Alphabet Weekends - Elizabeth Noble [30]
We’re the same, you and I, Anna had thought. She had an old school photograph of the girls in her handbag, and she had shown Christmas’s wife, and the two women had nodded and smiled at each other for a while.
She had made Nicholas give Christmas the last of their spending money as a tip.
An eight-by-four-inch copy of that school picture was on the bookshelf now. She dusted it carefully, and studied her daughters’ faces. Susannah, Bridget and Natalie. She still had that welling up of pride and love. But there was something else, and although she reached for it in her mind, trying to understand it, she couldn’t find it.
D for Do-it-yourself
Of course, Tom buzzed at ten a.m. on the dot. Ten a.m. on Saturday morning. In the old days – were they old already? – if Simon hadn’t been working, she might have jumped up, thrown on some clothes and run down the road to buy the papers, two huge cappuccinos and Danish pastries from the deli on the corner. By ten o’clock she’d have been back in bed with him, warming her chilled hands on his chest, pushing herself against his back until he woke up and turned lazily towards her, reaching. Saturday mornings used to feel so full of promise, his suit on the back of a chair, a whole empty day ahead.
When they had spoken yesterday, Tom had asked her what he should wear.
‘Just something comfortable.’
‘I’m intrigued.’
‘And it mustn’t restrict movement too much.’
‘Are those the only clues?’
‘I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, would I?’
‘See? You’re getting into this, aren’t you? I knew you would!’
‘You know me so well, Tom.’
‘That’s the whole point, Nat.’
Natalie giggled as she buzzed him in. ‘Come on up.’ This was going to be fun. She picked up her bag, and opened the front door.
‘Morning, hon.’ Tom kissed her cheek. ‘Crikey. Ready already? Where are we off to?’
‘Me, Tom. Where am I off to. Since you ask, I’m off to Inner Peace. Christmas pressie from Bridge. A whole day at Inner Peace. That women-only place in town. God knows what they get up to there, but Bridget assures me it’s more yoga and reiki than colonic irrigation, so I figured I’d give it a go.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Oh, sorry. Of course. Yoga is an ancient form of exercise, reiki is a healing art and colonic irrigation involves putting a—’
‘Ha, ha. Thanks. That I understand. What I don’t understand is where the letter D and I fit into this fabulous plan to get toned, healed and de-pooed.’
‘Oh, that. Sorry. Again. Should have explained.’ Natalie waved him in past her. ‘These shelves. Bought them ages ago but never got round to putting them up. Not sure I know how, to be honest. Bit of a boy job, I reckon. That’s where you and D come in. DIY. Do-it-yourself. Pretty high on every woman’s list of requirements for a suitable life partner, wouldn’t you reckon? Gotta check it out, Tom. Okay? Tool kit’s over there. Not sure what’s in it – Dad gave it to us when we moved in. Help yourself to tea and coffee. Might be out of milk. Sorry about that. I’ll be back around five, I suppose, unless my chakras are a real nightmare to realign. You should be well finished by then.’
She blew him a theatrical kiss and left before he could say a word. She had walked four houses down the street before she was certain he wasn’t coming after her to complain, smiled to herself and carried on.
From the window Tom watched her go. Touché. Now they were getting somewhere.
Lucy and Patrick
‘You look nice, dear.’ Cynthia smiled benevolently at her daughter-in-law. ‘Have you done something different with your hair?’
Lucy patted it self-consciously. ‘Just washed it.’
‘It looks lovely.’
‘Thanks for doing this.’
‘It’s nothing, sweetheart. I was watching television anyway – I may as well do it here as at home. And Patrick’s dad says not to worry what time you get back. He’ll come and get me whenever.’
‘You could have slept over, you know.’
‘I know,