Page 88 of Between Us

‘Oh NO! Rosie! That’s rank madness! You look like one of the teenagers who drink scrumpy by the post office.’

Matt barked with laughter and Roisin flicked the Vs at him.

‘Youmustwear a dress!’

‘This is a dress,’ Roisin said, motioning towards her cord pinafore.

‘It’s like a school uniform dress.It’s a sturdy bag. Borrow one of mine,’ Lorraine said.

‘Ugh, no! It’s a charity fete, notStrictly Come Dancing,’ Roisin said, the sort of idle parent-baiting that qualified as a leisure activity.

‘Charming,’ Lorraine said, as if she’d not criticised Roisin’s clothing.

Since being home, Roisin had unintentionally sartorially reverted to her early twenties: stretchy dark cotton dresseswith spaghetti straps, sturdy lace-up boots, flannel shirts thrown over the top. Hair up, in a bundle. Grungey, in essence. She was still wearing plenty of make-up, so she didn’t think her mother had much to complain about.

Lorraine’s strenuous efforts to maintain her glamour and beauty were to be admired, yet Roisin wondered if her mother would ever allow herself to be old, one day. If she even wanted to. Whether there was an off ramp, in the business of being pleasing to the male gaze.

For her fortieth birthday, Lorraine wore a bottle-green fishtail velvet gown with raspberry tulle trim, exploding in a waterfall at mid-calf height, which was so tight she had to be fastened into it with a glue gun. She’d sang The Supremes’ ‘Baby Love’ down a microphone to Roisin’s father in a packed room at The Stanneylands in Wilmslow. Her parents still had status, the good sort, at the time. Teenage Roisin had been two parts mortification to one part awe.

‘I’ll be changing, to be clear,’ Matt said, by the door in a t-shirt and shorts, off for his morning run round the village. Webberley was not blessed with a gym.

‘You’ll lookfine,’ Lorraine said.

‘Oh, indeed. Male privilege,’ Roisin said.

After Matt had left, Lorraine said, ‘Spoke to your brother last night.’

‘Ah, right.’ There was an evidentandto this statement that Roisin ignored.

‘I told him you and Matt were helping me out.’

‘OK.’

‘Ryan said to be … cautious. He’s worried in case Mattgets his feet under the table and suggests taking over a portion of the pub. I told him not to worry, but …’

‘What do you mean? Take over how?’

‘As in, suggests co-ownership with me. Legally.’

‘What?!’ Roisin said, outraged. Old furies came rushing in, like opening a submerged car window under water. ‘Are you on drugs? Matt’s doing you a huge favour by working for peanuts – he’s not after anything!’

‘Calm down! You know Ryan – he’s a long way away, and he’s being overcautious.’

‘He’s a selfish shit, worrying about his inheritance and wrapping it up in concern for you, more like.’

‘You always leap to the worst possible conclusion.’

‘Sorry, what is the good conclusion in, “Perhaps Roisin’s friend is conniving to defraud you”?’

‘He was merely asking whether Matt had longer-term intentions regarding The Mall!’

‘Why on earth would anyone see this bang average place and think “hoh, a goldmine”? It’s been a millstone round your neck for years.’ Roisin was being insulting and didn’t care.

‘Yes, but Ryan doesn’t know Matt and doesn’t know how nice he is. He heard a man was sorting everything out and he wanted to be sure I kept control of the pub. He was protecting my interests. That was all.’

‘You always do this. Whatever Ryan does, you turn it into virtue. If Ryan had genuine concerns about Matt, why not bring them to me? You know, the person who knows Matt and vouched for him?’

‘I’m sure he would if you ever called him, Roisin! You don’t exactly make yourself available to your family.’

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