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As Lucie turned to leave, Frances touched her arm.
“Thank you. For being here. And for always knowing what to do.”
“You’ll learn what’s best for your mum. It’s one long learning curve.”
Her heart twinged as Frances offered a half smile in return. She was unlikely to have any choice but to figure everything out.
After dinner, they watched television until Rose yawned and said she wanted to go to bed. Frances took her upstairs and returned twenty minutes later.
“That’s Mum settled. I think I shall make some tea and head to bed myself. Feel free to stay up if you like.”
“I’m done in too. I’ve got a few things to sort before my meeting tomorrow, so I’ll take my laptop up.”
“Tea?”
“Please,” Lucie said, following her into the kitchen.
Frances switched on the kettle and took two mugs off a mug tree. “How are you getting on with your laptop?”
“It’s great.”
“It was a generous present from Mandy. She’s really like a mum to you, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and in some ways like a big sister. I suppose that might change now that she and Dad are seeing each other.”
“How is that going?”
Lucie shrugged lightly. “Hard to say. On the surface, not much has changed. They were always together. I imagine the things that are different are the things I don’t need to see... or hear.”
Frances laughed. “Yes, I expect so.”
The kettle clicked off, drawing Frances’s attention away as she poured.
Mugs in hand, they headed upstairs. Frances paused outside Lucie’s door. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you, and thanks again for all this. You have a lovely home.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Lucie’s hand rested on the door handle. “Well... good night, Frances.”
“Good night, Lucie.”
They stood still in the hall, as though neither of them quite knew how to end the moment. Lucie glanced at Frances, a small smile tugging at her lips as she finally pushed the door open.
She felt Frances’s presence linger for a second longer before the quiet click of the door closed the space between them. Leaning back against it, she exhaled slowly, aware that the simple act of saying good night to Frances was never quite as simple as it should be.
CHAPTER 18
Frances woke with a start the following afternoon. She hadn’t meant to nod off, and a quick glance at her watch had her bolt upright in bed. Time was getting on, and she still needed to make dinner before they left for the theatre.
She hurried to the bedroom door, only to be met by the most delicious aroma as she opened it. Following it to the kitchen, she discovered Lucie making dinner.
“When did you get back, and what are you making?”
“About an hour ago, and this is Botswana stew,” Lucie said, stirring the saucepan, which smelled redolently of tender beef and onions.
“You really didn’t need to cook, but it smells delicious.”
