Page 58 of Her Last Walk Home

‘Why do you need ten mats?’ Sergio asked from the sofa. He had the television on with the sound down low.

‘I’m going to have a big house. Bryan’s house is too small. He had plans drawn up to extend it.’

‘And when is the wedding?’

‘June.’

Boyd nearly choked. ‘This June? That’s not too long away.’

‘We have February, March, April and May to get through first, so it’s not tomorrow.’

Was she making a joke? He reckoned she was deadly serious. Grace didn’t joke. Well, she used not to joke.

‘Why am I only hearing about this now?’

‘You never asked.’

She was right there. He’d been so caught up in his own life, he’d rarely contacted her. Not until he needed her. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have checked in with you more often.’

‘You should have.’

‘When can I meet Bryan?’

‘He works on the farm from six in the morning until seven in the evening, daily. He goes to the pub Saturday nights and Mass on Sundays. So you can find a time to suit.’

Not sure what all that meant, he decided to leave it there. ‘This stew is really excellent.’

‘You should know by now that anything I do, including cooking, is always to a high standard.’

‘I know.’ And he hoped Grace’s sixty-four-year-old future husband, whom he’d never heard of until a few minutes ago, understood her too. He could not sit by and watch his sister get hurt.

The house was like an ice box. Lottie felt the cold air hit her in the face as she shut the front door behind her. She shrugged off her boots, hung up her coat and made her way to the kitchen, hoping it would be warmer than the hall. Fat chance. But she forgot the cold when she noticed Rose sitting at the table.

‘What are you doing here, Mother?’ She immediately realised that her words sounded wrong. ‘I mean, it’s great to see you, but it’s late.’

‘If it’s that late, you shouldn’t be out. Where were you till this time?’

‘Working.’

‘Where?’

‘At the station.’

‘Was your father…?’ Rose stopped as if suddenly realising she was living in the wrong era. ‘Oh. This head of mine. Sorry. I confuse everything.’

Lottie watched as her mother fiddled with a spoon, stirring it in an empty mug, and rushed to sit by her side. ‘Are you allright? Stay here tonight. Or I can go over to yours. Would you like that?’

‘No, no. I’m fine.’ Rose stared at her, an opaque glaze filtered over her eyes. ‘I don’t know why I’m here.’

‘You brought groceries, Gran,’ Chloe said, appearing from the utility room zipping up her coat.

‘I think they were for myself. Or maybe not.’

Putting her hand over her mother’s to still the futile stirring, Lottie asked gently, ‘Have you eaten?’

‘I think so. Maybe.’

‘I’ll find something in the freezer. Fish and chips sound okay to you? I’m starving.’

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