‘Just a clash of personalities.’
‘That’s an understatement if ever I heard one,’ Phyllie muttered as Hannah walked into the room.
At least she’d changed, was Nat’s first thought. It was unlikely her sister had worn the skinny black jeans and beige, curved-hem jumper to work. She usually had her chestnut-brown hair tied back or up in a messy bun for work, not hanging loosely around her shoulders as she did now. She looked quite relaxed compared to the usual uptight way she presented herself. Nat’s eyes travelled to her sister’s feet. She couldn’t help it. Which boots would she be wearing today? It had become a joke, Hannah’s obsession with boots.
A red wedge heel. That was a surprise, although she did vaguely recall Hannah boring them all about the need to rotate footwear so as not to overuse one particular set of muscle groups or joints.
Phyllie stood when Hannah entered the room so that her granddaughter could hug her. ‘How are you, love?’
‘Good thanks, Phyllie. You?’
‘Very sprightly, thank you. Full of beans, in fact, and ready to run a few miles after I leave here.’
Nat raised an eyebrow, which she ignored. Phyllie had shirked the title of grandmother when, at age two, Nat had sat on her lap stroking her hair, saying, ‘What a pretty young filly.’ She was parroting her mother’s words after Nat had watched her grooming her favourite horse, not realising that the name Phyllie had come from her grandmother’s real name of Phyllis. Nat had refused to believe this was the case. ‘It’s the name you call the things you love,’ she’d insisted. Knowing the sentiment behind it, Phyllie insisted they all refer to her by her first name from that day forward.
Hannah turned to Nat. ‘How’s work?’
Nat gritted her teeth. Not how are you, Nat? What’s new in your life? Have you seen any good movies? Always straight to work. Today was not the day to ask.
‘Fine.’ She took another sip of her drink, her eyes moving to her father’s bookcase, which ran the length of an entire wall. It was full of thrillers and had a shelf dedicated to new releases he had yet to read. It looked like he’d added at least five new titles since she’d last been here.
The silence in the room was broken when her father walked in with a glass of champagne. He handed it to Hannah just as her phone rang. She set the glass down and somewhat reluctantly took the phone from her pocket. Her face paled as she glanced at the screen before cancelling the call.
‘Everything alright, love?’ Phyllie asked.
Hannah nodded before slipping the phone back into her pocket. Nat frowned. How very un-Hannah-like to not answer a call. Usually she’d make a huge performance about everyone being quiet while she took it, or would leave the room.
Her father cleared his throat. ‘Sue will be in in a minute, and then I’ll go and find Amy, who I’m guessing has headed out the back to play with Toby. We should have a toast for your mother before the night gets underway.’ He looked from Hannah to Nat. ‘I hope everyone has remembered exactly why we’re here tonight.’
‘Of course.’ Hannah looked pointedly at Nat. ‘Think you can manage to keep tonight drama-free?’
Hannah’s words, implying she was the one that caused their dramas, sliced into Nat like a knife. Five minutes. It had taken less than five minutes for Hannah to get her first dig in.
Phyllie clapped her hands together. ‘Enough.’ She held up her empty champagne flute. ‘One of you top this up, please. If I have to put up with this kind of nonsense, I’ll need plenty of bubbles.’
Following Damien’s arrival and numerous toasts for their mother’s birthday, Sue placed a platter of nibbles on the coffee table and suggested they all relax before dinner.
Phyllie remained standing and moved in front of the crackling fire, warming her hands while the others sank on to the comfortable couches.
Nat noticed Sue frowning as she studied Phyllie’s back.
‘You’re unusually quiet today, Phyllie,’ Sue said. ‘Everything alright?’
All eyes went to the matriarch.
Phyllie nodded and turned to face them, her lips pursed. ‘Just observing my lovely family. Missing my daughter-in-law and reflecting on what a wonderful mother and wife she was.’
‘I don’t know, Mum,’ Nat’s father said. ‘As much as I’d like to believe you’re standing there thinking lovely thoughts about Carmel, I can almost hear your mind ticking over. What’s going on? Is something worrying you?’
Phyllie sighed and moved to the rustic wingback armchair closest to the fire. ‘I guess I’m sick of the fact that the world considers me to be an old woman.’
‘But you are, Phyllie.’ Amy stretched her legs out towards the fire. ‘You’re eighty-nine. That’s ancient.’
‘Thanks, love.’ Phyllie gave a wry smile. ‘What you’ll realise when you get to my age is that your body feels old and has aches, but your mind’s as sharp as it was fifty years ago.’
‘I don’t think of you as old,’ Nat said. ‘You’re amazing. I think you’ll be ticking along for years after we’re all dead and buried.’
Phyllie smiled. ‘Thank you, Nat. But I think you’ll find some people here disagree with you. Some people think I should be put away – taken from my home and locked up.’
Silence descended on the room.
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ her son eventually asked. ‘Who said that?’
Phyllie looked pointedly at Hannah, whose cheeks reddened.
Amy gasped. ‘You said Phyllie should be locked up?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘Of course I didn’t. I suggested we look into some assisted living centres, that’s all. There are some amazing places around, and if Phyllie was in one of those she’d have help available twenty-four hours a day. They’re also very social places, with lots of people her age to chat with.’
Phyllie rolled her eyes. ‘Social? Yes, if you enjoy eating little sandwiches three times a week at all the funerals you attend. That’s why those places exist, don’t you realise that? It’s to put all the old people in one place, so it’s convenient to ship them off to the funeral home when their time’s up. They have a car on standby at all times for that very purpose. You know, like Uber, but for the dead.’
Nat snorted. ‘They do not. You made that up.’
‘How do you know? Have you ever been forced to spend time in one of those institutions?’
‘They’re hardly institutions,’ Hannah said. ‘It’s assisted living, that’s all. They have very nice grounds and plenty of activities. You can join in with meals or cook your own. It’s flexible, and people rave about them.’ Hannah’s phone rang again. She took it from her pocket and declined the call.
‘Why aren’t you answering your phone?’ Damien asked.
‘She’s been ignoring calls and messages ever since she picked me up,’ Amy piped up. ‘She’s acting really weird.’
Hannah’s cheeks flushed. ‘I’m not acting weird, it’s just work and I don’t want it interrupting our night.’
Nat looked from Hannah to Damien, noting his frown. Hannah ignoring her phone was weird. She usually put work before everything else, to the point that it irritated Nat. She imagined Damien was wondering the same.