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Getting Dirty

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My dress is an elegant sleeveless black number, down to the knee, nothing indecent about it. She’s just getting at me. But fighting with my stepmother never did me any favours. Normally I can ignore her, but not tonight. This meeting has me on edge and I want it over.

‘But we’re not here to discuss my attire, are we? We’re here for Granny. So why don’t we get that out of the way and then we can all get back to our lives?’

‘Goodness, you make it sound like it’s such an inconvenience, having to talk about your grandmother.’ My stepmother looks to Philip. ‘Doesn’t she, darling?’

‘Yes.’ His eyes narrow on me. ‘Have you someplace else you need to be, Coco?’

I feel my cheeks colour. I know they’re baiting me, and I shouldn’t rise to it, but it’s so hard. Especially having endured them for over an hour already, with their mundane sniping at people about whom they have the pleasure of gossiping.

‘It seems you’re rarely at home these days,’ he continues. ‘And I’ve heard some interesting tales on the grapevine as to what has you so occupied.’

Is he serious? Could he know about Ash? Or is this just another gibe? A continuation of his questioning over my whereabouts in front of Granny?

Both his mother and Clara look from him to me, smiles that send my blood cold playing on their lips. I try to ignore them.

‘I’ve been home enough to spend time with Granny—that’s all that matters.’

‘You’ve been just as doting as ever.’ He nods, overly sincere. ‘As have I, for that matter. But it isn’t enough—hence this meeting.’

My sudden panic about Ash morphs into a greater fear now. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t think her living at the London residence any longer is a good idea.’

‘But it’s her favoured home. It’s close to her oncologist, her friends, the h—’

He waves his hand to cut me off. ‘You misunderstand me. I think we need to convince her that a hospital—a specialist hospice unit—would be a better place...more comfortable—’

‘Is this your doing?’ I blurt at my stepmother, my stomach churning over. There’s no way my brother would have come to this conclusion alone. He’s not that heartless.

‘Calm down, Coco,’ my brother orders. ‘It benefits us all to know that Granny is taken care of properly 24/7. She can’t even tackle the stairs on her own any more.’

‘So? We’ll convert a room downstairs for her—one that gives her access to the garden and the—’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, dear. Which room are you suggesting? The drawing room? The garden room? The library?’ My stepmother shakes her head, her perfectly coiffed hair unmoving. ‘All that medical equipment will ruin the house; you’d need handrails put in, and there’s no bathroom downstairs for her to use. And all for the sake of—what? A month? Maybe two?’

I don’t want to listen to her. I don’t want to listen to any of them.

‘But she wants to be at home—she’s asked to stay at home.’

‘Yes, but our summer soirée is next month and how can we possibly consider holding that with your grandmother under the same roof...or not, as the case maybe.’ She sips at her wine, calm as you like, and looks pointedly at Philip.

I stare at her in disbelief. She can’t be serious. She wants to put the location of the Lauren annual bash above... No, it cannot be. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘Of course, we can’t exactly hold it somewhere else, we always have it in London,’ Clara chips in. ‘It’s convenient to all. Not to mention it’s a family tradition.’

‘And we know how your grandmother is about tradition,’ my stepmother adds.

‘Christ, have some bloody compassion,’ I snap.

She doesn’t even smart. ‘Compassion only makes one weak, and we know how she feels about that too.’

Philip doesn’t say a word, only eyes his glass as he rolls the stem of it in his fingers.

‘Philip, seriously, you know this isn’t right?’

‘Philip will do what is best for him and his soon-to-be title, he will be the Duke of Rushford and, as such, he needs to start taking the lead at these functions. The soirée is the perfect beginning.’

‘But...but she’s not even dead yet.’



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