‘What – a beautiful, younger Frenchwoman with no grey hairs and legs up to her armpits?’ Rita laughed, the sound carrying lightly around the sunlit kitchen. ‘I mean, according to Betty, she nearly got you to fall under her spell, too.’
‘I wish I hadn’t mentioned it now!’ Thom shifted in his chair again. Rita rubbed her stomach again absentmindedly, a gentle reminder of her own resilience. It seemed madness that this tank of a man in front of her had been nestling in the very same place twenty-four years ago, impossible almost.
Thom cleared his throat. ‘I mean you, Mum. You’re beautiful, of course, but it’s not just how you look. It’s everything else, the way you’ve been through so much and never let it break you, the way you care for people without fuss, your humour that sneaks in when no one expects it… that strength, that spark, that’s what makes you… you.’
Rita raised an eyebrow at this unexpected outpouring. ‘Thom, are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘And how’s Poppy?’ Rita kept her voice light.
‘She’s OK.’ Thom sounded dismissive.
‘Thomas Jory?’ Rita quizzed.
‘She’s fine, like I say. She’s fit, she’s quite funny. Maybe a little too serious.’
‘A lot too serious, I say,’ Rita added, without thought.
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ Thom sighed. ‘She’s definitely not the future Mrs Jory, but she’s perfect for being Miss Right Now.’
Rita shook her head and, with an inward smile, flicked the kettle back on for herself. Her son waxing lyrical about her soul while simultaneously being completely obsessed with skin-deep beauty elsewhere made her laugh despite herself.
‘Try not to hurt her, Thom.’
‘I kind of didn’t think she was your cup of tea.’
‘She’s not, but she’s a human being, and now I know you’re not marrying her, I can say that,’ Rita said with a smirk.
Thom smiled that easy, slightly crooked smile that always reminded her of Archie, and for a fleeting moment she wished he were here, wished for the steady comfort he had always given, the sense of security she now missed, before the pregnancy, before all the uncertainty of Jago and everything else. A pang of longing and the nudge of grief twisting through her chest was interrupted by a knock on the door.
It was Stan. ‘Time to keep us all safe and sound, Mrs Jory. Oh, and Jago said can you please check your messages.’
With Thom and Stan outside, Rita turned over her handset and read the message that was sitting there.
I miss you and I really hope you will see me later. J x
A kiss, warmth, and a smiley emoji. Hurrah!
Suddenly feeling a little safer and sounder all round, Rita let out a sigh of relief.
TWENTY-SIX
‘Mum.’ Rita put her handset on speaker as she answered Sennen’s call, and continued doing her make-up.
‘Aren’t I the lucky one; Thom’s just left me and here’s my beautiful girl.’
‘What’s he doing down with you again?’
‘He’s been helping Stan with something and off to see Dan Bligh tonight; they did their A levels together, remember?’
‘Oh yeah, he was fit. I thought he was living in Australia now, though. Anyway, at least Poppy hasn’t got him completely under her spell.’
‘Thank goodness.’ Rita laughed and reached for her blusher brush. ‘Are you OK, darling?’
‘Yes. I’m good. Just wanted to check if the wedding party had booked the yurts for June the third yet? I’d hate them to miss out.’
‘Sorry, I meant to check. I’ll do it right now.’ Rita got up and went to her office, where her laptop was already open. ‘So… yes! Four booked under the name of Stone, three with two people and one single. Oh, looks like Imogen, who is staying here now, has booked the fifth. That’s a surprise.’
