Page 15 of Daydreams at the Farm on Muddypuddle Lane
Maisie’s mobile was on speaker phone, sitting on the old oak dressing table. She was peering into the age-spotted oval mirror above it and wishing her lashes were longer. It wasn’t fair that a man had longer lashes than her. She was referring to Adam: his were thick and dark, a look Maisie’s lashes only achieved with the application of two coats of mascara and a lot of wishful thinking.
‘Work? What do you meanwork?’
Maisie pulled a face at the phone, thankful that this wasn’t a video call. ‘The restaurant. I’m working there.’ It was Wednesday evening and her third shift this week was about to begin.
‘Otto’srestaurant? ‘
‘Yes, Mum, Otto’s restaurant.’
‘Oh, a mercy job! That’s kind of him. But you’re not being fair to him, are you?’
Maisie ground her teeth together. ‘It’s not a mercy job. And what do you mean, ‘I’m not being fair to him’?’
‘You’re taking advantage.’
‘I am not!’
‘What else do you call it? I doubt whether he had a vacancy just as you rocked up. He feels sorry for you.’
‘It was Dulcie’s idea,’ Maisie retorted, then realised she had probably made things worse.
‘Your sister isn’t doing you any favours. Enabling, that’s what it’s called. She’s enabling you to run away from your problems.’
Maisie’s hand jerked and she narrowly missed poking herself in the eye with the mascara wand. ‘Bugger!’
‘Just because you know I’m right, there’s no need to swear at me.’
‘I wasn’t swearing at you. I was— Never mind.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t have any problems.’ Apart from you, she thought. ‘My life is just fine, thanks. Actually, it’s notjust fine, it’s pretty good.’
‘You can’t sponge off your sister forever.’
Oh, good grief! ‘I’m not sponging. For your information, I’m pulling my weight.’
‘Hmm.’ There was a brief pause, then Beth changed tack. ‘Have you considered Dulcie and Otto in all this? Have you thought about them at all? They’ve got enough on their plates without babysitting you.’
Maisie slapped the tube of mascara down so hard that it rattled the mirror. ‘I donotneed babysitting. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.’
Yet another change of tack. ‘And they certainly don’t need you hanging around like a spinster at a party.’
‘What?’ Maisie rolled her eyes. Her mother came out with some odd sayings on times.
Beth carried on, ‘They need time alone together, to be a couple. You’re bound to be cramping their style. They can’t be doing with entertaining you all the time.’
‘They don’t have to. I can find my own entertainment.’
‘What’s his name?’ It was said with a sigh, and Maisie easily imagined the eyeroll that went with it.
‘Adam,’ she snapped, without thinking.
Beth let out a snort. ‘I might have known there would be a man involved. What does he do?’
‘Why the interest?’ Her mum had stopped enquiring about Maisie’s boyfriends along time ago. She decided to leave it there. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go, Mum. My shift starts in half an hour.’
Her mother made one final effort. ‘I’m only asking because I care about you and...’ She sniffed loudly. ‘I miss you. The house is too quiet.’
Maisie relented. She had assumed Mum would appreciate a bit of me-time, and she had also thought that her mum would have been glad not to have to tidy up after her.
Shame stole over her. Since coming to stay with Dulcie, Maisie had made a real effort to behave responsibly: why couldn’t she do that at home? In a flash of clarity, she understood the reason Dulcie and Nikki were often so exasperated with her. When she returned to Birmingham, shevowed to be more responsible. If she could do it here, she could do it there.
