Page 57 of The First Mistake

‘What, dear?’ she asked absently as she disappeared into the larder. Tyson waited patiently outside, knowing that a treat was likely to come his way.

‘How are there possibly enough hours in the day to get all this done?’ I asked, as I surveyed the colour-coded event listings. ‘What does this all even mean?’

‘Well, it’s quite simple really,’ she said, pretending to sound put-out. ‘Blue is for the church, orange is for friends, and pink is for me.’

‘How does that help?’ I asked, unable to understand her system.

‘It just means I can prioritize at a glance,’ she said. ‘So, if a blue event comes in and there’s already a pink event scheduled at the same time, I know that I can move it to accommodate the blue event.’

She really is that selfless, but I still felt the need to double-check. ‘So, if there was a blue event and a really important pink event came in, what would you do?’

‘I can’t think of an important enough pink event that would take precedent,’ she said, leaving me in no doubt.

I shivered and pulled my coat around me as I felt the draught again, and was unable to stop myself picking at the flaking paint on the wall.

‘Mum,’ I said carefully, ‘I think the house is in need of some work.’

She stopped stock-still, her hand in mid-air, holding a teaspoon of sugar. ‘Why do you say that?’

I didn’t think I’d need to explain the obvious but attempted it anyway. ‘It’s too cold in here. Look – the curtains are moving. And we ought to get those damp areas looked at – they can’t be good for your chest.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my chest,’ she said indignantly.

‘No, but there will be if that wall stays like it is.’

‘It’ll cost too much,’ she said.

‘But it will be worth it,’ I said, putting an arm on her shoulder. ‘It’s not as if you’re doing anything else with the money. It’s just sitting there.’

‘Well, that’s where I like it,’ she said, bristling, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

‘What are you saving your money for?’ I asked, suddenly serious.

‘For a rainy day,’ she said, moving away from me to put a pan of sweet-smelling berries on the Aga. ‘And for whatever you may need in the future, when I’m no longer here.’

‘But I don’t want you to provide for me, I want you to spend your money on you. On making sure you’re fit and healthy, safe and warm ... I want you to enjoy living here.’

‘I do enjoy living here,’ she said, her voice wobbling ever so slightly. ‘Of course, it’s not the same house that it once was, when you and your father were here, but ...’

‘Do you want to stay here?’ I asked, knowing that if I looked up, she’d be staring at me, horrified that I even needed to ask.

‘Of course,’ she exclaimed.

‘But what about buying something smaller, something more manageable?’ I asked.

‘Oh no,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘The only way I’ll be leaving this place is in a wooden box.’

‘Okay, so if that’s the case, then perhaps we could get some work done, not only to make it more comfortable for you, but to make it look really lovely again,’ I said, over-enthusiastically. ‘We could get all the walls watertight and paint them in bright colours. Maybe even take one or two of them out. Imagine this as a great big space with an island and a new oven.’

‘Oh, I’ll not be getting rid of my Aga,’ she said, defensively. ‘And you can’t take that wall out, because of the wine cellar behind.’

I peered around the door to the windowless store room at the end of the corridor, its bare brick walls housing indistinguishable bottles.

‘What have you got in there?’ I asked, walking towards it. Mum followed me, both of us ducking our heads to clear the low joist.

‘That stuff hasn’t been touched since your dad ... I don’t know why I keep it really, it must be well past its best.’ She attempted to laugh, but I could feel her pain.

‘Oh my goodness, Mum, I can’t even read what these are, there’s so much dust on them.’ A cough caught in my throat and I battled to stop my eyes from watering as I picked up a bottle at random.

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