Page 28 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

‘English mustard?’ Camilla interrupted. ‘None of that Dijon business?’

Liz bit back a smile. The sandwiches and the questions were always the same. ‘Yes, English mustard and plenty of it.’

The twins had spent some of their formative years in India and consequently had acquired palates which demanded strong flavours. Pepper, garlic, chilli … Liz had learned that the only thing off the menu was bland, boring flavours.

She poured them both a cup of Earl Grey and pushed the bowl of sugar cubes towards Camilla, who promptly dropped three into hers.

‘That’s very kind, dear – isn’t she kind, Patrick?’ Camilla said.

‘Very,’ Patrick supplied.

‘I’m just doing my job,’ Liz replied with a laugh.

Agatha blinked spidery eyelashes at her. ‘I think of you as family now.’

Liz touched Agatha’s hand. The skin was soft and spotted with age. ‘I feel the same about you.’

Spending time with the Delmarges was the closest Liz came to family get-togethers. Or had been, until the girls had arrived yesterday.

‘Do you like Patrick’s shirt?’ Camilla asked.

‘Oh, Mother.’ Patrick shook his head in mock despair.

‘I do. It suits him.’ If Liz were to describe Patrick’s wardrobe, it would be ‘crumpled comfort’. His linen shirt, for example, looked like it might have been expensive. He wore it with the sleeves rolled up and untucked over a pair of trousers which looked as if they’d never given the ironing board a moment’s trouble.

‘We made him change before you came. He was wearing some awful peach thing,’ Agatha confided.

Camilla slurped her tea and nodded. ‘Washed him out. The French navy makes his eyes sparkle, don’t you think, Elizabeth?’

‘Very flattering,’ Liz agreed. Patrick did have lovely eyes, she’d noticed them the first time they’d met. A deep inky blue, the colour of a summer night sky.

‘Have a sandwich, Mum, and stop embarrassing me,’ said Patrick.

‘I’m just showing you off, darling. Mother’s prerogative.’ Camilla selected three tiny triangles and bit into a crab one.

Agatha added a splash of milk to her cup. ‘I’m surprised you’re not married, Elizabeth dear, really I am.’

Liz said nothing, she slid the cake stand towards her and handed her a plate and napkin. Once everyone had been served, she could retreat to the kitchen and then the two ladies would leave poor Patrick in peace. He was a widower and seemingly happy to stay that way, but that didn’t stop the twins trying to match-make.

‘Don’t pry, Aggie, it’s not polite. Elizabeth doesn’t have to tell us anything about her private life unless she wants to?’ Camilla raised an eyebrow hopefully.

‘Mum,’ Patrick warned. ‘Liz, I apologise for my nosy relatives. They’re incorrigible.’

‘Spoilsport.’ Agatha pouted, making her coral lips pucker. ‘This is what counts for excitement when you get to Camilla’s age: living vicariously through others.’

Agatha was fond of reminding her sister that she was the eldest. Although the age difference was the few minutes, it had taken the neighbour to realise their mother wasn’t carrying one but two babies and to resume her position at the business end. A story which Liz had heard several times, each retelling more gruesome than the last.

‘Rude, but sadly true,’ Camilla admitted. ‘Eddie Sprigg had a new mobility scooter delivered last week. The furore created by that, honestly, you’d have thought it was a Rolls-Royce.’

‘It beeps when it goes backwards,’ Agatha whispered, clearly impressed. ‘Quite a machine, I can tell you.’

‘Oh shush, Aggie’ said Camilla crossly. ‘You’re changing the subject. Elizabeth was telling us about her private life.’

‘No she was not,’ Patrick corrected her.

‘I should be getting the coffee and cakes ready,’ said Liz. ‘I’ll be right back.’

‘Sit down, dear, you’re giving me a crick in my neck, looking up at you.’ Agatha patted the empty chair.