White Wedding Read Online Free PDF Page B

the escort of an exorcist.
    ‘I didn’t find one, no,’ sighed Violet. ‘I’m still on the lookout.’
    ‘I saw an angel last night. Lovely red hair she had,’ said Nan. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Violet. It was only in a dream. I don’t mean she was in the room with
me. She was humming.’
    Violet laughed with relief that this wasn’t one of her ‘episodes’.
    ‘What was she humming, Nan?’
    ‘The theme tune to Coronation Street .’
    Violet chuckled. ‘Fancy a cuppa? I’m gagging for some tea.’
    ‘Not for me. I want one of those little lagers in the fridge. Ask your mum if she wants a drink, will you, love? She could do with a sit-down. She’s been washing bedding all morning.
She never stops.’
    Violet went into the kitchen and as the kettle boiled she watched her mum through the window unpegging sheets from the line. She changed the beds every weekend, she always had. Violet used to
love her ‘clean sheet night’ every Saturday: white cotton in summer, flannelette in winter. Violet knocked on the glass and did a drinking mime at her mum. Her mother stuck a thumb up
before dipping into the peg basket again. Violet brewed the tea and got out the cups. Her mum and Nan always drank out of delicate bone china. Nan’s cup had a big black cat on it,
Susan’s featured butterflies.
    ‘Fetch the Jaffa Cakes in as well, will you, love?’ called Nan. ‘Apparently I’ve to have more fruit in my diet. I’m counting those as a couple of my
five-a-days.’
    Violet smiled and went to the cupboard where the biscuit tin was kept. Her phone went off in her pocket just as she was tipping the Jaffa Cakes on to a plate. Glyn. Violet felt herself
stiffening at the sight of his name on the screen. She knew exactly why he was ringing. Where are you? How long will you be? She was tempted to press ‘ignore’ but knew he
wouldn’t let up if she did that.
    ‘Hi,’ she said, lifting the phone to her ear.
    ‘Hi, hon, where are you?’
    ‘I called in to see Mum and Nan before I meet the painter.’
    ‘How long will you be?’
    ‘Three-quarters of an hour, maybe.’
    ‘Don’t be too long, will you?’
    ‘No, I won’t be,’ said Violet, grappling with the annoyance that she felt.
    ‘Can you pick up a bottle of white non-alcoholic wine for lunch tomorrow? That one Dad really likes. I think it’s an Eisberg Riesling.’
    Violet winced. She had forgotten she was going to the Leachs Senior tomorrow.
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘I’m making a meat and potato pie.’
    ‘Okay,’ replied Violet.
    ‘Do you want peas or beans with it? I don’t mind, I’ll have whichever one you decide.’
    Violet rolled her eyes. If she told Glyn she wanted to eat her pie with Italian smoked oysters, he would get them for her. So many women would envy her his concern for her needs.
    ‘I don’t know, I’ll decide later.’
    ‘Okay. See you soon, then. Love you.’
    ‘See you soon.’ She pressed the call end button and shoved the phone back in her pocket. She turned round to find Nan in the kitchen doorway.
    ‘So, how long to the wedding now?’
    ‘About two and a half months.’
    ‘About?’ replied Nan. ‘When I was getting married to your grandfather and anyone asked me that question, I knew the time down to the exact minute.’
    Violet opened her mouth to speak, but she feared that if she did she might never shut it again.
    ‘You all right, my little Violet?’ asked Nan. As her sharp grey eyes locked on to her granddaughter’s, Violet felt as if Nan could see right through to the workings of her
brain and make sense of them – which she couldn’t.
    ‘Course I am,’ said Violet, pinning on a smile. ‘What makes you ask?’
    ‘Oh nothing,’ said Nan after a pause. ‘I just sometimes feel that you’re not as happy inside as you try to pretend you are on the outside.’ She opened the fridge
and took out a tiny bottle of Belgian lager and then went to the drawer for the bottle opener. It took Violet