Out on a Limb by Lynne Barrett-Lee Page B

pretty quick off the mark, Pru and I, but today she’s marginally quicker.
    ‘ Sorry ?’ she rails at him. ‘I beg your pardon, but ‘sorry’? Well, forgive me, but don’t you think that’s just a teensy bit inadequate under the circumstances?’
    H e has the good grace to lower his head slightly at this.
    ‘Yes,’ he admits, ‘it probably is.’ Two women walk past us at this point and I can hear the ‘Is that the man off…’ and ‘Jeepers, it is too!’ conversation swell and ebb as they pass. It must happen all the time. It must be quite distracting. But then he probably deserves it. ‘But,’ he adds, ‘you know, if there’s anything I can do…’
    ‘And just what is it you think you might be able to do exactly?’ I ask him now. ‘Build my mother a shed in your garden?’
    I don’t know if he has a garden, of course, but I’m quite sure he must do. A big one. With a weather vane in it. And one of those things that measure rainfall, most probably. And now he has half of another one, to boot. Humph. ‘I had no idea until this morning,’ he goes on, ignoring me.
    ‘Oh, come on…’ I retort. ‘You expect us to believe that? Isn’t that precisely why you showed up at the funeral?’
    To get his hands on the spoils ? Oh, yes, it’s all becoming horribly clear now. But he ignores that too. Just frowns and turns to Mum. Who responds in the usual Garland fashion when being addressed by a member of the opposite sex who isn’t too old to escape the radar. In the blink of an eye, she’s whipped off the scowl and is suddenly all teeth and eyelashes. ‘What I mean ,’ he explains to her, ‘is that I really had no idea you didn’t know about the house. I’d assumed you were already aware.’ Which I grudgingly suppose I do believe. I mean, the solicitor didn’t, did he? But even so.
    ‘What the hell difference does that make?’ Pru rounds on him angrily, voicing my very thought. ‘The net result is the same. My mother is now effectively homeless!’
    The mother in question rounds on her now. ‘Oh, Prudence!’ she twitters. ‘Goodness gracious me! Will you desist from airing my business all over the street!’
    Pru ignores Mum. This seems to be the day for it. ‘But don’t imagine for a moment that we’re going to take this lying down. That you can just throw an elderly woman on to the street willy-nilly, because believe me –’
    ‘Prudence!’ my mother tinkles faux-smilingly again. ‘I am not elderly!’
    Gabriel Ash looks pained. ‘I don’t –’ he begins.
    ‘Don’t what ?’ retorts Pru. ‘Hmm? Well? Don’t care ?’
    ‘Oh, for goodness ’ sake, girls,’ my mother snaps, finally. And in doing so, reverting seamlessly to the sort of tone that can still stir exit door curtains in the very back of the stalls. ‘Leave the poor man alone, for goodness’ sake! It’s not his fault.’ I’m not sure how she worked that out exactly. I would have said the opposite was true. But, no. He’s a man so he’s forgiven by default. She pats his arm and beams at him. ‘I do apologise for my daughters,’ she coos. ‘It’s been a stressful time for them. I’m sure we can all do this without undue hostility. I’m quite sure we can sort something out.’
    ‘Mother,’ Pru snarls as we drag her away. ‘Stop bloody simpering, for God’s sake!’
    ‘I wasn’t simpering, young lady. I was simply –’
    ‘You were flirting with him, mother.’
    ‘No. Being civil . No situation is ever made better by shouting.’
    ‘M um. You are homeless. This is not a time for civility.’
    Or flirting, for that matter. Good point. ‘And very much a time for shouting, in my book,’ I add.
    But my mother, being my mother and therefore not like other people, goes ‘Goodness. All this fuss ! Girls, calm yourselves, will you?’
    ‘ Calm ourselves?’ Pru barks. I bark nothing. I’m speechless. Just how can she be so relaxed about all this?
    ‘Yes, darlings, calm yourselves. All will be well.