Page 170 of The Guilty Girl

‘Yes, and you took your own good time. I want you to bring my bottle-green suit to the cleaners.’

Lottie sighed and moved to the chair beside the bed. ‘It’s after three o’clock in the morning and you drag me here about a green suit. I don’t believe it.’

‘It’s the one I wore to Adam’s funeral. It has a silver brooch on the lapel. Take that off or the cleaners will lose it. Do you know which suit I’m talking about?’

‘Yes, but where do you think you’re going to wear it?’

‘I want to have it ready.’ There was an edge to Rose’s voice that Lottie couldn’t decipher. Still in a nightmare, she concluded.

‘Ready for what?’

Rose shrugged. ‘For when I need it.’

‘I’ve only seen you wear that suit once, so I don’t see why it has to be cleaned.’

‘I want to look good when all those old biddies are staring at me. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of saying Rose Fitzpatrick’s family couldn’t be bothered.’

‘I’m at loss to know what you’re talking about.’ Lottie wished she was back home in bed.

‘I want to wear it in my coffin.’

‘What? Don’t be silly.’

‘I can’t be looking like a washed-up old crone. I have to be smart. Make sure the undertakers don’t cake make-up on my face, and don’t let them near me with red lipstick. I’ve seen some corpses in my lifetime that looked like they were straight out of a Stephen King novel.’

‘Will you stop? This is daft talk.’

‘I want Father Joe, but no singing. Just organ music.’

Deciding to play along, Lottie said, ‘You fell out with the Catholic Church years ago. You hate all that rigmarole.’

‘It would make a better impression to have a Catholic burial.’ Rose leaned over and nudged her. ‘Are you listening to me?’

‘Of course I am.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Who?’

‘I knew you weren’t listening at all.’

Maybe Rose had convinced herself she was going to die, but Lottie wasn’t so sure.

‘I heard you, Mother. Suit to cleaners. Take off brooch. No lipstick. Father Joe. Organ music. No singing. Would you like me to organise soup and sandwiches or canapés for your wake?’

Rose sank back into the pillows. ‘You aren’t taking this seriously. You know my wishes now, but I’ll write them down for you all the same.’

‘That’s fine,’ Lottie said, rising. ‘I’ll send Chloe in tomorrow with paper and a pen.’

‘It might be too late by then.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Make sure to tell your father to wear his good suit.’

Lottie halted at the foot of the bed. Was her mother genuinely confused?

‘Dad died a long time ago.’

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