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others, it made him nervous.
    He edged through the door to meet her hobbling down the stairs. ‘Don’t leave the shopping there. Someone might trip over it.’
    Who?
Who?
He was about to start the counter-attack (‘Sorry. I hadn’t realized you had other guests’) when his eye fell on the brown envelope propped in the letter rack to attract his attention.
Frampton Commercial
. Well, there was at least one non-confrontational subject for theafternoon: her undimmed consumer skills. And credit, to be fair, where it was due. Anything she could still do for herself was one more thing he didn’t have to do for her. And Dilys had given them the thumbs-up. So he made the effort to reward her for her competence with a touch of civility. ‘They came up trumps, then, your Frampton Commercial?’
    â€˜Tickety-boo! I’m as happy as two babies in a bath. Do you realize I’ve saved more than a third of the annual premium?’
    â€˜Over a third?’
    â€˜It’s a lot, isn’t it? I’d no idea that I’d been overpaying all these years. I’m quite delighted with myself. I’m not quite the stupid old woman everyone thinks I am.’
    â€˜Nobody thinks you’re stupid.’
    â€˜Oh yes, you do. Don’t try to hide it.’
    He pushed the shopping under the hall table, making an effort not to kick it. Let it defrost there. Let it
rot
. Where did old people learn this knack of making it impossible to keep a conversation pleasant? And why was it so difficult not to fight back? ‘I expect there’ll be some problem with the amount of your coverage . . .’
    And look! He’d lost! ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Mr Smartypants! With this company, my coverage is exactly the same. Better, in fact, because . . .’ And all the way up the stairs she tormented him with the new policy’s advantages in the matters of Coastal Erosion (‘You’re eighty miles from the sea here!’), Damage from Riots (‘In West
Priding
?’), and Escapes of Oil (‘I think you’ll find, Mother, you’re on gas’). Hoping this persecution of him was not to be the theme of the whole afternoon, he trailed her upto her bedroom, where she limped noisily to her armchair by the window. ‘So, all in all, I’m quite a chump for not changing years ago.’
    She sank in the cushions. And with the light full on her face, she looked horribly old. It suddenly seemed so unsuitable to him, so very wrong, that she should have to think about things like insurance at all.
    â€˜Not necessarily,’ he offered generously. ‘The good terms might be quite recent. Or a loss leader, or something.’
    The turtle eye opened and glared. ‘Oh, that’s right. Tell me the premiums are going to shoot up again, now that poor Muggins has signed on.’
    â€˜That isn’t what I said.’
    But his concession had won him a truce. Instead of pursuing her malevolent interpretation of his remark, she gazed at the house opposite. ‘See that new porch? They were fools enough to buy it from Manderley’s. Piece of old tat. It’s been leaking from the first day – just like those cut-price welly boots he sold me.’
    A trace of a memory surfaced from his last visit. ‘Did I tell you that Mrs Deary got a lovely crop of thistles out of that grass seed he sold her?’
    â€˜
Did
she?’ Now he had given her a gift indeed. She was delighted with him. He didn’t dare break the spell by offering to go down and get the tea for which he was gasping, now Dil’s leaden-brand pasta had started its long, distending run through his poor gut. He simply anchored his feet more comfortably against the comatose Floss and let the soothing flow of his mother’s words wash over him. ‘I suppose you know your pack of villains are threateningto have our drains up again? That’ll be the third time in eighteen