Page 2 of The Cosy Travelling Christmas Shop

‘Meh, the usual crap. That’s what you buy people when you can’t be arsed to think of anything.’

‘Aunty! You can’t use words like—’ Seren lowered her voice even though there wasn’t anyone else in the room and glanced over her shoulder before saying, ‘—arsed.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s not exactly ladylike, is it?’

‘How old are you?’

‘You know perfectly well how old I am,’ Seren retorted.

‘Seventy, is it? Maybe sixty-five? No one in their right mind would think you’re only twenty-eight the way you talk. Ladylike? Pah! That kind of thing went out years ago, along with sitting with your legs crossed at the ankles.’

‘It’s a good idea if you’re wearing a short skirt,’ Seren pointed out.

Nelly narrowed her eyes. The creases around them deepened so much that her pupils were barely visible. ‘Stop trying to change the subject.’

‘What subject?’

‘Present buying.’

‘Oh, that.’

‘Yes, that. Got any other suggestions? Ones where it seems like you actually care?’

‘I do care but, like you, I’ve got no idea what this man does, or doesn’t, like. What did you get the last new resident?’

‘Funeral flowers. She died within a week.’

‘Gosh. Oh, dear. I see. Um… that’s awful.’

‘Not for her, it wasn’t. Heart attack in her sleep. She knew nothing about it. Lucky cow. That’s the way I want to go. And the sooner the better if you ask me.’

‘Yes, well, erm… how about a nice pair of slippers? I’m sure you can find out what size he takes.’

Seren didn’t want to hear a repeat of how much her aunt didn’t want to be here. And she wasn’t referring to the care home, either. As far as Nelly was concerned, she was past her live-by date and should have been called home to heaven long before now. Not that the old lady believed in heaven, or hell for that matter – she just wanted an end to it because she was tired of being so old and frail, and she shared those thoughts frequently with anyone who’d listen. No doubt this new resident was in for an ear-bashing about it and Seren didn’t envy him. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Edwin something-or-other. I forget his surname. That’s the problem when you get to my age – you lose your memory as well as your bladder control.’

‘It’ll be nice for you to have someone new to talk to,’ Seren said, ignoring the waterworks comment and trying not to say anything that might set her aunt off. Nelly was clearly out of sorts today.

‘I’m not giving him slippers. The rellies always make sure you have new slippers, a new dressing gown and new pyjamas when you come into a place like this. They must think it’s like being in a sodding hospital and that you’re in bed all day. Fat chance.’

‘You’d hate lying in bed all day.’

‘I hate daytime TV even more.’

‘What have they got organised for this afternoon?’ There was always at least one organised activity a day, usually more, and Seren knew her aunt sometimes took part.

‘A quiz.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘No, it’s not.’

OK, then… Seren resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her aunt’s unreasonableness.

Nelly scowled. ‘I want something for Dorothy, too. It’s her birthday next week.’ Before Seren could say anything, she continued, ‘And don’t suggest chocolates, smellies or hankies. She’ll get enough of that rubbish off her kids. No imagination, any of them. Grr.’

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