Mother Knows Best

“Okay, are we ready, now?  She’ll be here any minute.”

“Don’t panic, everything’s organised,” Phoebe’s slightly muffled reply, however, was the epitome of calm.  “The dinner’s simmering, the rooms have been dusted and vacuumed – twice – and we’ve both got our best clothes on, Chris.”

She walked elegantly out of the bedroom, delicate fingers attaching the clip of her diamond stud earring, momentarily taking Chris’s breath away.

The door-bell rang.  A look of fear and an imploring glance at Phoebe yielded nothing.  “Answer the door, then.”  He felt her hand on his back.  “You shouldn’t keep your mother waiting.”

“Mum, great to see you.”  Chris leaned forward and brushed his lips past the proffered cheek.  “Come in.”

“Hello, Chris, darling.”  He knew the tone – the inspection was underway.  “So, this is your new flat.”

Phoebe walked forward, her hand outstretched.  “Mrs. Jamieson, it’s a pleasure to meet you.  Chris is always talking about you.”

“Call me Sandra.”  His mother returned the smile and their hands met.  “Are you two, er...?”

Chris closed the door and joined them, deciding to try and nip this in the bud straight away.  “No, Mum, we’re just flatmates.  I told you, Phoebe and I are at the same university.  Neither of us could afford a place on our own, we both hate living on campus, so it sort of made sense.”

“Oh, I see.”  Mother didn’t appear to be convinced.  “A couple living together who aren’t romantically involved?”

“Not these days, Mum.”  Chris flashed his best smile.  “It is possible to have friends of the opposite sex, you know.”

“If you say so, dear.”

“Let me take your coat, Sandra.”  Phoebe saved him from the impending pregnant pause.  “Then Chris can show you round the flat while I check on dinner.”

“Right, then, Mum - the guided tour.”  Chris wondered how she always managed to make him desperate to impress her, yet always knowing he wouldn’t.

He led his mother in and out of the bathroom, realising that he may have got a little carried away with the lemon fragranced cleaner.  Then into the two bedrooms, equally pristine and with bedspreads that a 1960's nurse would have been proud of, although Chris wished he’d put his sweatshirt away.  Mother almost looked satisfied.  Next came the living room cum dining room, freshly dusted, just as Phoebe had said.  Chris knew that she was in scan mode again and almost dared her to find any dust.

“And last, but not least, the heart of any home, as you always told me, Mum, the kitchen.”  Chris pushed the door open to reveal the final room on the tour.

“Very nice, dear.”  Mother walked in, past Phoebe and looked out of the window.  “You don’t get a garden, then?”

“Unfortunately, not.”  Phoebe answered for him.  “Well, not one for private use.  There is a communal area that all the tenants can make use of, but we haven’t been here long enough to try it.  And the weather hasn’t exactly been conducive to having our meals alfresco,” she added.

“Well, it is early Spring, dear.  What are you studying?”  Mother’s inquisitive side was gaining momentum.

“English Literature,” answered Phoebe, turning down the gas and preparing the gravy.

“I’d never have guessed – not many books in here.”  Did Chris sense a dash of venom in there?

If she noticed, Phoebe didn’t make it plain.  “Okay, dinner is served.  Take your seats, please, and I’ll bring it in.”

The meal went surprisingly well.  The conversation was light.  Mother asking suitable questions about the university, what their courses were like, what the lecturers were like and so forth.  Phoebe was polite, smiled a lot and answered every one.  They seemed to be getting along splendidly.

“That was a delicious meal, dear.”  Mother placed her knife and fork at the correct angle across her plate before finishing her glass of wine.  “Now, allow me to repay your kindness and do the dishes.”

“That’s okay, Mum.”  Chris emptied his third glass and got to his feet.  “I’ll take care of it.”

Mother, however, was resolute.  “Nonsense, there isn’t too much.  You two can bring the crockery out to the kitchen, but that’s it.  Leave it to me.  Don’t worry, Chris, I won’t break anything.”

Chris looked at Phoebe, grinned and shrugged his shoulders.  “Well,” he said.  “I’m not going to argue with her.  Are you, babe?”

“Thank you, Sandra.”  Phoebe hadn’t had quite so much wine.  “That’s very kind of you.”

Once the plates had been delivered, as requested, Chris and Phoebe returned to the living room.  Chris listened to his mother busying herself in their kitchen, wondering if she still didn’t trust him to do it properly.

The rest of the state visit passed off without incident and, by the time Mother left, the three of them were chatting, laughing and joking like old friends – well, almost.