“and I do think she’s worried about the journey next week. She’s eighty-seven.” Piglet nodded, her eyes back on the road. “I said that I’d talk to you about staying over.” Piglet stole another look at her mother, who was looking out of the window, biting her lip. “Why didn’t she say?” Piglet asked. “The rooms at the Ardington are all taken now.” “They were a little rich for her blood,” her mother said, eyes flicking as she watched cars pass. “I couldn’t ask Kit’s parents to pay for everyone, Mum.” “No,” her mother said, turning away from the window, meeting Piglet’s eyes in the mirror. “I
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Rsvp no if you are over 70. Its a pity invite anyway
