BR - In the Open Part 4

“Hope she’s not having a puff. Is that allowed in your football league? I never liked that Penny,” Shauna is saying as she shows you old photographs of Beth, which are every bit as cute as you expected, but you have to be a little careful so she continues to think that you’re just a friend.

Beth comes home late in the afternoon with some shopping and dinner. You were worried that she was up to something; you’ve seen her lie, and you suspected that she was when she mentioned going to see this Penny person.

But it looks as though you worried for nothing.

“Is this that FUTA’s fault?” Shauna asks critically as you eat the fancy salads that Beth has brought home. “Turned you into a rabbit, have they?”

“Mum, it’s all right to eat a vegetable once a day.”

“Is it your body? Have they convinced you that you aren’t skinny enough? Because they’re mad,” Shauna goes on, undeterred. “You’ve got the other problem, Elizabeth. You’ll never marry, flat as you are. Should be having pie.”

You keep your head down, cringing.

Beth just blinks her eyes several times, takes a breath, and keeps eating.

“Two pies,” Shauna amends, oblivious. “And a curry. And some dessert. Have you brought dessert?”

“Yes, Mum.”

The longer you’re here, the better you understand Beth’s behavior up to this point. Shauna’s even less well-behaved after she’s had several gin and tonics, which come after dinner as you’re all watching TV together on the couch.

It’s not an unpleasant experience. In fact, you’re enjoying yourself. You love Shauna, but she does make you appreciate your own mother. Your mom isn’t perfect by any means, but she is much less likely to embarrass you in front of company like Shauna does to Beth.

A little snacking and a few cocktails in a living room instead of a bar with your girlfriend and her mom instead of a bunch of strangers is as close to perfect as you expect things to get on this vacation. Or holiday, as Beth puts it.

“All right then, loves.” Shauna excuses herself to go to bed as it starts getting late. When she’s gone, Beth doesn’t hesitate to get closer to you, but she stops short of cuddling. Some more British television starts, and you sit and watch with her.

She yawns and stretches just as the show is getting good. You’re nested on the sofa comfortably, so it’s devastating when Beth stands up.

“We’re going to bed now?” you ask.

“I’m tired,” Beth replies.

“But we haven’t seen who killed the… the…” you say, gesturing at the TV.

“The Contessa,” she supplies.

“That word.”

“Watch it, then. You can tell me who it was.”

You watch her leave the room. She’s being a little weird again.