Page 110 of Paper Roses

“At what point will you warm up the thumbscrews?”

“They’re baking at the moment,” my brother says cheerfully. “Got to get them at the burning point. I also want to let you know that I’ve sharpened the pliers, so your fingernails come out smoothly. No shoddy tools for the princess that you are.”

I laugh. It feels rusty and unused, but my mum smiles at me approvingly. She sets the tea down in front of me and takes her seat again.

She gives me an innocent smile that instantly makes me wary. “I popped by your house to see Artie yesterday.”

I choke on the sip I just took. “Really?” I say as my brother helpfully thumps me on the back. I shove him off. “Is there any need to hit me so hard I cough up a lung?”

He considers that. “Probably?”

“Enough,” my mum says, and we both subside. “It came as a bit of a surprise when I spoke to Carla.”

“Who?”

“Your neighbour.” She rolls her eyes. “You should really try and make friends more, Jed. You were always such an insular boy.”

“As opposed to me,” my brother says, winking at me. “Isn’t that true, Ma?”

“Well, I could never get a word out of Jed. I didn’t have that problem with you. The trouble was making it a sensible word.”

I raise my middle finger at him as he chuckles, but my mum returns doggedly to the subject.

“I know Carla. She’s in my chess club.”

“I didn’t know you played chess.”

“I’m learning. It helps to be strategic when I’m dealing with numpties like you and your brother.” I stare at her, and she raises an eyebrow. “Well? I’d love to know why your husband is in Germany, and I’ve only just heard about it?”

I lick my lips. “He took a job there.”

She raises her eyebrows. “And that’s it? That’s the best you could come up with? I could have done that myself and still had time to make a batch of biscuits.”

“I wish you had,” I mutter.

She reaches out and grabs the biscuit tin, pushing it towards me. “You’ve lost weight,” she says, her eyes warm with the ever-present love and concern she can’t hide.

I grab one of her homemade shortbreads but can’t face it, so I settle for crumbling it on my plate. They’re both watching me when I look up.

I groan. “Okay, but you have to swear that whatever I say here doesn’t leave this room. I’m serious.” I point at my brother. “You can’t even tell Mei.”

“Really?”

“I know you have chronically loose lips.” I take a deep breath. “I was never really married to Artie.”

“You had a ceremony,” my mum says, her face creased in confusion.

“Well, yes, we are actually married, but we did it because Artie’s stepmother left him his family home on the condition that he be married and live there for six months.” I stop talking and my mum just sips her tea. “Ma?”

She sets her mug down. “That Laura. What a cow she was.”

I gape at her. “Youknewher?”

She shrugs. “She was in my bridge club.”

“But you don’t play bridge.”

“I do now. Well, of a sort. My partner is Mr Hampson, and he’s terrible at overcalling and?—”

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