‘Shall I drive?’ said Helena. It was Sunday morning, and Helena had parked her car outside Fairacres and gone inside to pick up her mother. ‘Then you can have a glass of wine?’
‘A whole glass? I don’t think so. That would be more units than would be healthy,’ said Gilly, looking around to check everything was locked. ‘Cressida always wants everyone to be healthy.’
‘Mum! It’s so unlike you to say something like that. I love it when you find your inner bitch.’
Gilly laughed. ‘I’m always quite relieved to discover I have one, I must say. Now, have I got everything?’
‘I’m not sure Cressida appreciates home baking, Mum,’ said Helena, eyeing the collection of Tupperware her mother had in her basket.
‘I know she doesn’t, but Martin does and he takes it into work. He tells Cressida that it’s to give to his colleagues, but I know he eats it too.’
‘But don’t you think she breathalyses him to detect the consumption of carbs and sugar when he gets home?’
‘Probably. Mostly I take biscuits so Issi has something she can eat when she gets home from school. I don’t think that little girl actually gets enough calories. It’s all cucumber and carrots and the odd seed. But I expect you’re right, I shouldn’t be her enabler—’
Helena giggled. ‘To home-made shortbread. Oh, what a wicked granny you are!’
Helena spent the journey wondering if she should mention her suspicions about her sister-in-law’s motives behind inviting them both to lunch to see if Gilly confessed to thinking the same thing. But she knew her mother didn’t like it when she said unpleasant things about Cressida and so didn’t want to do it unless it was really justified.
She parked outside the sleekly modern house, which had a steep drive that didn’t encourage visiting vehicles. Helena and her mother sat in the car for a few seconds, bracing themselves. ‘I hope you’re wrapped up warm,’ said Gilly eventually.
‘Mum! It’s April!’
‘Only just! And that house is always cold, but Cressida is always warm. It’s the running.’
Helena shuddered. Her sister-in-law’s addiction to running always unsettled her. ‘Let’s go in.’
Martin, her brother, greeted her with a hug and a ‘Hey, Sis.’
His wife, who was tall as well as thin, was dressed in black. Her hair was pulled back into a very tidy ponytail and she was wearing silver jewellery. Her make-up was pale and either didn’t include lipstick or she was using one the same shade as her foundation.
Her welcome was a bit more gushing than her husband’s. She smiled at Helena and kissed Gilly on both cheeks and patted her shoulder. The little girl, Ismene, who was five years old and serious, said, ‘Good morning, Grandma and Helena.’
Helena winced for her mother. Gilly was a devoted grandmother but she hated being called Grandma. However, in spite of her expressing her dislike of it when Ismene was tiny, Cressida had insisted this was how she was to be addressed. Cressida was big on proper names.
‘So, come along in,’ said Martin, ushering them through to the sitting room.
Although the room was cold, there was no fire in the super-modern fireplace. But even if the underfloor heating had been on, it would always be chilly. Helena felt it was something about the décor, which was white and mauve with black accents.
The look that Cressida gave Helena’s feet was clear – she wanted Helena to take off her shoes. Helena ignored the message. She was cold enough even though she had put on a warm cardigan before coming and she couldn’t cope with just socks. She wouldn’t have objected to being asked to remove her shoes had she been offered fluffy slippers to replace them but there was nothing fluffy in this house. She noticed that Cressida hadn’t given her mother the silent ‘take off your shoes’ message. Just for a moment Helena wished that one of them had stepped in dog poo.
‘Sherry, Martin!’ ordered Cressida crisply.
Helena refused sherry but noted that the fact it was offered meant it wasn’t just an ordinary lunch. She noticed her mother accepting, obviously needing alcoholic support.
‘Well, this is nice!’ said Gilly, halfway through her tiny glass. ‘When were we all together last?’
‘Christmas?’ suggested Helena. ‘Ismene has grown, anyway. Hey?’ She crouched down to address the little girl directly. ‘When you grow out of your shoes can I have them? They are so cool!’
Ismene frowned. ‘Don’t be silly, Aunt Helena, your feet are much bigger than mine.’
Helena looked down at her trainers. ‘Oh, so they are. What a shame.’
‘Ma,’ said Martin. ‘We want to ask you something.’
‘Wait until after lunch, Martin!’ said Cressida. ‘We discussed this!’
‘Maybe we’d better have lunch then, if it’s ready,’ said Gilly.
‘Have another glass of sherry first, Ma,’ said Martin.
‘Although lunch is ready,’ said Cressida. ‘It’s only soup and salad.’
‘I’d love another sherry, Martin,’ said Gilly.
Helena wished she could join her. She knew that technically she may well be able to drink a small amount and still be safe to drive but she would never take the risk.
Gilly seemed to get through her second glass of sherry fairly quickly and they were ushered into the icy dining room with amazing views and a glass table. The surface of it was so cold that Helena was reluctant to let her wrists touch it. Perhaps the tabletop was a deliberate ploy to encourage good table manners. Cressida was very keen on table manners.
They started with a thin soup that may well have been hot when it left the saucepan but by the time it had been poured into enormous, icy plates, it was tepid. It also had no apparent seasoning. But still it was bound to be healthy and meant Helena could have a full-fat sausage roll or, indeed, almost anything else to compensate afterwards.
‘Did you know,’ said Cressida, ‘that you can lose weight just by not eating after seven o’clock at night and not having breakfast until nine o’clock. It’s not as good as doing twenty-four hour fasting, in my opinion, but you may find it helpful.’ She smiled at Helena as if she’d just asked her how Cressida kept her lovely figure, which she hadn’t.
‘I’m so glad it works for you, Cressida,’ said Helena sweetly, ‘but although you’ve tried before, I’m not interested in diets that make me think about food all the time. In fact, I’m not interested in diets at all. I’m perfectly happy with my shape.’
Cressida shrugged. ‘I was only trying to be helpful.’
‘We know,’ said Gilly, patting her daughter-in-law’s hand. ‘And you do always look so lean and fit, it obviously works.’
‘Personally, I’m only interested in diets that have Greggs’ sausage rolls on them,’ said Helena. Aware that everyone, including her five-year-old niece, was looking at her in horror, she went on: ‘I just mean, if I want a sausage roll I’m going to have one.’
‘No wonder you’re a bit—’ Cressida began.
‘Porky?’ suggested Martin.
‘I am not porky!’ said Helena.
‘Children!’ said Gilly. ‘Helly, Martin was only teasing. Don’t rise to it.’
Martin grinned. ‘If you eat pork, you’ll be porky.’
‘Anyway!’ said Cressida, getting up. ‘Let’s move on. I’ll get the salad.’
The salad was colourful and quite tasty with its ‘squeeze of lemon juice instead of an oily dressing’, as Cressida proudly announced. It wasn’t very filling though and Helena wondered if she could raid the box of shortbread when she helped clear up. She could do it while Cressida – or Martin – went to get more dirty plates from the table. But she lost hope in this plan when she realised how few plates there were for five people.
Cressida put a fruit bowl on the table. ‘We never have puddings in the middle of the day. But do help yourselves.’
Helena took an orange and pulled her side plate in front of her. ‘I love oranges,’ she said, ‘but would you really class them as pudding?’
‘There’s a lot of sugar in fruit,’ said Cressida, ‘which is why I limit it.’
Gilly didn’t speak but Helena noticed her press her lips together and then take a breath to say something. ‘So, what’s your “exciting plan”, Cressida?’ she said, making the inverted commas audible.
Cressida laughed. ‘Oh! I was going to wait until we were sharing a nice cup of tea, later. I’ve got some new organic herb tea that is a super detox.’
‘Let’s hear about it now,’ said Gilly, her words and expression jolly, her feelings obviously less so.
‘Better get your tablet,’ said Martin, who hadn’t said a lot up until now except to goad his sister.
Cressida came back to the table and sat down next to Gilly, pulling her chair in close. She laughed again. ‘You may not know this, but I have a terrible Rightmove habit!’ she tinkled.
‘Really?’ said Gilly, obviously genuinely surprised.
‘Yes!’ said Cressida. ‘And I’ve found something really rather exciting. Let me find it for you.’
Helena got up, determined she wasn’t going to miss out on any excitement going. Besides, the sooner the plan had been shared the sooner they could go home.
‘Look!’ said Cressida. ‘Isn’t it to die for?’
Revealed on Cressida’s favourite website – one which Helena was quite fond of too – was indeed a lovely property.
It was a mansion, with seven bedrooms, four reception rooms and multiple bathrooms. There was a tennis court and lovely grounds. There was even an outdoor swimming pool and accompanying pool house. Unsurprisingly, it was very expensive.
‘But you could never afford this, could you?’ asked Gilly, looking at her son, who had a very good job but surely not good enough to support the sort of mortgage they’d need to buy this enormous house.
‘And look!’ said Cressida, ignoring this question. ‘It has a granny annexe!’ She clicked along to the picture.
Helena leaned in. She peered at the double bedroom (double doors on to the garden), kitchenette, and living room which was big enough for a three-piece suite if the furniture was arranged more or less sideways. There was a huge television on the wall. ‘Hmm,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t care to put my granny in there. If I had one.’
‘You could let it,’ said Gilly. ‘Airbnb, or just bed and breakfast. Would you want to do that?’
Cressida looked annoyed and disappointed. ‘Well, no, we wouldn’t want to do that. We’d want you to live in it, Gilly.’
‘Me? Why?’ Gilly sounded confused.
‘It would be so handy. You could see so much more of Ismene than you usually do,’ explained Cressida. ‘You’re always saying you don’t see enough of her.’
‘That is true, Grandma,’ said Ismene. She was a solemn, truthful child. Helena liked her but found her a little unnerving.
‘But you already live quite near,’ said Gilly, ‘I don’t see why you moving would make me see more of Issi – Ismene,’ she corrected herself quickly.
‘Cress wants to go back to work full time,’ said Martin.
‘Then you’d need this space for a nanny,’ said Gilly quickly. ‘But I still don’t see how you’d afford this house.’ She smiled at Cressida. ‘Unless you’ve been offered a really well-paid job, which of course you so deserve and could obviously do.’
While Helena was privately vomiting at her mother’s obvious sucking-up to Cressida, she did wonder if there was a hidden message in her flattering words.
‘Ah!’ said Cressida. ‘Although I have got a job offer with a very good package, this is where we come to our exciting plan!’
‘Which is?’ said Gilly.
Helena recognised a hint of steel in her mother’s gentle enquiry.
Some of Cressida’s confidence left her. ‘Gilly, we think it’s time you thought about downsizing. Although you’re amazing for your age, you’re not getting any younger.’
‘Not even you are doing that, Cressida,’ said Helena.
‘My age?’ said Gilly, her tone a combination of bemused and affronted. ‘I’m still in my fifties! Surely I don’t have to be thinking about my age yet!’
‘The bed and breakfast is a lot of hard work,’ persisted Cressida. ‘You often say so.’
‘But Mum loves her B & B!’ said Helena. ‘Are you suggesting she gives it up? And even if you are, there’s no reason why she should move into a granny annexe.’ Helena was aware she was being disingenuous; she knew what was coming but she wanted Cressida and her brother to say it.
‘It’s about repurposing her property,’ said Cressida.
‘What?’ said Helena, no longer bothering to sound polite. ‘I do wish you’d speak in plain English sometimes!’
‘That is English,’ said Ismene. She was looking confused now.
‘It is English, darling,’ said Gilly, ‘but the meaning isn’t exactly clear.’
‘What exactly do you mean by “repurposing”?’ said Helena. ‘Do you mean convert it into executive second homes?’
‘No, of course not!’ snapped Martin. ‘Get off your hobby horse, Hels.’
‘We would never suggest doing anything to your lovely home!’ said Cressida. ‘But you are sitting on a lot of very valuable real estate and if you sold it, you could help Helena buy somewhere to do her weaving and we could buy our new house and you could live with us!’
Helena suddenly felt sick. Surely Cressida wasn’t suggesting that her mother sold the family home, the house she had struggled so hard to keep after her divorce, so Martin and Cressida could go and live in a mansion? Keeping her rage under control made her sweat slightly. She helped herself to a glass of water. ‘I’m not sure Mum would like that,’ she said.
‘I was reading an article in the paper just the other day about how baby boomers are sitting on millions of pounds’ worth of property and their children are struggling to get on to the property ladder,’ said Cressida.
‘But you are on the property ladder,’ said Gilly.
‘And Mum helped you get there!’ said Helena.
Cressida gave her a withering look. ‘Five thousand isn’t exactly a deposit, Helena. Not these days.’
Helena saw the hurt flash across her mother’s face. Giving her children five thousand pounds at that particular time had been a real struggle. She’d had to give so much to her ex-husband to stop him forcing her to sell the family home there had been hardly anything left over. ‘It was worth a lot more then,’ Helena said. She’d only discovered afterwards how hard it had been for Gilly or she wouldn’t have accepted the money.
‘Anyway,’ said Cressida, looking a little uncomfortable. ‘We just wanted to share our plan with you, and offer you a home with us for your – older years.’
Gilly took a breath. ‘Had I been in my eighties or nineties I’d probably have been grateful,’ she said.
‘But we need the money now, Mum,’ said Martin, ‘not when you’re dead.’
‘Martin!’ Cressida snapped. ‘There’s no need to talk like that.’
Helena cleared her throat. She felt if she stayed any longer she was likely to say something that would cause a permanent family rift. ‘You’ve given Mum a lot to think about, but now I think perhaps I’d better get the poor old dear home.’ An exchanged glance told her that Gilly knew she was being sarcastic.
Gilly got to her feet. ‘Yes, I need to think about what you’ve said.’
Cressida stood up too, evidently happy to get her guests out of the house. ‘But don’t leave it too long. That to-die-for house won’t stay on the market forever!’
It was only by clamping her jaws together and murmuring her goodbyes through clenched teeth that Helena got out of there without being rude to anyone.
‘Would you believe it!’ she said, as soon as she and Gilly were in the car and had driven a few yards away from the house. ‘God! I know that woman is a viper but the cheek of it! Just suggesting you should sell your house so they can buy that stately home is iniquitous!’
‘You don’t think I should go for it, then?’ said Gilly.
Helena braked and pulled into the side of the road. ‘You are joking?’
‘Yes of course!’ said Gilly. ‘Now let’s get home and have something proper to eat.’
But after Helena had finally gone home, Gilly was thoughtful. Like Helena she was outraged at the suggestion that in her mid-fifties she was in need of sheltered accommodation at her son’s house, while giving up her own life to become a nanny – presumably without being paid. But she was the owner of quite a valuable property and while Martin and Cressida didn’t need to live in a seven-bedroomed mansion, Helena could certainly do with some money to buy a studio. Helena had spent the five thousand she’d received at the same time as Martin on a loom and other equipment. It would be wrong to dismiss the idea without giving it some thought. What she needed was someone she could discuss it with, someone with her interests at heart. Of course she wouldn’t go and live with Cressida and Martin but maybe it was time to downsize?
