away,’ said Deanna.
‘Please stop sending me job applications in the post, Mum. I recognise your hand-writing,’ continued Katie. ‘Not sending me a note inside does not make them anonymous.’
‘Oh, what are we going to do with you?’ sighed Deanna.
‘You’re not going to do anything with me. I’m big enough and ugly enough to do what I want.’
‘You are not ugly. Or big.’
‘That’s me,’ said Bea happily, putting another slice of toast in her mouth.
‘I will decide what I want to do in my own time,’ explained Katie, ‘and when I decide, I will follow a career path of my own choosing.’
Her mother chewed her lip. ‘You’re not serious about becoming an educational psychologist are you?’ she asked eventually.
Katie sighed before shaking her head, suddenly certain. ‘No.’ Since her epiphany she’d watched all the children in the café with new interest. ‘Children are revolting,’ she said. Bea gasped. ‘Not yours of course,’ she rushed. ‘Yours will be beautiful.’
‘Well, it’ll be a baby first,’ said Bea, a little quietly. ‘Maybe that will help.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ assured Katie, ‘but I still couldn’t be an educational psychologist.’
‘Thank God for small mercies,’ sighed Deanna.
One hour later, Katie rang the bell of Great-Aunt Edna’s cottage and could hear sounds of movement from within. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her mother’s aunt, she just didn’t know her very well. Apparently, as a baby she’d bonded with her and would go only to her at family functions. This had worked its charm on the old bird and now Katie was to get the money – if she decided what she wanted to be before Great-Aunt Edna died – and Bea and Cliffie the contents of her minuscule rented cottage which was stuffed with antiques.
‘Just a minute!’ came a thin voice. Katie wrapped her scarf tighter round her neck. Great-Aunt Edna had a thing about saving money, so rarely had the heating on.
The door opened and a wisp of a woman stood before her. A thinning cloud of white hair was swept off her face, highlighting the sharpness of her blue eyes. Katie was always struck by her aunt’s frailty, until the woman spoke. Her body and features might be slowly shrivelling, but her mind was as sturdy as ever.
‘Let me have a look at you,’ she said, clasping her favourite great-niece’s chin.
Their eyes met. Great-Aunt Edna grinned. ‘Not bad,’ she beamed proudly. ‘You’ll do, you’ll do.’
They kissed hello and then made their way slowly down the cold dark hall into the kitchen. ‘What will you have to drink?’ asked Edna, patting Katie’s arm, which made her feel like a giant in Mrs Tiggywinkle’s house. Once in the kitchen, a hot blast of air hit her – this was clearly where Great-Aunt Edna spent her day. The old woman settled herself at the table and instructed Katie where to get the things out for tea. Everything in the cottage, from the priceless ornaments to be exquisitely decorated cups and saucers, was old, collectible and in pristine condition. As soon as Great-Aunt Edna had become unable to manage it herself, she had taken on a girl from the village to help clean her home. She was not a spendthrift, but she was proud and determined that nobody could say she kept a dirty home.
Katie made the tea and sat with her back against the wall, the kitchen clock chiming every precious quarter of an
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