Moorhouse Inn
Ascension Day
Ally went out picking flowers with Sam. Donna Lea appeared with a briefcase to address the dwindling sales and the crisis facing us and the Moorhouse should the trend continue. She was so very sympathetic about Mum and says the brewery will do anything to help. She lost her Papa aged 45. "Buy a piano", she says. Otherwise, drivel. You know what area managers are like.
Phoned Dad tonight. He was in a bad way. Weeping, &c. Mum isn't drinking water now either, and so it's just a matter of time. He was so desolate. I flapped about this and phoned John, Janette and Susie. I decide to go back to Horton tomorrow, but Sue says she will go on Sunday. I advised her that Sunday might be too late. I walked back from the call box in a dream. It is all so very hard to believe. Can it really be my jolly, zestful mother we are talking about? Ally looked at me as I walked into the bar, and from the look on her face it was obvious that she thought I had ghastly news. We are under a lot of strain.
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