Page 23 of A Wish For Wilma
Could she do it?Shouldshe do it? Wilma picked at a gnarly cuticle. She hadn’t treated herself to a manicure in ages. Primping and preening wasn’t a priority when your life was spent soldiering through the day, praying it wasn’t your last. Death lurked around the corner, unwilling to reveal when it would seize you. But now…
‘I wondered if you’d fancy a weekend away, Wilma.’
Towards the end of their evening together, Gus had casually tossed in the invitation. Wilma had nearly choked on her last mouthful of pudding. A bit charred on top, but still impressive.
‘I’ve always fancied visiting Plockton. The TV showHamish Macbethwas filmed there. Not sure if you’re familiar with it,’ said Gus.
Wilma vaguely recalled a police show featuring a Scottish actor who’d gone on to be a Bond villain. The place's name rang a bell, too. ‘Did they not make that scare-your-knickers off filmThe Wicker Manthere, too?’ Wilma had watched it in the seventies, hiding behind Eric when it came to the dramatic climax.
Gus had laughed and praised Wilma’s ‘quaint turn of phrase’. He’d left the ball in her court when he dropped her home. ‘Presumptuous, but I’ve already booked us in. Two rooms, of course, but I can change it, no problem. Let me know.’
From handyman to hero. In a short space of time, Gus had turned Wilma’s world upside down. As had someone else, but he was in good hands. There just remained the small matter of telling Jinnie and Sam that she’d be heading for the Highlands in a couple of days, and probably doing a jig en route. She doubted Jinnie would do the same.
* * *
‘We weren’t expecting you, Mum.’Rob ushered Wilma in.
‘Can a wumman not pay a surprise visit to her favourite son?’ scolded Wilma.
‘I’m your only son,’ retorted Rob, helping Wilma with her coat.
‘Well, even if I had five, you’d still be my favourite.’
Rob steered Wilma into the living room. Archie lay prone on the sofa, sock-clad feet dangling over the arm.
‘Wotcha, Gran,’ he mumbled, eyes glued to his phone. ‘My oven’s on the blink, so I came round for a bite to eat.’
Kath appeared, shooting an irate glare at her son. ‘Because it would never occur to you to call someone in to fix it, or just order food in. It’s not like you’re strapped for cash these days, Archie.’
Archie yawned, stretched, and winked at Wilma. ‘Well, I miss my lovely mum’s home cooking. I only use the oven to heat up ready meals, anyway.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere. Now, go make your gran some tea — proper stuff, no bags — and leave us to catch up.’
Wilma made herself comfortable in her favourite chair. She scanned the room, noticing new curtains at the window. ‘You’ve been busy, Kath,’ she said. ‘Nice fabric. Did you run them up yourself?’
Kath laughed and shook her head. ‘It’s been ages since I used my sewing machine. No, I ordered them online and Rob hung them. It’s a great website, if you fancy a change at your place.’
I’ve quite enough changes going on at my place,mused Wilma.And I’m not here to talk about curtains.
‘Here you go, Gran.’ Archie plonked a mug of tea in front of her. Wilma thanked him as he sauntered off, vowing she’d have one sip. It resembled liquid tar, with a scant amount of milk lightening it.
‘How’s Gus?’ enquired Rob. ‘Maybe, if he’s not too busy, he could have a look at Archie’s oven. Mind you, it’s virtually brand new. The eejit probably pushed the wrong button or something.’
‘I heard that!’ Archie hollered from the hallway. ‘Calling your mega-successful musical-genius son an “eejit” cuts me to the core.’
‘Sorry, son.’ Rob gave a ‘sorry, not sorry,’ shrug. ‘Love the lad to bits, but he’s given me more than my fair share of grey hairs.’
Wilma sipped her tea. It was every bit as revolting as it looked. She took a deep breath — easier now she’d quit the smokes and vapes.
‘Gus is good. In fact, Gus is magnificent. He’s taking me away on a mini break to Plockton. I’ve no’ been this excited since I saw Tom Jones live in the seventies.’
Rob and Kath stared at Wilma as if at a dangerous animal. Nervously, and looking prepared to drop a net over her head at any sudden moves.
‘You’re goingawaywith him?’ Rob spoke first.
‘Aye, that I am.’
‘But Mum, you’re in your eighties and vulnerable… I know he seems a decent man, but…’
