“So, how’s Tom?” asked Frances.
“Oh, worse than ever!” It was Aunt Flo. Perfect timing. She smiled at us with some satisfaction. Pam went over to help her onto the patio. The welcome change of subject always raised eyebrows from Pam and caustic remarks from Flo. Although Frances had never met my diminutive uncle, she felt as if she knew Flo’s husband, a thorn in his eldest daughter’s side but long a tickle stick in mine.
“Tell them, Pam!” Flo could not wait to reach us. “You wouldn’t credit it, Denis!”
“He thinks we’re trying to poison him,” said Pam, with weary indifference.
Flo sat down carefully, straightening her dress. She sighed with a smile and went on, “I’d do a much better job of it, if I wanted to poison him!” Flo laughed with mocking disdain.
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