“Have we missed the East Enders?” asked Jessie.
“That was ages ago,” said Lew.
“Bugger it,” said Jessie.
And surprisingly predictable. She’d missed her favorite show, so she settled for what was showing. Lew had brought a book and was not bothered either way. When Frances entered the living room, Mum had already nodded off and Lew was looking at the racing page.
“’Glorious Goodwood,’ that’s what they called it. Glorious, my arse! Nothing special. Lose your money on that course as well as any other course.”
“We could visit Goodwood. If we had some binoculars, you could see the racing from the garden.”
“Naaaw, better to see the racing on the telly.”
“What’s going on?” Mum woke up, blinked at the TV. “Did I go to sleep?”
“You were out like a light, come on, time to get you up to bed,” said Lew.
Lew pried Mum out of the armchair and together they toddled upstairs.
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