It was exhausting. Especially when Laura knew it was Jess that Mum had wanted anyway.
Eventually, Jess stopped crying and blew her nose.
‘Okay?’ Laura said. Jess nodded. ‘Right, let’s cheer you up with some to-do lists.’
Billy burst into the kitchen. The girls followed in his wake, looking solemn. ‘Grandma’s dead!’ Billy sing-songed. ‘She’s in heaven with Roger!’
Was this normal four-year-old behaviour? Or was Laura’s sweet, mussy-haired baby actually a psychopath?
Billy scratched his head. ‘We need biscuits!’
‘Do you mind?’ Laura said to Jess, wondering if Jess’ whole family had given up sugar with her. If she tried to make Billy give up sugar it would immediately eliminate eight foods from the list of ten he deemed acceptable.
Jess said it was fine and Laura handed out the biscuits.
When the kids disappeared Laura made a face. ‘Do you think that “Grandma’s dead” thing is normal?’
Jess laughed. ‘Yes! He’s a baby. He doesn’t understand what death means.’
Laura suddenly loved her sister so fiercely it was as if all those years of petty fights were wiped out in an instant. Hell, at this moment she could almost forgive her stealing her platform sandals, even if it was the day of the sixth-form prom and even if Laura had planned her whole outfit around them.
‘How are you getting on with the Order of Service?’
Laura was pleased to be asked this. Despite the fact she’d ended up reading Billy not one, not two but three extra stories last night when he couldn’t sleep, she’d still worked on the Order of Service late into the night. It was the one thing on her list she’d actually made good progress with. ‘Pretty good. Do you want to have a look?’ She opened the file and pushed her laptop in Jess’ direction.
There was the world’s longest pause before Jess said, ‘I think it’s a great start.’
Laura dug her nails into her palms. ‘But?’
‘Is that typeface very “Mum”? And don’t you think we should include a couple of photos?’
Laura pulled the laptop out of Jess’ hands and snapped it shut. She was a writer, for goodness sake. She could knock up an Order of Service without being micromanaged. And even if Jess had strong opinions on EVERYTHING from the flowers to the food, Laura would be The Boss of the Order of Service.
‘I think it looks great,’ Jess said.
Laura snorted. Never trust a woman who steals your new shoes.
Chapter Eight
Laura had one tab open on party-bag gifts and one on flowers for the coffin.
Flowers for the coffin weren’t actually on her list because Jess had appointed herself High Priestess of Tasteful Flowers, but she was getting on Laura’s nerves so much, Laura was tempted to order something super-tacky just to spite her. She’d sent Laura fourteen messages since she’d visited yesterday – fourteen! Just checking you’ve done this, just checking you’ve done that. Like Laura couldn’t be trusted (she couldn’t, in point of fact, but Jess didn’t know that).
Laura scrutinized a heart-shaped pink and white chrysanthemum spray – that would infuriate Jess. Then she stumbled across an arrangement spelling ‘Mum’ in carnations – better still!
‘What are you up to?’ Jon said, appearing behind her.
‘Trying to find flowers Jess will really hate for Mum’s coffin.’
‘Mature!’
They both laughed.
‘Oh, my goodness, look at these!’ She pointed to a floral arrangement that had been crafted into a giant mobile phone. ‘Can you imagine Jess’ face?’ Jon grinned. One of the lovely things about having been with Jon for over a decade was that they hardly ever had to explain anything to each other. Let’s face it, if you told someone you’d recently started dating you were thinking of ordering hideous funeral flowers just to annoy your sibling, they’d think you were more than a little unhinged.
Laura glanced at the time. ‘Shouldn’t you have left for work by now?’
Jon shrugged. ‘Yeah, I’m running a little late. I was really getting somewhere with the writing this morning so I didn’t want to stop.’
Laura knew full well he’d only got up half an hour ago but she said nothing.
‘Anyway,’ Jon said. ‘What’s the worst they can do? Fire me?’
‘Well, that would be quite bad.’
‘Would it? I’m a manager in a crappy pizza place. It’s not like it’s my dream job. I’m at a stage in my life where I’d really like to be able to concentrate on my writing.’
There were so many things Laura wanted to say. Did he think every minute of her working life was a breeze? Did he realize that while he may find his boss Greg annoying, her editor wasn’t exactly a delight? Also, if Jon cared so much about his novel, why didn’t he spend more time writing the bloody thing? After all, the muse was unlikely to pitch up in the Hope & Anchor. ‘It’s a job though, isn’t it? And we need the money.’
Jon shrugged as if she’d mentioned something incredibly trivial.
Laura swallowed down a football-sized lump of irritation. She’d told Jon over and over again that Natter magazine was in trouble. That the team had been cut not just to the bone but to the marrow. That the subs desk was now just one lonely – albeit scary – sub/proofreader and Laura now did the work that three people used to do (without any increase in pay, naturally). She’d told him that all around her, titles had closed and no one would be surprised to see Natter go the same way. ‘I just wouldn’t take my job for granted.’
Jon brushed the comment aside. ‘We’ll be fine.’
Would they? If Laura did find herself out of work, she wasn’t entirely sure how easy she would find it to get another job or to find freelance work. There were a lot of unemployed journalists out there, most of whom probably had CVs way more impressive than hers. She would never forget her mother’s face when she’d told her she’d been promoted to Real Life Features Editor at Natter. Underwhelmed doesn’t really cover it.
‘It would be good if you didn’t get yourself fired,’ Laura said.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Jon replied, grinning. ‘Shall I avoid calling Greg a knob to his face then?’
Despite herself, Laura laughed. ‘If you could.’ She mustn’t wind herself up about nothing. Jon might not be Mr Nine-to-Five but he wasn’t completely reckless. Plus, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that Natter would survive the inexorable ‘pivot to digital’ she was sick to bloody death of hearing about.
‘By the way,’ Jon said. ‘I might need to borrow a bit of cash, just to get me through until the end of the month.’
Just like last month, Laura thought, and then she checked herself because surely she hadn’t become that person? She and Jon were a team; what was hers was his and (theoretically) vice versa. ‘Of course.’
‘Thanks,’ Jon said. ‘Hey, talking of money, you’ll be coming into some, won’t you?’
‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ Laura said, taking a swig of Gaviscon and clicking back to party-bag gifts. ‘Mum probably left everything to Jess.’ She scrolled down the page. ‘Are whistles a bad idea for the party bags? Probably.’