Cross’s partner DS Josie Ottey had taken a week off to move house. She had, rather fancifully as it turned out, imagined that moving home would provide a welcome break from the emotional strains and stresses of solving gruesome murder cases. She had neglected to factor in her mother Cherish, who was also moving into the self-contained flat at the bottom of the new house. There had already been more personal politics flying around the kitchen the first morning than at a staff meeting in the MCU discussing involuntary redundancy.
Packing up her flat had taken more time than Josie had allowed. She had decided, eminently sensibly in her opinion, to discard things as she went along. Stuff that had accumulated in the flat and hadn’t been looked at once in the years since they had been carefully put away for safekeeping. The problem was that she kept stopping and studying things out of a nostalgic and affectionate curiosity. There were many little surprises along the way that alleviated the tediousness of the task at hand. She went on to chuck a lot of it, but it became a long-drawn-out, staying-up-until-three-in-the-morning process. Terrible paintings by the children from their toddler years were, however, sacrosanct. This despite teenage howls of embarrassed protest.
The problem with her mother hadn’t really surfaced till Josie and the girls moved into the house themselves. Cherish had moved into her flat a few days earlier, on the day of completion – when they were supposed to, as she continually reminded her daughter. But Josie was wrapping up a case at work and had to postpone, a bone of contention with her mother which set the tone for the day. Cherish announced that she was completely free to help her daughter. It started well but things reached fever pitch when they got into the kitchen. The main problem was that Cherish started putting things in the cupboards she thought most sensible and practical. Unfortunately, this often didn’t align with Josie’s opinion and they clashed in a way that was oddly reminiscent of Carla and Debbie’s, her daughters, daily sibling warfare. It wasn’t so much that Josie disagreed with these choices. It was her mother’s usual presumption that she knew best that really annoyed her.
‘Why have you moved the cutlery?’ she asked her mother as she was about to put a handful of forks into a drawer that now contained neat piles of dishcloths and hand towels.
‘I haven’t. I moved the kitchen tools.’
‘That’s what I meant,’ Josie lied in reply.
‘Because that drawer is under the part of the work surface where I’ll prepare the vegetables when I’m cooking,’ replied Cherish.
‘Why wouldn’t you prepare the vegetables over there?’ Josie asked. ‘I mean, that’s where I would naturally do them.’
‘Because here is above the food waste bin and next to the sink. It makes sense.’
‘What if I don’t want to do my food prep there?’ asked Josie. ‘It is my kitchen, after all.’
Cherish gave her that familiar maternal look which said, wordlessly, don’t talk rubbish.
‘Stop just making a point and fussing about stuff you’re not really bothered about. We both know you’ll be happy just so long as you know where the corkscrew is,’ Cherish finally said.
‘Mum!’ said Josie, genuinely outraged at this portrayal of her, at the same time as being irked at the truth of the statement.
‘Speaking of which, why don’t you put that knowledge to good use right now and get us a drink.’
‘You know what would be more helpful?’ Josie replied.
‘I thought I was being helpful,’ Cherish replied.
‘And you are. It’s just that it’s suspiciously quiet upstairs and I’m worried what the girls are up to. Could you possibly go and check?’ she asked with heightened politeness, immediately giving away the fact that she had a hidden agenda.
‘Sure,’ Cherish muttered, just this side of audibly.
‘What?’ asked Josie, despite her instincts warning her not to rise.
‘Well, it’s just that it might be easier if I continued to organise the kitchen the way I like it, as I tend to use it a lot more than you when I’m looking after the girls,’ she replied. With that grenade of hardcore guilt lobbed with practised precision in her daughter’s direction, she left the room.
Half an hour later they sat in the living room surrounded by packing boxes. There was so much more to do. Josie was beginning to think the week she’d taken off might not be enough. She also knew herself well enough to know that she wouldn’t make time to get properly organised at home once she’d returned to work. She looked around the room and felt uneasy. She didn’t know why, initially. Then it dawned on her. It felt like she was sitting in someone else’s room. It didn’t feel like home.
‘I think we should repaint this room before we unpack,’ she said finally.
‘Really? I quite like it.’
It was an off-white with deeper shades of off-white on the woodwork. It looked like a room hiding in plain sight.
‘You’ll need to take more time off if you want to do that,’ Cherish observed.
‘I can’t do that. We’re short staffed enough as it is.’
But the truth of the matter was that her boss, DCI Ben Carson, had been uncharacteristically accommodating about her taking time off. In fact, he’d insisted she took as much time as she needed. Normally, such requests were greeted with a look of betrayed reproach. Treated like a personal affront of friendship-ending proportions. But this time he’d even given her a lecture about the importance of family in life, as if it were a new concept to her. This was undoubtedly everything to do with the fact that Carson had recently become a father for the first time. He behaved as if it was the first time it had happened to anyone in the history of mankind, which was both irritating and endearing. His smartphone screen was in danger of being worn out with the amount of swiping through photographs he was doing when showing pictures of his baby daughter, Flora, to anyone in his vicinity.
‘But you’re owed so much time off,’ Cherish pointed out.
‘I know but I’m not sure my boss sees that as a problem.’
‘How is he?’
‘All right, as far as I know. But his world’s about to be turned upside down. He and his wife have had their first baby.’
‘Really? I didn’t even know he was married. You never mentioned it.’
‘Why would I?’ Josie asked.
‘I think that’s amazing considering all his… you know, difficulties.’
Josie frowned for a moment then realised what her mother was talking about.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not talking about George, and how many times do I have to tell you, he’s not my boss,’ Josie protested.
‘Well, you say that. But the way he has you running around all the time, I can be forgiven for forgetting. I wonder how he’s getting on without you?’
‘Good question. I do worry about him, to be honest.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t. They’ll have found someone else to work with him,’ Cherish consoled her.
‘That’s exactly what worries me.’
‘Any chance of some more wine?’
Josie reached for the bottle and topped her mother’s glass up. She smiled at her with a sudden rush of love that warmed her stomach like a shot of single malt.
‘I know I don’t say it enough. But I am grateful for everything you do for us,’ she said.
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ Cherish replied. Josie smiled gratefully. ‘You never say it at all.’