Page 11 of The Vampire and the Case of the Cursed Canine

I wiped away my tears and took a minute to centre myself. I wouldn’t let her keep hurting me. I was an adult; I had a life of my own. I had my pets, my friends, my job and … I had Connor. I’d keep my focus on those positives. I had so much to be grateful for here.

I went to the bathroom to make sure it didn’t look like I’d been crying and grimaced at my reflection. I was splotchy and red. I washed my face and brushed and plaited my hair. I’d promised Mum supper at the diner and I would follow through. Because she’d been a terrible mother didn’t mean I had to be a terrible daughter. We were at rock bottom – things could only improve, right? I took another deep breath and went out to face her.

She was sitting at my kitchen table with Arabella on her knee. She looked up as I walked in. ‘I’ve finished with your phone, darling,’ she said, still looking reserved. ‘Thank you,’ she tacked on hastily.

‘No problem. Do you still want to go out for supper?’ I wasn’t ready to tackle the hand grenade of Liv’s call yet.

‘Absolutely. Let me get myself suitably attired.’

I didn’t ask what Liv had wanted and Mum didn’t volunteer the information. We were back to our safe zone: polite, empty small talk.

I took Fluffy out while I waited for her to get ready, refilled the animals’ water bowls and then, full of nervous energy, I did some much-needed cleaning. After a while, I checked the time: I’d been waiting thirty minutes already.

Mum swanned in. ‘I’m ready, dear!’ she declared.

I stared at her in disbelief. She was wearing a different silk dress, this one in lavender, with heels. Her hair was in a perfect chignon and she was wearing earrings and pearls. She had a full face of makeup. She would stand out at the diner like a unicorn at a rock concert.

‘Aren’t you going to change for dinner?’ she asked, frowning.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing smart jeans and a nice T-shirt. ‘Trust me. I’m overdressed,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s a seven-block walk, Mum. Do you want to change your shoes?’

‘I walk everywhere in these, I’ll be fine. They have a charm in them to make them feel like flats,’ she explained conspiratorially. Now that would have come in handy during my teen years.

Mum shut Arabella in her bedroom so there wasn’t a ruckus between the animals whilst we were out. I turned on the TV for Fluffy and flipped it to one of his new favourite shows; a cooking program with the Hairy Bikers. For all I knew, he enjoyed salivating over the food.

We walked slowly to The Garden of Eat’n. Yes, Mum could walk forever in her heels – I’d seen her do it before and now I knew how. The little sneak. ‘Oh,’ she said, eyes wide, when we stopped in front of the diner. ‘Is this it?’

I thought it was quaint, quintessentially American, but no doubt she only saw the flaking paint and the tired-looking waitress. The Garden of Eat’n had no airs and graces and no one needed a reservation. We went in, found an empty booth and sat.

‘I see why you dressed like you did.’ Mum manoeuvred awkwardly into her seat.

‘I know it doesn’t look much but the food is really good.’ Not Michelin-star good, but good enough. I winced; it wouldn’t be good enough for Mum. What had I been thinking bringing her here?

With pinched lips, she picked up the menu and frowned at the laminated two pages of small print. When she put it down, she rummaged through her designer handbag for a wipe to clean her hands.

‘Is that the only bag you brought?’ I asked, looking at the flowered monstrosity.

‘Of course, darling. I wouldn’t take a Hermès on an aeroplane!’ Her expression was horrified. ‘What do you recommend?’ she asked, still sounding dubious that anything here would be edible.

‘The halibut fish and chips, or the chicken fried steak. Unless you want a full breakfast.’

‘What’s a chicken fried steak?’ she asked.

‘Beefsteak beaten until it’s flat and tender, breaded and deep fried. They serve it with mashed potatoes and cover the whole thing in gravy.’

Mum stared at me aghast. ‘Why on earth would you call beefsteak chicken?’

I shrugged. ‘Beats me.’

‘And that counts as cuisine?’

‘It’s very tasty.’

‘Even so,’ she said faintly, ‘I believe I’ll have the fish and chips.’

To be perverse, I ordered the chicken fried steak. When the waitress left, I braced myself and broached the subject of Liv. ‘So what did Liv have to say?’

‘She was talking about the general game plan.’ It was hilarious to hear my posh mother say something like ‘game plan’. She continued. ‘I’m the first witch to arrive and she said she’d let me know when the others get here so we can work on the barrier gem issue.’

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