‘Edie! Come in, dear,’ said Mrs Brightman with a big grin on her face. She seemed so happy to have company. I loved how cheerful she was, despite how much time she spent on her own. It made me want to spend more time with her.
I was worried people would take advantage of how kind – and alone – she was. Mum was fiercely protective of her, though. If someone hurt her, I was pretty sure Mum would hunt them down and beat them to a pulp with her hammer.
Ditching my homework, I’d gone over after college to spend some time with her. Mum was spending most of her evenings researching I had no idea what anyway, so it wasn’t like I was missing out on anything other than microwave meals and Tilly snuggles.
‘I’ve put the kettle on. I wasn’t sure how you take your tea, so didn’t want to make one for you.’ She closed the door behind me, then I wrapped her into a hug. She hugged me back.
‘Just milk and three sugars for me,’ I said.
‘Sweet tooth, I see. My kind of girl,’ she said.
She led me through her cosy living room and into the kitchen, where the kettle was boiling and baking ingredients and equipment were all laid out ready.
‘What are we making?’ I asked eagerly.
Most of the baking I’d done had been with Maggie, but I always felt like I was ruining time that should’ve been for Josh and Abigail. I loved Maggie, and I knew she didn’t mind me hanging out at theirs, but it should’ve been my family who taught me how to cook and bake. They’d never had time for things like that, though. Mum had always been too busy wrapped up in her own things, when Dad was alive he’d been awful in the kitchen, and my gran had been…well, Gran.
Mrs Brightman placed a cup of tea on the breakfast bar, beside the geriatric stand mixer.
’That thing looks ancient,’ I said, examining it. The bowl was a light blue plastic, while the mixer itself was white.
‘It’s probably older than you,’ she agreed. ‘What do you say we drink our tea then get started?’
‘Sounds like a plan to me.’
*
We talked about nothing in particular while drinking our teas, getting so carried away we almost forgot what I was there to do. I didn’t mind, though. Talking to her was fun. There was no pretence with her. I didn’t have to pretend to be normal, or happy, or any of that crap. I could just be me.
After a lull in our conversation, she broke the silence by asking: ‘Does your mother ever get lonely?’
‘Why would she get lonely?’ I asked, sipping my second mug of tea.
‘You know. Without a man around the house.’
I laughed so hard, I almost snorted tea out of my nose. As if my mum needed a guy around.
‘Why would she need a man around?’
Mrs Brightman flapped her arms as she spoke: ‘To keep her bed warm at night, of course!’
‘That’s why she got a dog.’
Mrs Brightman laughed. It was a bright, tingling laugh, one that lit up a room. It made me wonder what she would’ve been like when she was younger and more able to do things. A force of nature, I had no doubt.
‘As nice as Tilly is, I’m not sure she can help your mum with everything.’
Before I could reply, a figure floated down through the ceiling. I jumped, not having expected to see one at Mrs Brightman’s. I met his eye. Judging from the photo on the kitchen wall, he was her husband. ‘Sorry. Thought I saw a spider.’
‘How odd,’ said Mrs Brightman. ‘Your mother saw one when she was here the other day, too. Perhaps it was the same one.’
‘Perhaps indeed,’ I said, still looking at Mr Brightman. If he was haunting his wife, Mum had probably seen him, too. She could’ve warned me.
‘Do you mind if I use your toilet please?’
‘Of course not, dear. Top of the stairs. Can’t miss it.’
‘Thanks.’ I stood up, gesturing with my eyes for Mr Brightman to follow me.
He appeared over the bathtub as I locked the door. An old man, dressed in a hospital gown. What an outfit to die in. He had a kindly smile and a twinkle in his eye that I liked.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t think you’d be able to see me.’
‘Even though my mum can?’
‘I didn’t know you were her daughter. I mean, I knew you were visiting, but I didn’t know it was you at the door. Usually I hide when she has guests to give her some privacy, but she was laughing so much! Oh! Such a magical sound. I had to see why.’
‘She was laughing at me,’ I grumbled.
‘Oh?’
‘She thinks my mum needs to meet husband number three.’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh indeed. She’s just come out of a relationship with one—’ I almost swore, then changed my mind just in case he was part of the old generation who didn’t like it ‘–—idiot. Why does she need another?’
‘Indeed. I imagine she’s projecting. Treating your mother as a project, if you will.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When she can’t deal with things, she tends to set her sights on fixing other people’s problems instead. Whether that person thinks they have a problem or not.’
‘I see. So it’s better to let her do her thing?’
He nodded. ‘Will your mum mind?’
‘Probably.’
*
Mum ground her teeth together. ‘No.’
I hadn’t even finished my sentence. Not that it mattered. Her mind was set.
I sat on the sofa opposite her, trying to look contrite. ‘Come on, Mum! You’d be doing the nice old lady a favour!’
‘I already do her lots of favours.’
‘You’d be keeping her mind sharp and occupied.’
She glared at me. ‘I don’t need another man in my life right now. I’ve had enough of them.’
‘What about library guy?’
Mum’s back stiffened. Gotcha. ‘How do you know about him?’
‘Thomas told me.’
‘Who’s Thomas?’
‘You must know him. The kid in the graveyard. He said he spoke to you both the other day.’
‘I didn’t know his name.’
Now that’s bad. She really should’ve thought to ask. If he was alive, she would’ve.
‘Ben and I are just friends, anyway. He’s helping me with some—thing.’ The way she cut herself off suggested she’d almost said something else. I decided to let it go and focus on the original topic instead. She’d end up telling me about what Ben was helping her with eventually. She was a terrible secret keeper.
‘Good,’ I said, bending down to scratch Tilly behind the ears. Before I could, Tilly flopped over onto her back, stretching her legs out for a belly rub. Should’ve seen that coming. A sucker for her cuteness, I rubbed her belly as I carried on talking to Mum. ‘If there’s nothing going on between you and Ben, there’s no harm in you entertaining Mrs Brightman’s matchmaking.’
‘Why is everyone more invested in my love life than me?’
‘I couldn’t care less about your love life. I’m thinking about Mrs Brightman’s mental health.’