Pictures of Lily

by Paige Toon

  I can’t help but smile.

  ‘Would you like that?’ he checks.

  ‘Absolutely,’ I reply.

  ‘Good. But like I said, keep it under your hat for now.’

  ‘I won’t breathe a word.’

  Two hours later, I’m back in the real world. Richard can barely look at me as he comes through the front door. I have a sudden overwhelming desire to have things revert to normal so I can share my news with him, but there’s no going back now.

  ‘I didn’t know if you were going to come home,’ I say feebly.

  ‘Neither did I,’ he mutters.

  ‘Can we talk about this?’

  ‘Have you got anything more to tell me?’

  ‘No, I . . .’

  ‘I can’t deal with this, Lily. This whole situation is so far from anything I ever expected from you. Is this why you’ve been so funny about us getting engaged? Why you haven’t wanted to tell people? Why you almost didn’t even say yes?’

  I nod, downcast.

  He exhales deeply. ‘So you’ve been hanging out for this guy for how long?’

  ‘Ten years.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘I bumped into him when I went to the zoo with my sisters.’ I explain about Ben’s divorce, how we worked together at the conservation park, how I discovered he had feelings for me back then. Richard, to his enormous credit, doesn’t make any derogatory remarks this time, but I can tell by his face how hard it is to hear.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he says eventually. He’s sitting on the sofa and I’m on the armchair across from him, as we were last night. ‘How you could even consider throwing all this away.’ He indicates the house around us. ‘And you and me. We’re so good together, Lils. At least, I thought we were.’

  ‘We are,’ I insist. ‘We are. I love you, but—’

  ‘Don’t,’ he says with anguish, so I cut my sentence short. ‘Look, I’m not going to beg you. Either you love me enough or you don’t. All I know is that I don’t think I can be around you while you’re making up your mind. And that doesn’t mean I want you to be around him, either.’

  He looks at me and says fiercely, ‘I mean it. If you call him or see him again, it’s over.’

  Pain clutches my heart.

  ‘Go and stay with your mum for a couple of days,’ he suggests. ‘Think it through. Then I hope we can move on from this. But I’m not going to fight him for you,’ he adds bitterly. ‘You can make up your own mind. And I hope to fuck you come to your senses and realise that the grass isn’t always greener.’

  Chapter 27

  Richard goes back to Nathan and Lucy’s house that night, because it hurts him too much to be with me. I’ll go to Mum’s flat straight after work tomorrow. Richard has asked me not to call him for a couple of days. I tell Mum I’ll fill her in when I get there because I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. I still don’t know if I’ll tell her the whole truth.

  She’s at work when I arrive the following evening. I have my old key from when I lived there so I let myself in. My bedroom is cold, damp and dark. I’ve barely eaten in days and I can’t face making anything for myself now. That’s even presuming there’s anything in the fridge because, knowing my mum, it’ll be as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.

  She comes home just after eleven to find me dozing, fully dressed, on my single bed. I wrestle my eyes open to see her looking down at me, still kitted-out in her restaurant manager’s uniform of black trousers and a tight-fitting black shirt. She looks tired.

  ‘Do you want me to get you anything?’ she asks.

  I shake my head blearily.

  ‘A cup of tea?’

  ‘No. Just sleep.’

  ‘Will you get ready for bed?’ she tries.

  ‘No,’ I murmur.

  ‘Okay, honey.’ She closes the door quietly behind her.

  In the morning she’s dead to the world. I don’t feel like talking anyway, so I patch up my bloated face and red-rimmed eyes as best as I can and go into work. The journey takes longer than I thought it would, so even though I leave early, I end up arriving a few minutes late. I rush past reception, mouthing to Nicola and Mel that I’ll talk to them later. I get an email soon after I sit at my desk.

  Lunch? Mel writes. I heard a rumour there was leek and potato on today.

  I manage a wry smile as I type back my assent.

  Nicola has to man the desk so it’s just Mel and me. We wander to the soup kitchen and pick up some takeaway before heading to a nearby square, where I fill Mel in on the latest.

  ‘Have you seen Ben?’ she asks.

  ‘No. Richard doesn’t want me to.’

  ‘And you’re going to abide by that?’

  ‘Yes. It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘Blimey. You’re a better woman than I am.’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking, aren’t you? I feel like the worst person in the world.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What do you mean why?’ I laugh in outrage.

  ‘You only fell in love, Lily. It’s not like you could help it.’

  I pause for a moment and think about this before realising that that philosophy comes nowhere near to letting me off the hook. ‘Yes, but I should have told Richard about Ben from the beginning. And vice versa. I deceived them both.’

  ‘I think you played it the only way you could have,’ she says seriously. ‘Like you said, what if you had built Ben up to be someone he wasn’t? You would have been able to draw a line under the whole thing and move on to have a perfectly content life with Richard. And Richard would have been none the wiser, but a hell of a lot happier. Sometimes honesty isn’t the best policy.’

  ‘But the way things have turned out – it’s all such a mess. Anyway, enough about me. Fill me in on the latest with Mr Horn.’

  She puts her hand on my arm and gives me a sympathetic smile before she allows me to change the subject. ‘It’ll be okay,’ she promises. ‘It will all work out for the best.’

  My mum is there when I get back to her place that evening and despite our often-volatile relationship, I’m glad not to be walking into a dark flat again.

  ‘Hello,’ she greets me, coming through from the kitchen.

  ‘Hi,’ I reply. ‘I wasn’t sure if you were working tonight.’

  ‘I did the lunchtime shift,’ she replies. ‘And then rushed back here to cook you dinner.’

  ‘Seriously? What are we having?’

  She beams. ‘Chicken in a cream and white wine sauce with new potatoes and veggies.’

  ‘That sounds amazing.’ It seems I have my appetite back.

  ‘I thought you’d like it.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ She checks her watch as I slump onto the sofa.

  ‘What do you want to drink? I’ve opened up a bottle of white.’

  I smile gratefully. ‘That would be nice.’

  ‘Back in a tick.’

  I slip out of my heels and put my feet up on the coffee table, closing my eyes for a moment. They sting from stress and lack of sleep. Mum comes through a minute later with two wine glasses and passes one over.

  ‘Feet on the table,’ she tuts.

  ‘Sorry.’ I take them down again. She never used to mind.

  ‘How was your dad’s visit?’ she asks, perching on the second, smaller sofa to my right.

  ‘Fine. It was good. The girls have grown so much.’

  ‘I bet they have. And Lorraine, how is she?’ Her voice naturally becomes more forced when she asks after my dad’s wife.

  ‘She’s fine. She’s still the same.’

  ‘Well, that’s good,’ she says abruptly. ‘And what about you? Are you okay?’

  I shake my head slightly. ‘Not really, no, Mum.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what this is all about?’

  I sigh and lean forward to put my glass on the table. I haven’t taken a sip yet. ‘I needed some time alone,’ I reply eventually.

  ‘From Richard? W
hy?’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to get married to him,’ I say with difficulty.

  ‘Really?’ she gasps, putting her hand over her mouth. ‘Why not? Has he done something to hurt you?’

  ‘No, of course not, Mum. It’s me. I . . . have feelings for someone else.’

  ‘Oh, Lily,’ she replies with disappointment. ‘How could you let that happen?’

  ‘How could I let that happen?’ I ask with incredulity. ‘I didn’t mean to fall in love with two men!’

  ‘No, okay,’ she placates me, ‘of course you didn’t. So who is he? How did you meet him?’

  ‘I met him years ago.’ I avoid the first question. ‘Sorry, I don’t really feel like talking about this now.’

  She stares at me for a moment before checking her watch again and going back through to the kitchen. There’s a knock at the door. Mum rushes through from the kitchen. ‘He’s early.’

  ‘Who’s early?’ I sit up in my seat as she wavers between coming my way or going to the door.

  ‘I wanted you to meet someone.’ I recognise this look in her eye. Pleading . . .

  ‘What?’ I sit up straighter.

  ‘Please, Lily, it’s someone who’s been on the cards for some time.’

  ‘Tell me you’re joking,’ I say deadpan. ‘I come here for some . . . solace . . . and you expect me to socialise with the latest shag in your life?’

  The jaunty little knock comes again, albeit this time more insistently.

  ‘He’s important,’ she hisses desperately as she turns towards the door.

  ‘They’re ALL important!’ I get to my feet angrily. ‘I can’t believe you can be so selfish.’

  ‘Please,’ she begs. ‘He’ll hear you.’

  She swings open the door to reveal a middle-aged, heavy-set, olive-skinned man beaming widely in the doorway.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ Mum urges, plastering her happy smile all over her face. ‘This is my daughter, Lily.’

  I don’t know how, but I manage not to storm out of the room into my bedroom and slam the door like a teenager.

  ‘Hello.’ I don’t manage a smile, however.

  ‘Aah, this is your daughter.’ He has an Italian accent, I notice, as he bursts into the room and gives me a huge smackeroonie on each cheek. My mum smiles nervously while I glare at her over his shoulder.

  ‘And this is Antonio,’ Mum says.

  ‘I so glad to finally meet you,’ he cries.

  I wish I could express the same sentiment.

  ‘Dinner’s almost ready,’ Mum says jollily. ‘What can I get you to drink? White wine?’

  ‘Sí, sí, perfetto!’

  Mum emerges in record time with Antonio’s glass of wine. She’s clearly unsure about what trouble I might cause in her absence. ‘Take a seat at the table, my love.’ I realise she’s talking to him, not me. Now I understand why I’m getting a home-cooked meal. And to think I thought she was looking out for me for a change.

  ‘Lily works in publishing,’ Mum tells Antonio, ushering me to the table.

  No. I can’t do this. I cannot do small talk tonight.

  ‘Do you?’ Antonio asks with interest as he sits down. Suddenly I feel as stubborn as a mule. My mum gives me a little push, but my feet are going nowhere.

  ‘Lily, take a seat,’ she urges brightly.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Lily,’ she warns.

  ‘I’m not hungry any more.’

  Mum laughs a nervous laugh and looks at Antonio. ‘She’s not feeling very well.’

  And with that, I’m out of there. I go into my bedroom and shut the door firmly, wishing with all my heart that it had a lock. I switch off the light and lie down on the bed, covering my face with my arms. I’m almost too tired to think.

  It’s a good twenty minutes before my mum comes to check on me.

  ‘Please come out, darling.’

  I don’t bother to answer.

  ‘Do you want me to bring you some food in here?’

  Again, silence.

  She leaves me to it after that.

  I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling in the darkness. The realisation hits me: Ben. I want to talk to Ben.

  Richard knows my mum. He’s met her on several occasions. Ben has met her just the once, but for some reason it’s him I want to tell about her behaviour tonight. Out of the blue I remember the box in my cupboard. I leap onto the bed and pull it down, rifling through it like a madwoman as I feel, more than see, Ben’s light-blue shirt at the bottom. I want to talk to him. I want to see him. I want him to hold me in his arms and tell me it will all be alright. I want to call him. Where’s my mobile phone?

  I look over the side of the bed for my bag. It’s not there. I realise at once that I’ve left it in the living room, and the thought of going out there and interrupting my mum and Antonio’s cosy little soirée makes me hesitate.

  And then I think of Richard. Of our house. Of our friends. I’m not sure I’m ready to let go of all of that yet. I sink back on the bed and hug Ben’s shirt tightly. My mum finds me like that an hour and a half later.

  ‘Antonio’s gone home,’ she says curtly.

  If she’s expecting me to apologise, she’s out of her frigging mind.

  ‘He didn’t want to stay with the atmosphere.’

  ‘ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?’ Is that me screaming? ‘WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? YOU’RE NOT MY MOTHER! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!’

  White rage fills my head and I start to hyperventilate. I stare at my mum’s shocked face, surreally aware of how demonic I must look. For once she’s rendered completely and utterly speechless.

  ‘GET OUT!’ I scream again, and when she doesn’t move, I leap off the bed and shove at her wildly. ‘GET OUT!’ I slam the door in her face and collapse back on the bed, pulling at my hair with my hands and letting out an almighty wail like a banshee. Eventually the pain brings tears to my eyes and my senses return. And then I’m filled with an overbearing sadness. My mother stays away, even though my sobs must ricochet through the whole flat.

  When I eventually quieten down after a very long time, she tries again, and this time neither of us says anything. She sits on the bed and strokes my hair as tears slide down my cheeks and soak into my pillow.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers eventually. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  I don’t let go of Ben’s shirt and I see her look at it curiously, but she’s smart enough to stick to her apology and leave it at that. I’m asleep before she leaves the room.

  Chapter 28

  It takes superhuman strength, but I somehow make it through the week at Marbles, and before I leave, Jonathan promises to keep me posted about the editorial assistant position. It’s a relief to think I may get a permanent job at last – but it’s hard to get excited about anything at the moment.

  I haven’t spoken to Richard since he left to stay at Nathan and Lucy’s on Tuesday night and even though it was him who asked me not to call, I find I’m strangely unwilling to anyway. I think I at least need the weekend on my own to mull things over.

  My mum always works on Friday and Saturday nights so I’m surprised to find her at home. The flat smells of spaghetti Bolognese and for a moment I’m suspicious.

  ‘He’s not coming over,’ she quickly assures me. ‘It’s just you and me.’

  I nod and go to the sofa, kicking off my shoes as I go. ‘I thought you worked on Friday nights.’

  ‘I changed my shift.’ She disappears into the kitchen and comes back a minute later with a glass of white wine. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, perching on the arm of my sofa. ‘I was wrong to do that to you last night. It had been arranged for a few days and I convinced myself I didn’t need to cancel. But you’re right. I was being selfish. As usual.’ She hands over the glass and I accept her peace-offering. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’ She gets up again. ‘I’m doing garlic bread and everything!’

  We sit outside on the small balcony because it’s a surprisingly balmy nig
ht for May in Sydney. We balance our plates on our knees and eat in silence. I’m the one who breaks it.

  ‘Who is he, this Antonio?’

  ‘He owns the restaurant,’ she replies. ‘We don’t have to talk about me,’ she adds.

  ‘No, I want to. So he owns the restaurant? You’ve known him for a while, then.’

  ‘Yes, but it was six months before we discovered we had feelings for each other.’

  ‘Last time I saw you . . .’

  ‘We’d just got together,’ she interrupts. ‘I didn’t know where it was going.’

  ‘But it’s going well now?’

  ‘He’s asked me to marry him.’

  I stare at her in shock. She’s smiling timidly. ‘And you’re not running for the hills?’ I check.

  She shakes her head. ‘Not this time, no.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I’ve said yes.’

  I put down my fork on my plate and study her face. All her vital signs appear normal. She doesn’t seem deranged. ‘Blimey. I guess congratulations are in order.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she breathes.

  ‘Where’s your ring?’ I’m being childish because she said this to me so I’m surprised when she places her plate on the tiny table and goes inside. She returns a moment later with an old ring box. She hands it over and I open it to see an antique gold ring inside with an intricate design surrounding a red ruby.

  ‘What, no diamonds?’ I can’t help but say.

  ‘It was his mother’s,’ my mum explains. ‘I need to get it re-sized.’

  I’m in shock. What’s got into her? Antonio, clearly.

  ‘I’m happy for you,’ I say, and find that I mean it, even though I’m still very confused about what this Antonio has over all the men before him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I didn’t want to tell you like this when I know you’re going through a tough time.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘So fill me in on what’s been happening.’

  I sigh and look away. Oh, what the hell. ‘Promise not to be judgemental?’