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“Oh! Sure. I’d like that. Thanks.”
Frances turned away, heart suddenly light, as though she’d received an unexpected gift. When she glanced back, Lucie was making no effort to hide her delight, which only made more of that enticingly familiar warmth spread through her.
“Hi, Mum.”
With no response forthcoming, Frances approached her chair to find her absorbed in Singin’ in the Rain. Her hand rose and gave a vague wave of acknowledgement. Frances squeezed it and left her to it.
“I can’t thank you enough for those tapes,” she told Lucie as she washed her hands to prepare for dinner. “She really seems to find peace in them.”
“I’m glad they are being enjoyed again,” Lucie enthused. “She’s watched My Fair Lady every day this week. I’m not sure how much of it she’s following, but we have a good old sing-along with the music. It always brightens her. She had us dancing earlier.”
“She’s always loved to dance, and she knows the story so well I doubt she’s forgotten it. Wine?” she added, desperate for a glass herself.
“Oh, erm...”
“Please do. I can’t remember the last time I shared a bottle of wine with another human being.”
Lucie gave a small shrug. “Then I’d love one.”
“Great. I’m making cottage pie, so I’ll open a bottle of red, if that suits?”
“Sounds perfect. Shall I peel the potatoes?”
“Are you sure? I didn’t ask you to stay so you could help.”
“I like to keep busy.”
“Good. I hate peeling.”
Frances pulled out a chopping board, loaded it up with potatoes, and handed Lucie a peeler. “I noticed the lovely wreath on the front door,” she said, dropping some mince into a saucepan.
“That was our afternoon project,” Lucie said, perching on a stool at the breakfast bar. “We took a short walk, collected some bits for it. Your mum found a reel of wire in a toolbox, and we were away. I hope it doesn’t fall apart by tomorrow.”
“I’m sure it won’t.”
“You don’t mind us going for a walk?”
“No,” she replied quickly, then more cautiously added, “Did anyone see you... or say anything?”
“No. I tried to blend in with the crowds. I wasn’t sure if you wanted people knowing I am looking after her, what with the previous rumours about... us.”
Frances glanced up from the onion she was chopping, and their eyes caught. Neither of them looked away until the sharp scent stung at her eyes.
Unsure why she had even asked, Frances said, “I’m sure word has spread round by now about Mum.”
“I expect so.”
“People will think what they want. Rumours don’t last forever.”
Lucie’s attention turned back to the chopping board. “No,” she said quietly. “They don’t.”
After dinner, they settled around the television to watch Chitty Chitty Bang Bang at Lucie’s insistence, a childhood favourite. Frances hadn’t watched it in decades and had forgotten how enjoyable it was. She hadn’t, however, forgotten the words to “You Two” when her mum suddenly broke into song.
Rose turned towards them as she sang, her voice frailer than it once was but still steady on the melody: “Someone to care for; to be there for. I have you two.”
Frances swallowed, startled by how much meaning those few words carried. For a fleeting second, her mum seemed entirely herself again, knowing exactly who sat beside her. As they sang along, Frances found herself wondering how long that clarity would last.
The warmth of Lucie beside her on the sofa, her shoulder pressed lightly against her own, brought some reassurance. After carrying everything alone for so long, having someone there who understood the weight of it all eased something inside her.
