Me, You and Tiramisu. Charlotte Butterfield

      Jayne peered at her, disbelieving, ‘Crystal?’

      ‘Oh hush, darling, you know I hate it when you call me that!’ She squeezed her shoulders just a tiny bit too hard, ‘This is such a wonderful surprise. Now, darling, sit down and tell your mummy everything!’ Mummy? Jayne looked back at the old man, who was rocking back on his heels, hands in his cardigan pockets, smiling at what looked, for all intents and purposes, like a touching mother-daughter reunion. For a split second Jayne thought that she was either being secretly filmed by a Saturday-night TV show and Ant and Dec were going to spring out from behind one of the new linen drapes that were dusting the floor, or she’d stumbled into some kind of parallel universe. Crystal tapped the sofa seat next to her, ‘Come on, Jayney, and don’t leave anything out!’

      ‘Um … Rachel and my boyfriend, Will, are in the car … I should go and fetch them.’

      Crystal clapped her hands together in delight, ‘Oh my goodness, my Rachy’s here too! And you have a boyfriend? You never said!’ Jayne didn’t quite know during which make- believe conversation she was meant to have relayed this information, seeing as they hadn’t spoken since her last visit, but decided to play along to whatever was going on in her mother’s head.

      ‘Um, yes, Will, sorry about not mentioning it before, I … er … wanted it to be a surprise. I’ll, um, go get them in, then, shall I?’

      ‘The more the merrier!’ Crystal and the old man chorused.

      During her deliberately slow walk to the car she tried to understand what had just gone on before she tried to articulate it to the two people who knew her best in the world. And what she came up with was: ‘Mum’s gone loop the loop, you better come in.’

      Rachel’s arms crossed defiantly, ‘I’ve already told you, I’m not setting foot in that house.’

      ‘Believe me, Rach, you’re going to want to see this. I think she’s got some sort of dementia, and there’s this old guy, who might be her carer or something, and the house looks like it belongs in Country Living. I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to come in.’

      ‘Dementia?’ Will slammed his door, ‘does she recognise you?’

      ‘Yes, but she wants me to call her Mummy and sit on the sofa and, you know, talk to her.’

      ‘Is she pissed?’

      ‘No, that’s the weird thing, she seems completely sober. It’s like she’s got a wholesome twin we never knew about and they’ve swapped lives.’

      ‘Okay, okay, this I have to see.’ Rachel begrudgingly got out of the car and all three of them trooped into the house.

      ‘Rachel!’ A flash of emerald and a swoosh of silk and suddenly Crystal was hugging a stiffened Rachel, whose arms remained resolutely at her side, one of Crystal’s arms then loosened, drawing Jayne into the embrace too. ‘My babies, my babies are back!’

      Rachel mouthed ‘What the fuck?’ over their mother’s head, and Jayne gave a little shrug back. Will was loitering by the door taking in the whole scene; he told them afterwards that he was trying to work out how to take his phone out with no one noticing and start filming the scene in case they needed to use it as evidence to have her sectioned.

      Briefly breaking away from her daughters when she spotted Will, Crystal visibly straightened and purred seductively, ‘and who is this?’

      In an act that can only be described as pure territorialism, in fact, Jayne couldn’t have been more blatant had she peed in a circle around him, she darted to his side, grabbed his hand and said, ‘Crystal, er, Mum, this is Will, my, er, boyfriend.’

      Crystal looked at him, then at Jayne, then back at him in sheer disbelief, her mouth slightly ajar, eyes narrowed, if she had the ability to raise one eyebrow, this would have been the moment that skill would have been used for. ‘Well you’re not the only one to bag yourself a hunk,’ she slowly walked over to the fireplace and slipped her arm around the old man’s waist, who seemed to be leaning against the mantel for support, and said, ‘Darlings, I want you to meet someone rather special to me, my gorgeous Stanley.’ They then kissed in the way only old people can, Stanley with his dry, wrinkled lips pursed together, eyes closed, their mother taking this show of affection to an entirely unnecessary level by putting her hand on his chino-clad bottom.

      ‘Jesus Christ, Crystal. You’ll give the old man a heart attack,’ muttered Rachel with a disgusted sigh.

      ‘I think that’s the point,’ Will whispered and flinched as Jayne poked him in the ribs.

      ‘So, who’s for tea?’ Stanley asked brightly, clapping his hands together.

      Before his words had even finished forming, Rachel snapped back, ‘We can’t stay.’

      ‘I think we can manage a quick cuppa,’ Jayne widened her eyes at Rachel and Will before following Stanley into the kitchen to help. She still hadn’t got a hold of the situation unfolding. There was this arthritic pensioner who Jayne charitably thought seemed very nice, there was her mother, who’d quite clearly been possessed, and this house that resembled the one where they grew up only by the number on the front door. Stanley clattered some Denby cups and saucers onto a tray.

      Growing up, all their crockery had the emblem of Little Chef on their bases, which had been slipped into Crystal’s bag when she’d done her first and only shift there. Remnants of those six hours she’d spent employed had been scattered liberally around the house – including salt-and-pepper shakers, a clock, batteries and an extension lead. She would have taken the electrical appliances that had been attached to the lead as well had she brought a bigger bag to work that day. ‘Rookie error’ she’d described it at the time.

      Jayne filled up the kettle and started making inane comments about how nice the garden was looking, and was Stanley a keen horticulturist – the type of questions that old people love, but you never thought when you were younger would actually ever come out of your mouth.

      ‘I do enjoy going round the garden centre, I must admit, choosing what should be planted, although the days when I can bend down, fingers sifting soil, have long gone, I’m afraid. But Crystal’s found this young chap who’s ever so nice, to come round a few times a week and tend to it when I’m out. He’s a bit slow on the old weeding front. Sometimes when he’s been here for an hour or so I don’t really know what he’s done, but Crystal tells me he’s been ever so busy, so I don’t really like to probe.’

      He raised his voice over the noise of the boiling kettle. ‘I’ve been so lucky finding Crystal.’

      ‘Um, how did you two meet again?’

      ‘Well, she found me, actually, my wife had just passed – we’d been together for fifty-two years – and a little article came out in the Torbay Gazette about Beryl. She was once the Mayoress, you see, so they wrote this lovely piece about her and Crystal wrote to me after that, giving her condolences and passing on a message that Beryl had for me from the other side. She’s terribly gifted, your mother, and we struck up a friendship. She’s like a breath of fresh air to me, so loving, and she could see that I was rambling around in that big old house by myself, seeing Beryl in every room, so when she suggested selling it and moving here with her and using the money to make our own little palace, I thought, what a lucky chap I am!’

      Jayne opened the large American-style double-door fridge under the pretext of getting the milk out, but she took the opportunity while her back was turned to close her eyes and take a deep, steadying breath without him seeing. As she closed the fridge door a photograph that was tacked to the front of it with magnets caught her eye. It was a picture of two female soldiers in camouflage gear, grinning through their war paint at the lens, long rifles and cumbersome backpacks slung on their shoulders. ‘Are these your grandchildren, Stanley?’ Jayne asked, thinking it best to try to show the old man any ill will they had was not aimed in his direction. She admired his sentimentality and patriotism, proudly displaying his granddaughters.

      He