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‘Wonderful! So?—’

‘Hang on, Mum. I think I might have made a mistake when I told you about… when I said I was signed off for a couple of weeks.’

‘How so?’

‘Mum, it was a month. I just… I’m not sure why I didn’t say.’ Becky held the phone a little away from her ear and screwed up her face, ready for the onslaught.

‘What the dickens! Rebecca! I mean, gadzooks!’

‘I’m sorry, I must have?—’

‘Don’t give me that, young lady. You didn’t tell me because you were ashamed, am I right?’

Becky felt her face flush involuntarily as if she were fourteen again and lying about staying out late. ‘Not exactly, but?—’

‘The very cheek of it.’ It wasn’t clear whether her mother was now talking about Becky’s lie or her being signed off for so long. ‘Well, that’s settled then, you have to come home immediately! Get back in there and fight for your job, my girl.’

‘I am coming home. It’s just… It’s the café – things are… well, I’m still decorating and?—’

‘Really, Rebecca? Do you honestly need to be there for that? Surely you can just get a man in. I can always send some?—’

‘No. It’s OK, Mum. It’s well on the way!’ She forced some positivity into her voice.

‘You do realise the seriousness of the situation, I suppose?’

‘Mum.’ Becky tried to keep the impatience from her voice.

It went against her nature to let someone talk to her like this; but she’d learnt the hard way that locking horns with her mother was both exhausting and pointless.

Humouring was a better option. ‘I am going to get back to work as soon as possible. I just have to finish up here. We’re nearly done,’ she lied.

‘Botheration.’

‘Yes.’

‘I do actually have some news though,’ she said, closing her eyes. Might as well get it all over with at once.

‘You do? Well, come on! Out with it!’

‘You know that we got the letter from the notaire ?’

‘Well obviously.’

‘We assumed that Maud had… passed,’ Becky said. ‘But if you think about it, the letter didn’t say that explicitly.’

‘I don’t understand… Why would the letter?—’

‘Mum,’ she said, gently. ‘Maud isn’t dead.’

‘Heavens to Betsy!’ her mother exclaimed loudly. ‘Maud is alive. Is she there? At the café? Why didn’t you say anything before? What on earth would make you keep this from me? Did you know before you went out there? Is that why you were so keen to fly over?’

Becky waited for her mother to draw breath, then, ‘No. Mum. Wait. I didn’t know. And she isn’t here. She’s in a care home. I only found out myself yesterday.’

‘Good gracious.’

‘Yes, I went to see her.’

‘Oh.’ Her mum’s tone sounded guarded. ‘How was she? I expect her memory’s not what?—’

‘Actually, Mum, she’s doing really well. Her mind is completely intact. It’s just a broken hip and I think a loss of mobility after that. She couldn’t run the café and needed care so… It’s a nice place, too.’

‘Well, yes. Of course. Of course that was the right thing to do. But heavens! What a shock!’ There was a pause. ‘Did she… mention me?’

‘A little.’

There was a silence.

‘Rebecca, I really think it would be a good idea to come home. You clearly haven’t inherited a café, and I’m going to investigate how the solicitor’s letter got it so very wrong. And it’ll be time to get back to the office soon, I’m sure. Perhaps we could get a second opinion on the burnout and…’

‘No, Mum. Maud has given me the café.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes. A sort of advance gift from her Will.’

‘Sounds a little more like subterfuge,’ her mother said darkly. ‘Tax avoidance probably. And, it seems, a way to get you to visit her against your will!’

‘A little strong, Mother?’

‘You don’t know Maud like I do.’

‘Well, I suppose she did say she’d wanted to see me, hoped the gift would encourage me to visit. But obviously she wouldn’t give me a café just to get me to book a plane ticket.’

Another silence. ‘So you’re coming home soon? Look, I’ve been thinking about the flat. And I could sub you the money – easily, in fact. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before!’

‘Because you wanted me to stand on my own two feet?’

‘Well, perhaps Maud’s inspired me. The money will be yours eventually, of course. After I’ve gone.’

‘Mum, you’re sixty-three.’

‘I am aware of that, Rebecca!’

‘You’re not going anywhere. It’s me who has all the health problems!’ Becky said, trying to lighten the mood.

‘Land sakes, Rebecca. You are fine.’ Her mother’s voice seemed to crack slightly on the final words. ‘Look, come home. Let’s get that flat of yours sorted, shall we? And perhaps we can pop back again together to see Maud at some point, if you’d like?’

‘Thank you, Mum. It sounds… it’s a lovely offer.’

‘So, I’ll see you soon?’

‘I’ve got some things to do… some thinking. But thank you. It’s so nice of you. And you know… I’ll call you.’

‘And book your ticket soon, too, I hope?’

‘Yes,’ Becky found herself saying. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Good. Good girl.’ Her mother hung up without saying goodbye.

Well, that was – as her mother would no doubt term it – ‘a turn-up for the books.’

If only she’d known that all she had to do to get a bit more financial support from her mum was to suffer burnout, inherit a café in France, travel to the continent and resurrect an aunt from the dead, then she’d have done it years ago.

Her mum’s offer would have simplified things enormously a couple of weeks ago. But now, she wasn’t sure why, the choice didn’t seem so clear-cut. And the flat didn’t seem very important at all.

She tried to ring Amber again.

The phone cut to an answering service, but she didn’t leave a message.