'I thought you might say that,' she said, sitting down on the bed beside him.
'We had an agreement! Big ticket items have to be discussed. That was our agreement and you've not done it yet. Not even once. You've just gone ahead and bought major thing after major thing without even mentioning it.'
'But you'd just have said no every time!' Annie exclaimed in frustration.
Ed gave a sigh of exasperation and looked away from her again. 'Right, do you need me to explain what a discussion is, then?'
'I'm used to having my own way,' she told him.
'Oh, great argument.'
'I don't want to go without you,' she said and moved closer to him on the bed. She dared to lower her head gently onto his shoulder, wheedling, 'My head's still sore. I need you to look after me.' Maybe appealing to his sympathy would be a wise move. 'I thought a little holiday would be really, really good for us all. We didn't get away all summer . . . we've been so busy doing up the house . . .'
When she felt Ed's arm move from his guitar to slide around her waist, she knew she was doing something right.
'Where is this villa?' he asked.
'Oh it looks gorgeous,' she began, 'it's in the countryside, but not far from the sea. About two hours' drive from the airport. I've hired a big car . . . very cheap. Total . . .'
'Bargain,' Ed couldn't help smiling. 'Which airport?'
'Ancona,' she told him, lying down across the bed and rubbing the small of his back, determined to win him over by all means at her disposal.
'Ancona?' Ed sounded surprised.
'Do you know it?' Annie asked.
'Erm, yes! You might remember me telling you about my Italian . . .'
'Girlfriend!' Annie broke in, remembering almost every word Ed had told her about this woman. No one can help wanting to know every little crease and crinkle of The One who came before them.
'Yeah, she's from Ancona.'
'Oh! Right. I didn't know that. Is that bad?' she wondered.
'No. It's nice . . . and I suppose you had no idea either that Ancona and the towns round about are the shoe and handbag capital of Italy?' Ed lay back on the bed beside her, seeming almost quite willing to make up with her now.
'That's where almost all of Italy's leather goods are made,' he added. 'Am I really supposed to believe that you didn't have the slightest idea about that either?'
'I didn't!' she said, truthfully, 'I honestly didn't know anything about that!' Now she was struggling to keep the excitement out of her voice.
The shoe and handbag
capital of Italy?!
'So, will you come with us, babes?'
'Yes . . . OK,' he agreed. 'I give in once again . . .'
'That's what I like about you,' Annie told him, kissing his cheek.
'Yeah, you've twisted my arm,' Ed said, 'but now you have to go upstairs and work on Lana. She will not be so easy to persuade.'
'Maybe if I tell her about the shoes and handbags . . .'
'Yeah, good luck with that.'
Fern's going away outfit:
Pink and blue print summer dress (Monsoon)
Beige sandals, extra wide (Van Dal)
White clip-on earrings (Vintage eighties, back of
jewellery box)
Practical white handbag (John Lewis)
Total est. cost: £160
'Oh no!'
By nine the next morning, the entire household was in a state of pandemonium. Now it was Owen's turn to sulk because Annie and Ed had agreed that he couldn't take his violin to Italy.
'There's a pool!' Annie was shouting at him in exasperation. 'It's going to be sunny! You'll be outside, swimming and having a lovely time.'
'You know we should be grateful that he's so keen to practise,' Ed reminded her. 'Some of the other kids . . .'
'Stay out of this,' Annie warned him.
Meanwhile Lana, who had finally been persuaded with the promise of a new handbag, shoes and boots – Annie had secretly been impressed with her daughter's uncompromising negotiating tactics – was weeping down her mobile. 'I'm going away! I won't be able to see you! No, not until Monday night at the earliest . . . I know, it's just terrible.'
Annie's large suitcase was packed, but now she was bossily interfering with Ed's packing.
'Don't you own anything ironed?' she snapped, 'or anything that's white and not grey? Where are those nice shirts I bought you at the start of the summer?'
Everyone was acutely aware that the taxi would arrive in about twenty minutes. Still, it was something of a shock when the doorbell rang.
'Oh God! It's early!' Annie cried. 'Come on! Bring your bags down. I've got the passports and the tickets.'
As Ed, Owen and Lana bumped and banged bags down the wooden stairs towards the hallway, Annie opened the door for the taxi driver.
To her astonishment, there on the top step looking fresh and smelling fragrant, in a brand new flowery dress, was Fern, Annie's mother.
'Good morning, dearie! How are you doing?' Fern asked raising her arms for a hug and a kiss. She stopped in her tracks, 'Oh my God, your head! You said you'd had a bit of an accident but I had no idea . . . oh darling, I'm sorry, I've not phoned you for days, I've been rushed off my feet.'
'Mum!' Annie exclaimed as she was pulled towards a soft, carefully made-up cheek and enveloped in a cloud of Givenchy.
'Hilda's in the car, dear,' Fern went on. 'We left really early to miss the worst of the traffic. But I thought I'd get Ed to help me with the wheelchair, it's a bit of a struggle getting it out by myself.'
'Hilda?' Annie asked, wondering why on earth her mother could have thought to bring hideous old Aunty Hilda with her for a visit so early on a Thursday morning.
Just then Lana came to the front door and looked round from behind her mother, suitcase in one hand, mobile phone in the other.
'Hi, Gran!' she exclaimed cheerfully. 'What are you doing here?' Turning to her mother, she added, 'Dinah's just phoned, Bryan can't come to Italy with us, he's not going to be able to get away from work. Hey, why don't you come, Gran?'
Just as Fern was beginning to grasp the meaning of Lana's words, Annie was coming to the vaguest recollection of a hurried conversation with her mum, something about Fern going away and Hilda needing care and Annie volunteering and . . . could she seriously have agreed to look after Aunty Hilda
this
weekend? Founder's weekend?
Annie looked over at her great-aunt again. The old bat was so infuriatingly opinionated that it wasn't possible to bite into a sandwich without her letting you know what she thought about your bite, your bread and your choice of sandwich filling. Someone else would have to have her.
'But I'm leaving for France in three hours!' Fern exclaimed with horror. 'You can't be going away! You're the ones who are supposed to be looking after Aunty.'
'But I'd completely forgotten!' Annie tried to defend herself. 'I got mugged and whacked on the head and since then, I've not thought about it at all. You should have reminded me!'
'Oh my God!' Fern's voice was growing more and more high-pitched. 'Why didn't I phone you yesterday to check? I meant to. I even tried, but the line was engaged and then I was busy packing . . .'
'What's the matter, Annie?' Ed called down the stairs.
'Oh! Hello Fern,' he greeted Annie's mother in astonishment. 'You've picked the wrong moment for a surprise visit.'
He jogged down the stairs and was brought up to speed astonishingly quickly by both extremely agitated women.
'And Bryan's not coming,' Lana announced to them all once again.
Although Ed's first reaction to the Italian long weekend had been fury and a flat refusal to accompany them, in the hours since then he'd decided it was too late to complain about the money, because it was already spent, so he might as well look forward to the trip. Now, the idea of swimming in the pool, basking in the sun, eating some fantastic Italian food and drinking a little too much Chianti was all highly appealing.
The fact that an elderly aunty he'd only met once before was about to jeopardize it all was not exactly great news.
'Where else could she go?' Ed asked, trying not to make it sound too brutal.
'I don't have any time to find anyone else!' Fern exclaimed, her cheeks growing pink with stress. 'I'm supposed to be catching my bus in three hours.'
'Where does she live?'
'In a nice little village not far from Bishop's Stortford.'
Ed's face seemed to light up. 'Isn't Bishop's Stortford right beside Stansted?' he asked.
Annie saw Ed's look and, all at once, caught the meaning of his question. 'Oh no. No, no you don't,' she warned.
'Is she fit to travel?' Ed directed this question at Fern.
'Who?'
'Aunty H.'
'Hilda? Well, she has her wheelchair, she can walk a little more these days, she's coming along . . . Oh no!' Fern added, also catching Ed's meaning, 'You can't take her to Italy!'
'Why don't I go over there and have a little chat with her? She must be wondering what on earth's going on up here,' Ed said and before anyone could stop him, he bounded down the steps towards Fern's sleek green Jag, parked right in front of the house.
Annie could see Aunty Hilda sitting primly in the front seat, looking just as disapproving as ever. Oh, she was going to love this, wasn't she? She was never going to let Annie forget about this mix-up.
Fern, Annie and Lana waited anxiously on the threshold of the house as Ed crouched down at the car door, which he'd partly opened in order to chat to the old battleaxe.
'He's really a very nice man,' Fern couldn't help commenting, 'I don't know what he's doing with you,' she added huffily. Annie knew then how much she'd annoyed her mother; this wasn't the sort of comment she'd usually make.
'He clearly has a way with older women,' Annie snapped back.
'Does Ed seriously think Aunty Hilda should come to Italy with us?' Lana was asking in a tone of disbelief. 'That old bat?'
'Lana!' her mother warned her.
But Owen was now behind them, sitting on the stairs lacing up his trainers and declaring, 'WHAT? Aunty Hilda!'
'I see you're bringing them up to respect their elders,' Fern snipped.
'Oh yes,' Annie shot back. 'It's
so
important.'
It was with no small amount of horror that Annie watched Ed stand up and head towards the boot of the car.
'He's getting out the wheelchair,' she said faintly. 'He's persuaded her to come with us.'
'Well, thank goodness for that – even though it's absolute madness,' was Fern's reaction. 'At least if she dies when you're in charge, it won't be my fault.'
'Dies?' Annie spluttered. 'Look at her! She's going to outlive all of us. Owen included.'
As Ed carefully unloaded Aunty Hilda from the passenger's seat and into the wheelchair, the long-awaited taxi arrived.