Kate Lawson - Keeping Mum

‘There’s been a lot of interest in them.’

‘I’d imagine there has been. What’s your best price?’

Cass considered for a few moments. ‘Give me your best shot…’

‘You’re a hard woman, Cass.’

Cass broke into a broad grin. ‘So Rocco, how’s life treating you?’

He didn’t answer, instead making a lunge for the biscuit tin, which initially Cass mistook for an attempt at hugging.

‘Are those Fox’s Cream Crunch?’ he asked.

Cass whisked the tin away an instant before he could grab it. ‘Still not quite fast enough, eh? Never mind, maybe another time. What are you doing out here in the boondocks anyway?’

‘Come on, you’re a legend. Cass’s place—great gear, reasonable prices, you’ve always got such lovely things.’ He paused. ‘Actually I’m on the lookout for Christmas presents for your mother.’ He started patting himself down. ‘You want me to tell you how many shopping days we got left? The PalmPilot your mum bought me last year has got this feature—’

Cass shook her head. ‘No, it would so only depress me,’ she said. ‘I’m never organised.’

‘Maybe I could get your mum to buy you one—’ Rocco began.

‘No,’ snapped Cass more forcefully as Rocco continued, ‘I adore those repro radios and turntables you’ve got in the window. Nice chaise by the way,’ he tipped a nod towards the dark green brocade number she had recently finished re-upholstering, which was also currently sitting in the shop’s bay window. ‘That won’t be there very long.’

Cass smiled. ‘I’ve already had a couple of decent offers.’

Rocco grinned mischievously. ‘Really? And you’re still here selling tut—I’d have been long gone by now, if I were you.’

‘What and leave all this behind?’ she said, heavy on irony. ‘Besides one man’s old tut is another man’s design classic. Talking of which, how is my mother?’

He grinned. ‘Gorgeous as ever. Did you get the postcard from Madeira?’

Cass nodded. ‘Uh-huh, and Rome—and where else was it you went?’

‘I could email you the full itinerary if you like.’

Cass laughed, ‘What, when I’ve already had the postcards. Anyway, what is it you’re looking for?’

‘Peace on earth and goodwill to all men?’ Rocco suggested, as he thumbed through the pile of antique greetings cards she had arranged in a basket on the desk.

‘And besides that?’

‘I’m on the hunt for a couple of bedside cabinets, art deco, 1930s. Walnut veneer would be good. Your mother is such a slave driver…’

Not rising to the bait, Cass said, ‘I might be able to help.’

‘You’ve got bedside cabinets?’

‘Might have.’

Rocco’s eyes lit up.

Cass grinned. ‘You’d never make a poker player.’

‘What are they like?’

‘Nice actually, cylindrical, still got both shelves. You mind the shop, I’ll go and put the kettle on.’

‘Jacko not in today?’

‘No,’ said Cass. ‘He hates the cold. He keeps telling me he’s not getting any younger. He’s hanging on till I find someone else, but he can only do the odd hour here and there…. So if you know anyone wants a part-time job…’

Rocco held up his hands in surrender.

Cass laughed. ‘Not you—that wasn’t an offer.’

‘Thank god. Working for your mother is hard enough. Have you got the cabinets here?’

‘No, but there are some pictures on the computer. Take a look. They should be in the file marked “stock, warehouse”. Under bedside cabinets?’

‘Bit obvious—I think I’d rather look in the one marked this year’s diary,’ Rocco called after her as Cass made her way into the back of the shop.

Cass laughed. ‘Knock yourself out, Rocco. My social highlights at the moment are dental appointments, haircuts and choir stuff.’

‘I was hoping there’d be a few stars in the margin. How are the boys?’

‘Last time I heard from them they were fine. Joe was hungover and Daniel was in debt, but that’s university for you.’

‘So okay then? Will they be home for Christmas?’

Cass laughed. ‘It’s obvious you’ve never had kids Rocco. I’m their mother, I’ll be the last one to find out.’

Cass went back to making the tea, wondering how it was that her mother had ended up with a guy like Rocco and she was all on her own. Life was strange at times. She could hear him fiddling about, tapping on the keyboard and then he said, ‘Oh they’re nice. Are those the original handles?’

‘Yup, and they’re not bad, few nicks and dents and there’s been a repair to the veneer, just general wear and tear really. Overall they’re not bad for their age.’

‘We are still talking about bedside cabinets here, are we?’ he asked. Cass could hear the humour in his voice.

Rocco and Cass went back a long, long way, to the dim distant days when Rocco had been her boss, and Cass had been married to Neil, and Rocco hadn’t been married to her mother, Nita.

Cass had introduced them at a cheese and wine party at the local college where she’d been teaching interior design part-time. Rocco had been her head of department, Nita had been happy but lonely, and Cass had got Rocco down as gay.

Cass had assumed they would get on, but she hadn’t assumed they would get on quite so well as they did. Twelve years on, and Rocco and Nita were still getting on well. The fact he was around fifteen years younger and fit as a butcher’s whippet seemed to present no problems at all to either of them.

Cass brought in a tray of tea and the biscuits. ‘So, what are you up to?’

‘At the moment? Work-wise we’ve got some corporate stuff and we’ve just taken on a complete makeover for some media type, art deco mad, hence the cabinets. She’s bought one of the apartments in Vancouver House.’

‘Down on the old wharf?’

‘S’right. Cold Harbour. You’d have thought the marketing guys would have come up with something a little cheerier—Cold Harbour. I mean, what does that sound like?’

Cass grinned. ‘Nice conversion, though. I remember the days when it was full of junkies and rats down there.’

‘Cynics might say it still is, they’re just driving Porsches and Beamers these days. How about you? You busy?’

‘Ish—why, have you got something for me?’

Rocco grinned. ‘Might have, there’s a nice little job in Cambridge coming up in the New Year that I thought might be right up your street.’ He glanced at the computer screen. ‘And the cabinets are cute.’

‘They certainly are. As I said, very nice.’

‘Presumably that means you’ll be doubling the price if I say I’m really interested?’

Cass grinned. ‘What else are family for? I’m sure we can do a deal…So, how’s Mum?’

Rocco took the mug of tea she handed him. ‘Fine form, although she’s still trying to persuade me that we should sell up and buy a fucking barge. I’ve told her I get seasick in the bath but she won’t have it. Anyway, we’re going over to Amsterdam to look at a Tjalk some time soon. And before you ask, it’s some kind of huge bloody canal boat. She’s arranged for us to go sailing with these two gay guys who own it. She’s thinking “party”. I’m thinking Kwells. How about you?’

‘Nothing so exciting. Choir trip in few weeks, which should be fun—we’re going to Cyprus. Oh and we’ve got a concert-cum-dress rehearsal before we leave. Can I put you and Mum down for a couple of tickets?’

‘Don’t see why not. And how’s what’s-his-name?’

‘Gone but not forgotten.’

‘What was his name, help me out here?’

Cass shrugged. ‘No idea, he came, he went—you know what men are like.’

‘You’re making it up,’ said Rocco, helping himself out of the biscuit tin. ‘Oh—oh, wait—it’s on the tip of my tongue. Jack, Sam—’