Loose Tea Lady continued

“I like your jacket Mrs Phillips – it’s a lovely blue and it really brings out the blue in your eyes.”
“Does it really, dear – well thank you.” Penny had bought the large-buttoned jacket that week in a new boutique in the village outside Lincoln – it was quite fitted but still made her feel shapely. John, as usual, had been no help when she got it home, though – ‘Yes, it’s nice,’ was the best he’d offered as he pored again over the accounts of the Lincoln Conservative Association. As a retired bank manager, he felt it was his duty to the association he’d been an ordinary member of for forty-two years.
“Are your earrings topaz?”
“Yes, dear – how did you know that?”
“Oh, I just do – so what did you do this afternoon?”
“Well…we had tea at the Lyons tea-house – well you have to, don’t you.”
“So what did you have? Earl grey? A Lapsang?”
“err… I just had tea.”
“Oh, I saw you as loose leaf woman.”
“A what?”
“Well someone who likes loose leaf tea?”
“No…too much chewing.”
“Oh.” Lucy didn’t really care about the suit and the earrings but decided that any praise would be more that she would used to – well if John and Paul were anything to go by.

The conversation between the twenty-two year old Lucy wearing her favourite long green heavy cotton skirt with the designer patch at mid thigh and sleeveless (because she liked her long thin pale arms) white silk top, and the sixty-six year-old mother of Paul, continued as Penny began to slowly change her impression of the girl with the ring in her nose.

“So Dad, how is the hotel?” Paul knew he was safe asking his father because now his mother was otherwise engaged, he knew he’d get a reasoned answer.
“Very good, son. Your recommendation was a good one.” Looking sideways as if to ensure that Penny wasn’t listening to what he was about to say. “I didn’t realise that Smithfield would have such a lovely hotel – what’s it called, Malmaison? Why would someone call a hotel ‘bad house’?”
“Who knows, dad. So how are things? – we haven’t spoken for ages, you know.”
“Well, you know what your mother is like,” he looked sideways again, “it’s hard.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s your mother,” his voice lowered to a whisper, “She’s never happy - I thought that retirement would bring us closer together. But she’s always out – she just doesn’t seem to want to be with me.”
“Wasn’t she always out when you were working?”
“I don’t know, to be honest – I never knew what she did. Retirement is harder than I thought, you know, I have to try really hard to keep busy.”
“I’m sure thing will get easier dad – the two of you just need time to adjust to the change.”

“So Lucy,” said Penny, warming to her son’s pretty girl, “what is Paul like to live with – does he wash often enough?”
“Penny!” exclaimed Lucy, apparently shocked by the question but guessing where it came from, “no man is as clean as you’d want them – it would be wrong… and sometimes, he can get just a little bit sweaty..”
“Lucy..” said Penny with her own furtive sideways look to her husband, “sweaty, yes that’s OK, but not dirty,” She giggled at the last word. Tempted as she was, Lucy didn’t respond in the way she might have.
“No, Mrs Phillips, Paul is clean enough for me.” Penny sipped again at her glass of wine – Paul had made a point of choosing it; somewhere in the Loire Valley that he and Lucy had been to. The truth was that it was a cheap one because Paul had found himself starting to add up what the meal was going to cost. Penny was, in fact, feeling a little tipsy; the two gin and tonics that John had insisted upon whilst they waited for the cab at the hotel, were having an effect – had he given her doubles?
“I wish John wasn’t so clean..” the words created an uncomfortable vacuum which Lucy couldn’t fill. Penny stared momentarily into her wine before gulping down a large mouthful.

Dinner was good. For her starter, Lucy chose, somewhat politically, to take the soup with Penny, Paul had the Thai Fishcakes and John picked at the Jumbo Shrimp, Bacon and Avocado on Gem, Rocket and Watercress Salad. He hadn’t really read the menu before the pretty Polish waitress came around, so he just picked something at random. Paul was slightly perturbed at the waitress’s habit of topping up everyone’s wine glass at the merest hint that they might have drunk some. The bottle would be finished at no time at this rate.

The main course showed a greater diversity in choice – Lucy the Moules Marinieres, Paul the Seared Salmon, John the Scotch Rib-eye (he’s decided to read the menu this time and had found his glasses in his inside pocket), and Penny, the Shepherds Pie with Honey