Helena giggled. ‘To home-made shortbread. Oh, what a wicked granny you are!’
Helena spent the journey wondering if she should mention her suspicions about her sister-in-law’s motives behind inviting them both to lunch to see if Gilly confessed to thinking the same thing. But she knew her mother didn’t like it when she said unpleasant things about Cressida and so didn’t want to do it unless it was really justified.
She parked outside the sleekly modern house, which had a steep drive that didn’t encourage visiting vehicles. Helena and her mother sat in the car for a few seconds, bracing themselves. ‘I hope you’re wrapped up warm,’ said Gilly eventually.
‘Mum! It’s April!’
‘Only just! And that house is always cold, but Cressida is always warm. It’s the running.’
Helena shuddered. Her sister-in-law’s addiction to running always unsettled her. ‘Let’s go in.’
Martin, her brother, greeted her with a hug and a ‘Hey, Sis.’
His wife, who was tall as well as thin, was dressed in black. Her hair was pulled back into a very tidy ponytail and she was wearing silver jewellery. Her make-up was pale and either didn’t include lipstick or she was using one the same shade as her foundation.
Her welcome was a bit more gushing than her husband’s. She smiled at Helena and kissed Gilly on both cheeks and patted her shoulder. The little girl, Ismene, who was five years old and serious, said, ‘Good morning, Grandma and Helena.’
Helena winced for her mother. Gilly was a devoted grandmother but she hated being called Grandma. However, in spite of her expressing her dislike of it when Ismene was tiny, Cressida had insisted this was how she was to be addressed. Cressida was big on proper names.
‘So, come along in,’ said Martin, ushering them through to the sitting room.
Although the room was cold, there was no fire in the super-modern fireplace. But even if the underfloor heating had been on, it would always be chilly. Helena felt it was something about the décor, which was white and mauve with black accents.
The look that Cressida gave Helena’s feet was clear – she wanted Helena to take off her shoes. Helena ignored the message. She was cold enough even though she had put on a warm cardigan before coming and she couldn’t cope with just socks. She wouldn’t have objected to being asked to remove her shoes had she been offered fluffy slippers to replace them but there was nothing fluffy in this house. She noticed that Cressida hadn’t given her mother the silent ‘take off your shoes’ message. Just for a moment Helena wished that one of them had stepped in dog poo.
‘Sherry, Martin!’ ordered Cressida crisply.
Helena refused sherry but noted that the fact it was offered meant it wasn’t just an ordinary lunch. She noticed her mother accepting, obviously needing alcoholic support.
‘Well, this is nice!’ said Gilly, halfway through her tiny glass. ‘When were we all together last?’
‘Christmas?’ suggested Helena. ‘Ismene has grown, anyway. Hey?’ She crouched down to address the little girl directly. ‘When you grow out of your shoes can I have them? They are so cool!’
Ismene frowned. ‘Don’t be silly, Aunt Helena, your feet are much bigger than mine.’
Helena looked down at her trainers. ‘Oh, so they are. What a shame.’
‘Ma,’ said Martin. ‘We want to ask you something.’
‘Wait until after lunch, Martin!’ said Cressida. ‘We discussed this!’
‘Maybe we’d better have lunch then, if it’s ready,’ said Gilly.
‘Have another glass of sherry first, Ma,’ said Martin.
‘Although lunch is ready,’ said Cressida. ‘It’s only soup and salad.’
‘I’d love another sherry, Martin,’ said Gilly.
Helena wished she could join her. She knew that technically she may well be able to drink a small amount and still be safe to drive but she would never take the risk.
Gilly seemed to get through her second glass of sherry fairly quickly and they were ushered into the icy dining room with amazing views and a glass table. The surface of it was so cold that Helena was reluctant to let her wrists touch it. Perhaps the tabletop was a deliberate ploy to encourage good table manners. Cressida was very keen on table manners.
They started with a thin soup that may well have been hot when it left the saucepan but by the time it had been poured into enormous, icy plates, it was tepid. It also had no apparent seasoning. But still it was bound to be healthy and meant Helena could have a full-fat sausage roll or, indeed, almost anything else to compensate afterwards.
‘Did you know,’ said Cressida, ‘that you can lose weight just by not eating after seven o’clock at night and not having breakfast until nine o’clock. It’s not as good as doing twenty-four hour fasting, in my opinion, but you may find it helpful.’ She smiled at Helena as if she’d just asked her how Cressida kept her lovely figure, which she hadn’t.
‘I’m so glad it works for you, Cressida,’ said Helena sweetly, ‘but although you’ve tried before, I’m not interested in diets that make me think about food all the time. In fact, I’m not interested in diets at all. I’m perfectly happy with my shape.’
Cressida shrugged. ‘I was only trying to be helpful.’
‘We know,’ said Gilly, patting her daughter-in-law’s hand. ‘And you do always look so lean and fit, it obviously works.’
‘Personally, I’m only interested in diets that have Greggs’ sausage rolls on them,’ said Helena. Aware that everyone, including her five-year-old niece, was looking at her in horror, she went on: ‘I just mean, if I want a sausage roll I’m going to have one.’
‘No wonder you’re a bit—’ Cressida began.
‘Porky?’ suggested Martin.
‘I am not porky!’ said Helena.
‘Children!’ said Gilly. ‘Helly, Martin was only teasing. Don’t rise to it.’
Martin grinned. ‘If you eat pork, you’ll be porky.’
‘Anyway!’ said Cressida, getting up. ‘Let’s move on. I’ll get the salad.’
The salad was colourful and quite tasty with its ‘squeeze of lemon juice instead of an oily dressing’, as Cressida proudly announced. It wasn’t very filling though and Helena wondered if she could raid the box of shortbread when she helped clear up. She could do it while Cressida – or Martin – went to get more dirty plates from the table. But she lost hope in this plan when she realised how few plates there were for five people.
Cressida put a fruit bowl on the table. ‘We never have puddings in the middle of the day. But do help yourselves.’
Helena took an orange and pulled her side plate in front of her. ‘I love oranges,’ she said, ‘but would you really class them as pudding?’
‘There’s a lot of sugar in fruit,’ said Cressida, ‘which is why I limit it.’
Gilly didn’t speak but Helena noticed her press her lips together and then take a breath to say something. ‘So, what’s your “exciting plan”, Cressida?’ she said, making the inverted commas audible.
Cressida laughed. ‘Oh! I was going to wait until we were sharing a nice cup of tea, later. I’ve got some new organic herb tea that is a super detox.’