Page 64 of The Battle of the Bookshops
“Wow,” mumbled Jules with her mouth full, moments later. The macaroni cheese was absolutely delicious, of course; there were pasta spirals rather than proper macaroni, coated with smooth, rich bechamel sauce rendered yellow with mustard and cheese, studded with lardons, and gooey with chunks of mozzarella. Each of the women had generous portions of the bronzed cheddar topping too, gleaming with oil and intensely salty.
Aunt Flo always made amazing macaroni cheese.
Jules had to concentrate on not wolfing the lot down in under a minute. When she had finished, she sat dreamily staring into the fire, stroking Merlin and sipping her wine. It was full, heady, and rich, with berry flavors bursting against the roof of her mouth and warming her from within.
This intoxicating combination of elation and contentment was compelling. Jules could get used to it, she decided.
Turning her head, she noticed Flo sitting and watching her quietly.
“I’m so glad you’re happy, darling,” she said softly. “I can’t tellyou how it warms my soul... you deserve this, my love. You and Roman together. You are going to havesucha wonderful life together. I just know it.”
“Whoa, steady.” Jules smiled. “Early days...” But Aunt Flo was right. She was incapable of wiping the grin off her face. And then the mood music darkened. It was all very well that she and Roman were happy, but what about poor Aunt Flo. What was going to become of her by Christmas? “I just worry about you and Mum together,” fretted Jules.
“Ah! Well... I was just looking today, as it happens,” said Flo, determinedly upbeat. “There is a dear little two-bed flat available for rent on the Whitchurch Estate. So convenient for the shops, and not that far from the beach, really. I mean, there’s always the bus.”
“Oof, the Whitchurch Estate? Isn’t that a bit rough?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Flo brightly. “I think these things can be overstated. I’ve always met lovely people everywhere I’ve gone.”
“That’s becauseyou’relovely.”
Flo reached for some estate agent details on the coffee table. “Here,” she said, handing them to Jules.
It was a low-rise block, previously rendered white but now gray with streaks of green and brown. The photographer hadn’t taken the care to remove the shopping trolley and stained mattress. Jules flicked through the euphemistic copy, concentrating on the floor plan and internal photos. The general impression was of peeling wallpaper and curtains hanging limply from broken rails.
“It looks awful,” said Jules grimly.
“Decent room sizes, though,” said Flo.
“If you say so.”
“And it could do with a lick of paint, I’ll admit,” said Flo. “Perhaps we could all pitch in. I could get in some beer, make a pot of chili. We could have a painting party.”
“Is it really the best that can be done?”
“It’s affordable,” said Flo firmly. “No point beating about the bush. My little pension will cover it with enough money to live on left over if I’m careful. That’s the key thing.”
“It shouldn’t be the key thing,” said Jules mulishly. Her darling aunt Flo shouldn’t have to be contemplating such a move at her age, after a lifetime of working so hard and looking after everyone. “I can help,” Jules added. God knows how, but she damned well would.
“Ab-solutely not,” said Flo firmly. “I have never been beholden to anyone, and I’m not going to start now.”
“But I thought you’d agreed to the moving in with Mum thing,” said Jules. “At least then you’d be in Middlemass, which is lovely. And you’d have people like Diana and Mungo as your neighbors, rather than all the local drug dealers.”
“Now you’re being dramatic, darling,” said Flo. “We have to be realistic. You know your mother and I would kill each other. I’ll be fine.”
If only Aunt Flo wasn’t on her own in life, thought Jules, stifling tears. The last thing she wanted was for Flo to see that. She had to be strong.
“Why do you think you never found your own Roman?” she asked.
Flo snorted. “Who’s to say I didn’t?” she retorted. “I was young and beautiful once too, you know.”
“Of course, you were,” said Jules quickly. “And you’re beautiful now, come to that. At least,” she added cheekily, “your lovely Graham seems to think so.”
“Ah, Graham. Such a sweet man, but no, bless him, I wouldn’t call him the love of my life.”
“And who was?”
“Wouldn’tyoulike to know, madam,” said Flo, smiling delightedly. “Ah, it’s a joy to think back—goodness we’re talking many, many years ago now...”
