I didn’t like to dwell on what had caused it, but as I shuffled to the kitchen for coffee, I considered giving the lido a miss that day. No firm plan had been made with Lara, so I wouldn’t be letting her down. To cheer myself up, I phoned Molly. Mobile signal being uncertain at the Stoneborough house, I’d been calling her there on the landline, trying not to feel hurt on the occasions she chose not to come to the phone but have her news relayed through an elder. When she did, she released few snippets. Great-grandma’s glasses had fallen off her nose into the trifle. The custard in said trifle hadn’t set properly and Molly didn’t want to eat it. (‘You know I can’t eat anything sloppy.’) It was too hot. Her bedroom smelt weird. Also, she hadn’t been able to WhatsApp her friends because the house was the only place in the western hemisphere without WiFi. ‘Have you seen Rio again?’ I asked. ‘We saw him with his great-gran yesterday. Grandma says there isn’t a great-granddad, not because he’s dead but because he’s a deadbeat.’ ‘I see, how witty.
