The Patterson Girls by Rachael Johns Page B

Skype. But apparently Mags was having the time of her life. She sent regular emails about her adventures and it sounded like she had many fans in the retirement village, including a few gentleman friends. Madeleine couldn’t blame them; there was just something about Mags that uplifted all those around her.
    It was a blessing for all of them that she’d chosen to spend Christmas at the motel instead of heading out to the farm to see her nephews. Hopefully with Aunt Mags knocking back the gin and tonics at the kitchen table, conversation would flow more easily than it had the last few days. If anyone could make Dad smile, it was his much-loved, eccentric older sister.
    â€˜I can’t wait to see her,’ Abigail said as they climbed the steps of the retirement village’s reception. Neither of them had been here before so they needed directions to Mags’s villa.
    â€˜Me too.’ Madeleine pushed open the door and held it while Abigail stepped into the foyer.
    â€˜Wow, not bad.’ Abigail’s words echoed Madeleine’s thoughts as they glanced around what seemed more like the reception of a five-star hotel than, let’s face it, the entrance to what was essentially a dressed-up nursing home.
    â€˜Hello? Can I help you?’ A terribly thin, tiny woman behind the desk stood up and peered at them over the top of her steel-rimmed spectacles. She didn’t look pleased to be working on Christmas Day.
    â€˜We’re here to pick up Margaret Patterson,’ Madeleine told her.
    The woman’s face lit up at the mention of Aunt Mags. ‘She’s in villa 2B. Just outside this door—’ She pointed to her right ‘—and across the courtyard, then turn left and you’ll see it.’
    They thanked the woman and then followed her directions, walking through what felt like a tropical oasis. If Madeleine didn’t know better, she’d have thought she was in Bali. If all retirement villages were like this, she wouldn’t mind getting old.
    â€˜It’s quiet, isn’t it?’ Abigail noted as they approached the first row of little houses.
    â€˜I guess most people are off visiting their families.’
    Before Abigail could reply they heard a loud, ‘You-hoo, over here!’
    They both laughed as they caught sight of Mags standing outside 2B waving her arms like someone needing to be rescued from the sea. She was dressed as Mrs Claus and wore a ridiculous smile.
    â€˜Oh, Aunt Mags.’ Abigail launched into a jog, closing the distance between herself and their aunt. She threw herself into the older woman’s arms and rested her head on her gigantic bosom. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
    â€˜Dear, dear child, enough of the theatrics,’ Aunt Mags scolded, patting Abigail on the back. ‘You’ll embarrass me in front of my friends.’
    â€˜What friends?’ Madeleine asked, looking around and seeing no one.
    Mags gave her a look. ‘Enough of your cheek, young lady, I have plenty of friends, but their families were less tardy about collecting them. I almost got heat stroke waiting for you two.’
    Madeleine thought the costume might have something to do with that, but she knew better than to suggest such a thing to her crazy aunt. ‘Let’s get going now then,’ she said instead.
    Aunt Mags beamed and offered them each an arm. ‘Grab my bag will you, Madeleine.’
    She did as she was told and as they walked to the van they listened to Mags chat about a Christmas Eve party one of her neighbours had thrown last night. Apparently one of the residents had gotten so drunk on sherry that she’d sworn it was snowing.
    â€˜Esme went outside, lay down on the grass and tried to make snow angels and nobody could get her back up. In the end we had to call the nurses. But enough about me,’ Mags barked as she clicked her seatbelt into place and settled her hands on the dashboard like she