“Honestly, Mummy, I was out with Raymond”—there was a snort —“visiting this nice old man in hospital.
He fell in the street and we helped him and—” “SHUT YOUR LYING LITTLE CAKE HOLE!
I flinched, dropped the book, picked it up again.You know what happens to liars, don’t you, Eleanor? You remember?
Her voice was back to sickly sweet.I don’t mind how bad the truth is, but I won’t tolerate lies, Eleanor.
You of all people should know that, even after all this time.
Mummy, I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Raymond and I went to hospital to visit a man we’d helped when he had an accident.
It’s true, I swear it!” “Really?” she drawled. “Well, that’s just delightful, isn’t it?
You can’t be bothered to talk to your own mother,
and yet you spend your Wednesday evenings visiting some geriatric, accident-prone stranger? Charming.”
Please, Mummy, let’s not fight. How are you? Have you had a good day?
I don’t want to talk about me, Eleanor. I already know all about me. I want to talk about you. How is your project coming along? Any news for Mummy?
I might have known she’d remember. How much should I tell her? Everything, I supposed.
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