her quilted silk jacket. ‘Marilyn, here are the baking tins I promised you. Now that I’m getting on I don’t bake as much as I used to, and it’s a waste to leave them in the cupboard gathering dust.’ She handed over a bulging, disintegrating, stained Marks and Spencer carrier bag before turning to her husband. ‘You left the trays of seedlings I promised Marilyn in the car.’
‘I put them at the back door. It’s what you told me to do,’ he reminded her meekly.
‘Good.’ She glanced into the living room and finally acknowledged her sister. ‘Don’t get up, Charlotte.’
‘I won’t. I’m a little dizzy, probably from jet-lag.’
‘Then you won’t mind if I don’t bend to kiss you,’ Greta said tartly. ‘I’m a martyr to arthritis these days.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ A sufferer herself, Charlotte’s commiserations were sincere, but Greta couldn’t resist a snipe.
‘I can’t understand why anyone should find flying tiring when all they have to do is sit in a chair and be waited on by cabin staff.’
‘Perhaps it’s the five-hour time difference.’ Charlotte gazed at Greta as she swanned into the living room. She would be ninety-four in a few months, but had retained the slim figure they had both inherited from their mother, and, with her grey hair rinsed pale-blonde, she looked twenty years younger than her true age. However, she still had the habit of pursing her mouth and looking disapprovingly at the world. It was an expression Charlotte remembered well.
‘I’ll call Luke. He’ll want to say hello to you, Aunt Greta, Uncle John. And to you, of course, Mother.’ Jeremy went to the stairs and bellowed his seventeen-year-old son’s name, leaving Charlotte wondering why Jeremy hadn’t called him when she’d arrived.
‘Luke spends every minute he can in the attic playing computer games,’ Marilyn explained when Jeremy yelled his son’s name a second time.
Greta lowered herself on to the other easy chair and arranged herself comfortably, leaving her husband to sit between Jeremy and Marilyn on the sofa. ‘I see you’re looking well, Charlotte, but then, you have no excuse not to. Unlike us married ladies who have husbands to care for, you have nothing to do all day except pamper yourself.’
‘You know me. I’ve always been a stickler for brushing my hair and cleaning my teeth,’ Charlotte retorted.
Greta eyed Charlotte’s long, large-beaded amber necklace, teardrop earrings and bracelets. ‘I see you’re wearing Mama’s amber.’
Charlotte only just managed to quell her annoyance at the comment. ‘You know full well all the family jewellery was lost in the war, Greta.’
‘So you say.’
Greta’s scepticism set Charlotte’s teeth on edge. ‘I bought the bracelets and earrings in the Dominican Republic in the seventies. They have fine amber there.’
‘And the necklace?’
‘Is the one I was given on the 1939 Allenstein orchestral tour of Russia.’ Charlotte fingered her beads.
‘Given?’ Greta raised her finely pencilled eyebrows.
‘By the host family I stayed with in Moscow.’
‘Russians!’ Greta exclaimed.
‘It was a tour of Russia, arranged by the German and Russian authorities, Greta. The countries were allies at the time.’
‘I don’t remember you ever receiving a present as magnificent as that from strangers,’ Greta commented.
‘They weren’t strangers to me, Greta.’
‘Obviously, if they were that generous.’ Greta placed her handbag on her lap and wrapped her hands around it as though it was in imminent danger of being stolen.
‘Oma! How long have you been here? It’s great to see you.’ Luke ran in, sat on the arm of Charlotte’s chair, flung his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek. ‘Those are fantastic games you sent me for Christmas.’
‘Claus thought you’d like them.’ Charlotte opened the airline bag she’d carried in with her and extracted a parcel. ‘And he sent you these. He was going
‘I put them at the back door. It’s what you told me to do,’ he reminded her meekly.
‘Good.’ She glanced into the living room and finally acknowledged her sister. ‘Don’t get up, Charlotte.’
‘I won’t. I’m a little dizzy, probably from jet-lag.’
‘Then you won’t mind if I don’t bend to kiss you,’ Greta said tartly. ‘I’m a martyr to arthritis these days.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ A sufferer herself, Charlotte’s commiserations were sincere, but Greta couldn’t resist a snipe.
‘I can’t understand why anyone should find flying tiring when all they have to do is sit in a chair and be waited on by cabin staff.’
‘Perhaps it’s the five-hour time difference.’ Charlotte gazed at Greta as she swanned into the living room. She would be ninety-four in a few months, but had retained the slim figure they had both inherited from their mother, and, with her grey hair rinsed pale-blonde, she looked twenty years younger than her true age. However, she still had the habit of pursing her mouth and looking disapprovingly at the world. It was an expression Charlotte remembered well.
‘I’ll call Luke. He’ll want to say hello to you, Aunt Greta, Uncle John. And to you, of course, Mother.’ Jeremy went to the stairs and bellowed his seventeen-year-old son’s name, leaving Charlotte wondering why Jeremy hadn’t called him when she’d arrived.
‘Luke spends every minute he can in the attic playing computer games,’ Marilyn explained when Jeremy yelled his son’s name a second time.
Greta lowered herself on to the other easy chair and arranged herself comfortably, leaving her husband to sit between Jeremy and Marilyn on the sofa. ‘I see you’re looking well, Charlotte, but then, you have no excuse not to. Unlike us married ladies who have husbands to care for, you have nothing to do all day except pamper yourself.’
‘You know me. I’ve always been a stickler for brushing my hair and cleaning my teeth,’ Charlotte retorted.
Greta eyed Charlotte’s long, large-beaded amber necklace, teardrop earrings and bracelets. ‘I see you’re wearing Mama’s amber.’
Charlotte only just managed to quell her annoyance at the comment. ‘You know full well all the family jewellery was lost in the war, Greta.’
‘So you say.’
Greta’s scepticism set Charlotte’s teeth on edge. ‘I bought the bracelets and earrings in the Dominican Republic in the seventies. They have fine amber there.’
‘And the necklace?’
‘Is the one I was given on the 1939 Allenstein orchestral tour of Russia.’ Charlotte fingered her beads.
‘Given?’ Greta raised her finely pencilled eyebrows.
‘By the host family I stayed with in Moscow.’
‘Russians!’ Greta exclaimed.
‘It was a tour of Russia, arranged by the German and Russian authorities, Greta. The countries were allies at the time.’
‘I don’t remember you ever receiving a present as magnificent as that from strangers,’ Greta commented.
‘They weren’t strangers to me, Greta.’
‘Obviously, if they were that generous.’ Greta placed her handbag on her lap and wrapped her hands around it as though it was in imminent danger of being stolen.
‘Oma! How long have you been here? It’s great to see you.’ Luke ran in, sat on the arm of Charlotte’s chair, flung his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek. ‘Those are fantastic games you sent me for Christmas.’
‘Claus thought you’d like them.’ Charlotte opened the airline bag she’d carried in with her and extracted a parcel. ‘And he sent you these. He was going
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