• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

`You mean you want us to live like paupers, Mother? Is that it?'

`I just think it would be nice to see you learning to support yourself,' Florence said pleasantly. `Living within your own means instead of relying on endless hand-outs from me.'

`Okay, if that's how you feel.' Draining his glass, Bruce pointedly examined his watch. `Anyway, we'd better be off. Don't worry about us, Mother. The shop will probably go under, we'll sell the house, Jason will have to go to some godforsaken state school, but don't let that bother you for a second-'

`Bruce, do you love me?' Florence interrupted him in mid-rant.

`What?'

`Do you love me?' Reaching for her cigarettes, she lit one, chiefly to annoy Verity. `Do you care about me, do you want me to be happy?'

`That's a ridiculous question.' Still flushed with anger, Bruce shook his head. `Of course I do.' He put his arm around Verity's thin shoulders for emphasis. `We both do.'

`It's just, you've been here for over an hour.' Florence gazed steadily at the pair of them. `And all we've done so far is talk about you. You haven't even asked me yet how I am.'

She saw Verity give him a meaningful jab in the ribs.

`Mother, I'm sorry.' Like a small boy prodded into politeness, Bruce recited dutifully, `How are you?'

`Extremely well, thank you. Feeling quite - what's the word - rejuvenated.' Florence beamed. `That's the amazing thing about ruts, isn't it? You don't realise quite how much of one you've been stuck in, until someone comes along and hauls you out.'

Bewildered, Bruce said, `You've lost me, Mother.' Surely this wasn't something to do with religion?

`I have met someone,' Florence announced, `who makes me very happy.'

`Good grief.' Bruce's double chins quivered, signalling his amazement.

`A gentleman friend,' said Verity. `Florence, how nice. I'm so pleased for you.'

`We want to enjoy ourselves. Have fun,' said Florence. `Travel the world, in style.'

`So he's retired.' Bruce nodded with approval. Fellow must be loaded if he could afford holidays like that. `What line of work was he in?'

`Ooh, this and that.' Florence gave her son and daughter-in-law a bright smile. `But he's not retired.'

`If he isn't retired,' said Verity, `how's he going to manage to travel the world with you?' Although with computers these days, she supposed, anything was possible.

`Easy.' The extravagant rings on Florence's fingers flashed as she waved her hand. `He's between jobs right now.' `So how can he afford to whisk you off-'

`He's not whisking me,' Florence announced, `I'm whisking

him.'

`Mother, are you mad?'

`He takes care of me. He makes me laugh. When I'm with him I feel alive again, for the first time in years.' Calmly Florence blew a perfect smoke ring. `And I don't care if people think I'm a silly old fool, because they don't know what he's really like. We're happy, and that's what counts.'

Bruce didn't like the sound of this at all. Suspicion wrinkled his forehead.

`Why would people think you're a silly old fool?'

With a careless shrug, Florence said, `He's what you might call a younger man, that's all.'

Oh, terrific.

`How much younger?'

`Look, it's my life. If it doesn't matter to us, why should anyone else be bothered?'

`Mother. How much younger?'

`Quite a bit younger than me. Oh, all right, all right,' she admitted with a sigh. `If you must know, younger than you too.'

`Look at you, all sparkly-eyed,' Florence said fondly, when

Miranda returned just before midnight. `No need to ask if you had a good evening.'

`I did, I did.' Kicking her shoes off, Miranda pirouetted around the sitting room.

`So where is he?'

`I'm playing it cool, keeping him keen.' Dizzy from spinning, Miranda threw herself down on the velvet sofa. `Don't want him thinking I'm a pushover. I mean, you know I am and I know I am, but he doesn't have to find that out just yet.'

`Tactics,' said Florence. `I'm impressed.'

`Me too.' Miranda grinned. `So how was your evening?'

`Remarkably similar, as a matter