Page 87 of Pyg

Prepare for the worst?…

Yes, I’ll break it to them.

Our thoughts and prayers are with her.”

Ruth returned to the kitchen, the colour leached from her cheeks. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, boys, especially on Christmas Day. Your grandmother suffered a stroke this afternoon.”

“Is she dead then?”

“No, Bernard.” Ruth glared at him until he hung his head. “But she’s not at all well. We need to be brave and send all our thoughts and prayers.” Ruth placed a hand on each of our shoulders, which I suppose she meant as a comforting gesture, but her bony fingers were freezing, even through my woolly jumper.

Bernard and I eyeballed each other as Ruth chanted a prayer at double-speed and punctuated the “Amen” with a wet sniff and the sign of the cross.

“Good boys. Now, Father Sutherland sent us a Christmas pudding. Wasn’t that kind of him? I’ll make some custard to go with it. George, clear the table, please.” She fluttered to the stove and set to work.

Bernard tugged my sleeve as I stacked the dirty plates. “What now?” he mouthed.

I could only shrug because I honestly didn’t know. It didn’t feel like entirely bad news — suffering, a stroke or otherwise, was no less than our grandmother deserved after everything she’d inflicted on us. But it didn’t feel like good news either — our fate and future hung in the balance of whether a sick old woman survived. With no Mum around, what would happen if Grandmother died?

Adding Christmas pudding to the mix in my twisting gut suddenly felt like a bad idea.

16

WHY WOULD IT BE DODGY?

Standing in front of the hospital, Alice shivered and hugged her arms around herself. As the daylight faded, so too did the warmth of the spring afternoon, and she regretted not grabbing a coat, but it had seemed like an added faff with her cast. Besides, with all the heat blazing through her in Ash’s presence, extra clothing hadn’t been necessary at the time. The toot of a car horn snapped Alice out of her thoughts. A green Mini pulled up to the curb, and she jumped in.

“What are you like?” Maggie grinned, shaking her head.

“Walking disaster, that’s me.”

“You didn’t have to go to such extreme measures to avoid further exercise.”

“Haha, very funny. Now, thank you for coming to get me, but I have another favour to ask as well.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “What now?”

“Come on, Mags, don’t be a bore. Don’t tell me you have to rush home to cook dinner for your darling husband?”

“Fuck off, Alice.”

Alice smirked.

“It’s Friday, so Markus is cooking tonight. He makes a real effort in the kitchen these days.”

“So he bloody well should.”

Maggie pouted and considered her sister for a moment. “Out with it, then.”

Alice pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled to the note she’d made with George’s address and instructions for finding the spare key. “It shouldn’t take long. I’ve checked and it’s only fifteen minutes away. We need to go here.” She tilted the screen at Maggie.

“Why?” Maggie’s perfectly pruned eyebrows pinched together as she looked at the address.

“Because I said I would.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes. “Is this anything to do with that doctor you fancy?”

Alice tried to bite back her smile. “No, stop it. I don’t?—”

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