Uphill All the Way (27 page)

Outside, she picked off the price tag, and discarded the thick, pale blue paper bag in favour of a thin, pink-striped carrier, knowing that was what Wilma would expect from the pound shop.

She felt like a teenager preparing elaborate lies to pull the wool over her mother's eyes, but Wilma was so staunch in her refusal to let Judith or Molly 'treat' her to nice things that a little subterfuge was called for, occasionally.

As she slithered through the slush to the car park, she sighed over the lacy fingers of the bare trees edging the pavements, and longed for spring to provide frothy dresses of pink blossom. After dropping her car keys and having to locate them by feel because the big orange lights of the car park weren't working for some reason, she drove to Molly's house with numb fingertips.

After two big mugs of Molly's 'real' coffee to warm her through, and biscuits to keep her from fading away, Judith was ready to take Molly on to visit Wilma. She and Molly would eat together later.

Molly tucked her mittened hands beneath her voluminous red cape. 'I'm glad you don't mind driving, because I just can't be doing with this white stuff,' she grumbled, shuffling down the path in crepe-soled boots and angling herself cautiously into the passenger seat of the car.

'Me neither,' said Judith, seriously, hopping into the driver's seat. 'I hope we don't crash, or have to get out and push.' She threw her head back and laughed to see her sister's horror. 'For goodness sake, Molly! Don't clutch the door handle, I was joking.'

But Molly hung on as if the car were a roller coaster about to dive down a precipitous slope, and actually shrieked as the car got into a skid in Northampton Road. Rotating the steering wheel rapidly to correct matters, Judith shook her head at her sister's feebleness. Driving in it was the only thing she liked about snow, still childish enough to be exhilarated by the odd skating moment.

Wilma waited in the residents' lounge that was set aside for receiving visitors. Her hair looked freshly 'done', and she was wearing passion-pink lipstick that didn't suit her, probably meaning that it came free on the front of a magazine. 'You made it without huskies and sled!' she beamed. 'Did you remember my purse, Judith?'

Judith settled into one of the high-backed chairs. They were the only visitors in the visitors' lounge, but there were several unaccompanied residents. Watching other people's visitors was a bit of a spectator sport when there was nothing good on the telly, and so there were several grey-haired ladies craning to watch Judith hand over the carrier containing the purse.

Wilma beamed as she fumbled the black leather out of its wrapping. 'Ooh, isn't it a lovely one?'

'Lovely!' chorused around the room.

'But you didn't get this from the pound shop?'

'Yes, I did,' Judith lied. 'I've kept the receipt at home, in case you want me to take it back.'

'I won't want you to take this beauty back, m'duck!' Wilma creaked her laugh. She began unzipping compartments with stiff fingers, dropping her voice. 'Did you put a coin in it?' Wilma believed that it was bad luck to give a purse without.

'Of course.'

'Ju
dith
!' Wilma had found the coin. 'It's a
pound
! That's all the purse cost! Here, let me give you some change.'

Laughing, Judith protested. 'You can't give change for a good luck coin, Mum, it's bound to stop the luck working! Adam put it in there, anyway. You can't hurt his feelings by refusing.'

Beside their mother, Molly's dark brows rose in big sister reproof that Judith was slithering into bigger and bigger lies, just as she had when they were children.

'Was that purse really only a pound?' demanded a silver-haired lady in a bobbly cardigan in shades of oatmeal. 'My dear, I need a new purse. I don't suppose you'll be going to that shop again, will you? Could you get me one?'

'And me!'

'And me, m'duck, if you're sure it's not too much trouble.'

With sinking heart, and grinning sister, Judith found herself collecting five one pound pieces that she was supposed to exchange for five genuine leather purses from the pound shop.

When the others had drifted off to the television room or were nodding over newspapers, Wilma grasped Judith's hand anxiously, her own flesh chilly despite the central heating. 'Were all them purses alike?' Her whisper was almost a wheeze.

Judith understood instantly. 'I think the rest were smaller.'

'Oh.' Wilma sat back, looking satisfied. 'They won't mind theirs being smaller.'

She left much of the conversation to Molly, after that. Her sister was good at talking trivia, storing up little nuggets of information about her neighbours - people Wilma had never met - what Edward had told her about his skiing holiday, in his last phone call, and what seeds she intended to grow on her conservatory windowsill.

Wilma followed it all with fierce interest, until the residents' cocoa was ready. Visitors were welcome to join in the nightly cocoa ritual at a cost of 30p per cup. Judith waited until the frothing drinks had been served, then, knowing that when it was drunk visiting hours would be over, decided to break her news.

Until the moment arrived, she hadn't given much thought to the actual words she'd use, or having to watch Wilma's face as she delivered them. Faced with the reality, she found that the more she attempted to make her tone casual, the more falsely contrived it emerged, and the fewer words she seemed to have at her disposal. 'I have something to tell you,' she began. 'I'm probably going back to Malta, Mum.'

A silence. Molly frowned, her face sharp with disapproval, glancing at Wilma and laying a comforting hand on her forearm. 'For good?'

Judith realised that she'd been too blunt, and wished she'd talked to her sister, first. Moll was good with Wilma, she would have done something to prepare the ground, used some of the endless comfortingly inconsequential chat she had at her disposal to talk around the subject, how much Judith loved Malta, how she wouldn't be surprised if Judith went back some day. So the seed of possibility was sewn somewhere on Wilma's narrow horizon. 'Not definitely,' she muttered. 'I've got to see Richard, anyway, and discuss what's going to happen with Richard Morgan Estate.'

Wilma gripped her hands together. 'But it might be for good? Just when I'd got used to you, again.' Her words were forlorn, and there was a hint of a tremble about her round chin. Then, 'I've got my new glasses, did you notice? The frames are called "Amethyst". That means mauve.' The tremor gaining strength, she removed the glasses to display them, then surreptitiously blotted her eye with the back of her hand.

Dismayed, Judith gazed at the teardrop glistening on the soft white skin. Gently, she rubbed it away with her fingers, taking the hand, swollen with age, in both of hers. 'They're lovely glasses. Even if I stay in Malta, I'll come back, often, to see you, Mum.'

'Of course you will, dear!' Wilma blotted the other eye. 'But I just thought... I thought you might settle here, now, so that I could carry on seeing you all the time. Adam's such a nice man.'

'He is.' Judith didn't pretend not to understand. 'He's coming to Malta with me for a couple of weeks, possibly.'

Wilma fumbled to push the new glasses back on her face. 'Lucky for you he's patient.'

They got their usual table at The Three Bells in the little dining room. Molly didn't like to eat in pubs unless it was in a separate dining room.

A log fire roared in a stone fireplace ornamented with a companion set, andirons, bellows, horse brasses and a warming pan. The beams were hung with corn dolls and more horse brasses. A young lad with red hair and a serious expression wiped their table and presented them with cutlery wrapped in white paper napkins, and a little round pot of sauce sachets.

Molly was working now as a volunteer in a charity shop. Usually, she seemed to enjoy sitting across the table from Judith and talking about her customers, those who came in every week to stretch their budget by trawling the clothes, and the occasional middle-class matron who couldn't resist a Royal Doulton tea service at about one-tenth of its value. Normally, she'd sniff about the man from Brinham market's thriving Antique Corner, who liked to buy cheap in charity shops and sell dear on his stall.

But today she could scarcely wait for the first sip from her coke before starting in on her sister with a huge sigh. 'Just when I thought you'd settled here! But, no, you're off again.' She folded her arms with a little huff of annoyance. 'You can't keep shuttling backwards and forwards for the rest of your life, you know, Judith.' She didn't sound cross so much as anxious.

Judith couldn't resist taking her literally. 'Actually, I can. I wish you wouldn't talk as if I need your permission or approval. The days when Mum used to put you in charge of me have gone.'

'Pity.'

'Come off it, Molly - !'

'I'm just thinking about Mum.'

Judith sighed, and drank half her lager in one swill, instead of making it last as she normally did when she was driving. 'I'm aware that I handled it badly. I didn't think she'd take it quite so hard,' she admitted gloomily.

Molly picked up the menu as the red-haired teenager returned with his pad and pen, and ordered chicken and chips. 'I'm afraid she's well aware that she's old,' she said, when he'd returned to the kitchens. For once she didn't sound judgmental or bossy. Just sad. 'Every time she sees you, she'll upset herself over whether it's the last time.' She held up her hand. 'And I know that the same could apply wherever you lived - but when you're in Lavender Row you're only ten minutes from her. Malta, in Mum's mind, is an unconceivable distance away. She can no longer grasp the reality of it, a little country in the middle of a big sea. The longer you're away, the further it seems, to her. And don't waste your breath trying to convince me otherwise. I've had three years of being cheerfully comforting when all she wants is to see you!'

Judith sank into guilty silence.

Molly unrolled her cutlery from the paper napkin to inspect it for watermarks. 'How much was that purse?'

Judith groaned. 'Eighteen pounds.'

Molly burst out laughing, schadenfreude diverting her momentarily from worrying about her mother. '
Eighteen
? And you've got orders for five more? You'll have to pretend they've sold out, won't you? Eighteen pounds!'

Finishing the rest of her drink, Judith shrugged. 'I wouldn't buy them the same as Mum, you know what she's like, it'll take the shine off for her if everyone gets the same. I'll get them the smaller size. They're only eleven.'

'That's still fifty-five pounds!'

'Well, I'm not disappointing them!' Suddenly, Judith wanted to cry. At the thought of those old ladies watching other people's visitors and waiting for their wonderful one pound purses?

Or was the indigestible lump of emotion lodged in her throat at the memory of Wilma trying to hide her tears?

Chapter Twenty-four

But it was a week until the tears finally fell.

They'd been to take pix of twin brothers who'd married twin sisters, and now the sisters were each expecting babies - single births, disappointingly - during the summer.

A magazine was doing a feature on this convoluted family branch, and intended follow-ups in one year and two years, keen to see how alike or unlike the children would prove to be.

The shoot had been an easy one, and they were home by mid-afternoon with the images downloaded for Adam to look at the next day.

Judith shut the machine down. 'I've got the ingredients at home for a Thai green curry, fancy joining me?'

'You get me where I'm most vulnerable. You know I love Thai curry.'

'Play you at paper-rock-scissors for who's going to cook it?'

Adam studied his right hand thoughtfully. 'I'll be OK so long as you don't notice I can only make a rock.'

Judith grinned. 'Don't try that stuff on me - we'll both play left-handed.'

Adam still lost, leaving him to cook a curry in an iron wok in Judith's kitchen, while, free of domestic responsibility, Judith switched on her computer to download her e-mails. She clicked on
send and receive
, and watched four messages download. A message from Richard. One from Microsoft. And from her book club. Then an unfamiliar electronic address.

[email protected]
.

It was a moment before it made sense, a moment of her mind hunting for the right memory to tune into, like a hound circling for the scent. Kiery Cake Eater. And the words kicked her heart into a gallop.

That silly nickname, used only between her and Kieran in the days when Kieran was a child and life was simple and Judith was always aware of her son's whereabouts and that he was safe, her greatest problem likely to be how to prevent him from sneaking a third slice of cake from the fridge. She had a sudden vision of playing a silly, raucous game of chase around Tom's sprawling house, she roaring, troll-like, 'Where is Kiery Cake Eater?'

Kieran, breathless from giggles and the delicious panic of the pursued, 'Eating all the cake!'

The scalding tears welled as she fumbled over the two simple clicks it took to open the message. She had to swipe them away before she could read.