A Groom With a View by Sophie Ranald Read Free Book Online Page A

low-grade salt poisoning after Mum’s dessert. “I’d love one,” I said. “Thanks.”
    Nick swayed off down the carriage and I turned my attention back to his iPad, trying to breathe myself into a state of Zen calm as I reread Erica’s email. She was just a woman with a strong sense of family values, I told myself. She just wanted the best for her son. But I couldn’t help waves of resentment crashing over me as I read.
    “I know you won’t lose sight of the preciousness of family bonds when you are planning this day,” Erica had written. “Alongside my spirituality, the ties that bind me to my family are the most precious thing in the world to me. Which is why it has been so hard for me to answer the call of duty that has kept me so far away from the people I love best for so many years.” Utter bollocks, I thought, she couldn’t wait to get on a flight to India when Nick’s dad died.
    “So I am overjoyed that I will be seeing you again so soon, my precious boy. Thank you for your generous offer of a bed with you and Pippa for the three months leading up to the big day! I am very much in need of a rest but I hope I can help and support you both and be a big part of all your plans.
    “Love and peace, Mum.
    “PS – have you heard anything from Bethany recently? What a lovely girl she was.”
    One look at my face must have been enough for Nick to know what I had seen. He put our drinks on the table and sat down.
    “Oh shit, Pippa, I’m sorry. I was going to. . .”
    “You were going to tell me. Tell me. Do me the courtesy of telling me that you’ve invited your mother to come and stay for three months without actually asking me if I minded, and letting her wank on about how wonderful your ex is in the same breath as accepting?”
    “Okay, just hear me out, please, before you go off on one.” Nick fished the teabag out of his plastic cup. “I really didn’t have any choice. Mum told me in her last email that she’s completely burned out. She’s been working ten-hour days, seven-day weeks for months now. And Vision for Liberia have basically ordered her to go home and get some rest. She said it coincided perfectly with wanting to come out anyway, and helping with the wedding, which she’s offered to pay for, remember, out of the money she made selling her house, which is why she has nowhere else to stay when she’s here.”
    “Really?” I said. “I was under the impression that she had one or two nieces and nephews floating about the place. Clearly I was mistaken.”
    “Pippa,” Nick reached out and squeezed my arm. “Please don’t be angry about it. I know you and Mum don’t always get on. But she’s my mother. I haven’t seen her for three years, because last time she came home we were on holiday in Greece. I can’t just say she can’t stay with us, and expect Aunt Dawn or whoever to put her up. Think how that would make her feel.”
    “How do you think it makes me feel when every time I see her she makes digs at me and finds fault with everything I do, and apparently thinks I’m some kind of scarlet woman?” I demanded. “Nick, I have tried, you know I have. But she’s just vile to me. She’s been vile to me since I was eighteen.”
    “She’s mellowed,” Nick said. “Honestly, she has. She’s really affectionate about you in that email. And ignore what she said about Bethany. It doesn’t mean a thing.”
    If that was affection, I’d hate to see hostility. Actually, I’d seen Erica’s hostility often and knew it well. The thing is, so many of the little things she’s done to undermine me over the years have been under the guise of being helpful and supportive. Like when we went to Prague for a long weekend and Nick asked her to pop in and feed Spanx. She did, and it was very kind and generous of her, but then she took it upon herself to defrost our fridge and throw away the fresh white truffle I’d bought at Borough Market for fifty quid. And then she ‘forgot’ to