My Daughter, My Mother
“She saw Karen looking down her nose at the meal.‘What’s up with you, miss? Not good enough for yer?’‘No, it’s just – now and then Mom, it’d be better for us if we had some fresher food, that’s all. Instead of ready-made stuff. All the vitamins get lost in the processing . . .’ Karen trailed off, silenced by the look in her mother’s eye.Margaret stared at her, holding the spatula she was using to lift the pies. She felt like slapping Karen with it. Little Miss Know-It-All. And of course Fred wou...ldn’t say anything – he’d just sit there, gormless as ever.‘Anyway,’ Karen said hurriedly, keen to keep the peace, ‘when Joanne rang last night she said – well, like I told you – Amy’s fine and she’s going to stop there a bit longer and give Dave time to cool down. She wants to think things through.’‘Well, that seems—’ Fred started to say, but Margaret interrupted.‘I should think she does want to think things through – and the quicker, the better.MoreLess
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