by Nancy Barone
‘What if I sent you some money for Mum’s upkeep?’ she suggested. ‘It’s only fair – you’re doing everything on your own.’
If anything, and knowing my situation from the start, she should have at least asked if I was okay with the expenses for her own girls, seeing as she was a millionaire and I only had my column, if even that now.
Not that I would have accepted any money from her, otherwise. I had my dignity and was happy to take care of my nieces when their mother was away. We’d been doing it for years. But not once had the thought even crossed her mind, just like a thank you had never crossed her lips. She’d bustle in, kids in tow, telling me how harried and stressed she was, and would I be a darling and take them? It was all about her and her career and her schedule and her flights and her brilliant life. To her mind, I should have been happy basking in the reflected light of her glory.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m still very proud of Yolanda, as, brought up by our mother, it was no surprise we achieved our goals in life. I had been the one to teach her how to cook, truth be told, and I’d got her interested enough to go to cooking school. I had been there for her since we were kids when all Mum did was order me around while doting on the ‘little one’ who was still too young to know what she wanted to do with her life. I had been the one to actually support Yolanda’s choice. But that had been lost in the sands of time, along with every other good deed of mine.
But private specialists for my mother were a cost I couldn’t face on my own. Besides, she was Yolanda’s mother, too.
‘If you wouldn’t mind?’ I said. ‘Because actually, I don’t even have her PINs to access her own money. Plus, I don’t think she even knows where her bank card is or how to use it, to be honest. She likes to go in there and chat with the tellers. But now that you mention it, I’m going to have to sort it out, and also do a direct debit for her utility bills.’
‘Right.’
‘In any case,’ I continued, ‘I’m going to speak to a lawyer first. I have no idea how these things work, but I suspect that in order to be her executor, I’ll have to get a certificate or report of some sort from Mum’s doctor. And then we’ll see what’s what. Naturally I’ll keep you posted and cc you in on everything, so you should probably open a folder in your email account.’
‘You’re going to have her declared incapacitated?’ Yolanda shrieked. ‘You can’t do that to her! She’s our mother!’
I bristled. ‘I’m not doing anything of the sort, Yola. I want to understand how to better serve her. Somebody’s got to take care of her, and unless you can get Scotty or someone else to beam you back here this very moment, it’s going to have to be me.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Nat. I’ll buy you out of your share of the cottage,’ she snapped.
‘What?’ Damn. There had been nothing I had wanted more than to buy Lavender Cottage for myself, and now she wanted to buy the house next door? I had never factored in Yolanda buying Mum’s place and thus becoming my neighbour. ‘But you have your villa on the clifftops. What would you do with an old cottage?’
‘Oh, probably renovate it and turn the entire ground floor into a set for my next cooking show. You know, Yolanda’s Little Cottage Dream or something like that. People are gaga for everything small. Why on earth, I don’t know, when you could have a million-pound home.’
As she did. Mine didn’t count, as I was having to sell it because I couldn’t afford its upkeep. And I was one of those people she ridiculed, because I wasn’t particularly ambitious.
I was happy with something more me-sized. I actually wanted a smaller life. Lavender Cottage would surround me with its history and the warmth of my better childhood memories. I would renovate it and make the master bedroom my sanctuary, maybe even put in a roll-top bath by the window where I could look out to sea while I had a leisurely soak.
‘Besides,’ Yolanda said, ‘the crew could slum it upstairs.’
There was no way I was going to live next door to a set, what with all the coming and going and vans and bright lights and stuff. Could you imagine me trying to squirrel myself away in Lavender Cottage next door to write with her mob around twenty-four seven? And once again, it was looking like her decisions trumped mine.
‘Why don’t you find another place?’ I asked, but then bit my lip. She would misunderstand as usual.
She snorted. ‘Why, do you want it?’
‘Maybe,’ I bluffed. ‘As soon as I sell my place.’ Come on, Nat. Tell her the truth.
‘Send all the paperwork to my lawyer. He’ll sort it out. I have to go now.’
‘Yolanda, wait…’
‘What?’
I cleared my throat. Sometimes it was like she was Amy and I was Zoe. ‘If we’re going to put her house on the market, I don’t want you to buy it because I want to buy Lavender Cottage next door and I don’t think that a TV crew would be my ideal neighbours.’
‘You want to buy Mrs Pendennis’s old home? With what money, exactly?’
‘I told you, I’m selling The Mausoleum.’
She snickered. ‘Are you? And where is Sarah going to sleep? And Lizzie, when she splits up with Liam?’
I gasped. ‘That is a horrible thing to say!’
‘Nat – don’t you get it? The Amore girls are all cursed in love – so much for the promising surname.’
‘We are not cursed!’ I shot back.
‘No? Look at us. Look at Mum – Dad died while she was still a young woman. And you? Neil treated you like shit since the day you met. And Sarah, whatever’s happened to her, I’m sure Sam hasn’t been back to whisk her away. And me? Piers couldn’t give a flying—’
‘I get it,’ I said. ‘The Amore women are unlucky in love. Well, maybe I don’t believe that. Look at Lizzie. She and Liam are like two peas in a pod.’
She snorted. ‘Until they won’t be.’
‘I believe in love,’ I insisted. ‘Maybe it won’t come my way, but there is so much of it around, Yola…’
‘You really do live in la-la land, don’t you, Nat? Do you really think that we’re all going to fall in love again and be happily ever after?’
‘I do. And besides, don’t you and Bill—?’
She cackled. ‘You crack me up, Nat. Truly, you do. Right, gotta go. We’ll talk about the cottage next time.’
‘Don’t you want to speak to Mum?’
‘I’ve just said I’ve got to go. Give her a hug from me, and give my girls a kiss,’ she said hastily and hung up before I could take my next breath.
As always, my call to my younger sister left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Would there ever be a time when we got on, when she didn’t have to belittle me or show off or simply hide her fears behind her successes?
I looked up to see Connor making his way up the garden, bending slightly to wipe his face with his T-shirt. ‘I’m done for today. You okay there?’ he asked as he washed his hands under the garden tap.
I shrugged. ‘My sister. She’s being very uncooperative.’
‘Yeah? Why’s that?’
I explained it to him and he pursed his lips. ‘That’s not fair, with you doing all the hard work and her getting the power. Sorry, I didn’t mean to meddle.’
‘No, you’re absolutely right. She’s always been like that but now I’ve had enough. What does she know about Mum’s needs anyway? She doesn’t know anything about her anymore.’
Connor nodded. ‘No, you are definitely the right choice for Beryl. Listen, I’m only corporate law, but I have a few mates who are in family law. Do you want me to ask?’
‘No, that’s okay. I’ll figure this out somehow.’
He studied me. ‘Tell you what. I’m going upstairs for a quick shower, and when I come back down I’m going to cook you a nice dinner. How’s that?’
‘Oh – you don’t have to do that, Connor…’
‘I want to,’ he replied. ‘You just relax, pour yourself a drink and I’ll be right back.’
Could you have said no? Exactly.
*
For dinner, Sarah had taken a tray up to her room. She worked practically every evening these days, bent as she was on getting her promotion. She spent more time barking orders into her phone than receiving them, which boded well, and I could only be proud of the determination she was showing. It seemed that we were all changing – except for Amy.
‘Amy, sweetie, leave your sister’s ears alone and eat your food,’ Connor said as she made an attempt to shove a piece of shepherd’s pie into Zoe’s ear as Zoe swatted her sister’s hand away. Only a few weeks ago Zoe would have buckled, but she was, thankfully, developing a sense of strength that I never knew she had.
From upstairs, we could hear Sarah shout, ‘Just get to work – now!’
‘She’s gonna become her boss’s superior if she keeps this up,’ Connor said with a chuckle, reading my mind.
I grinned. ‘She’s bound to. I don’t know anyone as strong and determined as her.’
He put his fork down, his eyes caressing my face. ‘You don’t? I do.’
‘Oh, well, I uhm…’ My cheeks burning under his gaze, I whipped to my feet and brought out the apple pie I’d bought from Dora’s.
‘Come on, girls, finish your dessert, then get ready for bed.’ I couldn’t have them witnessing their Auntie Nat blushing at Connor’s compliments.
‘Can Uncle Connor tuck us in?’ Zoe asked, her eyes swinging to his. Which in turn swung to mine with the message I don’t know where she got Uncle from, but I like it.
‘Of course, if that’s what you want,’ I said. Uncle Connor. It was safe to say that he was definitely one of us now. I only hoped they wouldn’t suffer too much when he went back to Ireland.
‘Come, then, Uncle Connor, Auntie Nat,’ Zoe urged, pulling both our hands until we stood up. Connor’s eyes twinkled as he grinned at me.
‘Me last,’ Amy ordered as they skipped up the stairs before us. ‘I want to be the last one up!’
‘You’ll be the first one down if you don’t stop bossing people around,’ I warned her, but couldn’t help smiling. Zoe tittered, satisfied, and Connor laughed.
‘Can you read us Little Red Riding Hood, like when we were little?’ Zoe asked me.
‘Goodness, aren’t you too old for that now?’
‘We like the voices!’ Amy said. ‘Uncle Connor, you do the Big Bad Wolf and Auntie Nat can do Little Red Riding Hood.’
‘Or…’ I said with a devilish grin ‘…we can do it the other way around.’
Connor’s face lit up. ‘Sure,’ he said in a wobbly falsetto. ‘I’ll be Little Red Riding Hood!’
‘And I’ll be the Big Bad Wolf!’ I howled.
The girls shrieked with laughter for the entire story, hardly listening to the horrible events unfolding, and just waiting for the spoken parts.
‘This’ll keep ’em up all night,’ Connor commented, rolling his eyes and laughing.
‘All the better to eat you up!’ I roared, pretending to pounce on Connor (not that I hadn’t ever thought of that before) while he pretended to shrink away from me, wailing: ‘Help, someone help me, please!’
‘There’s no hope for you!’ I barked until Zoe sat up to make sure I wasn’t actually taking chunks out of Connor.
He sensed her fear and looked up, caressing her face. ‘Auntie Nat’s good at acting, isn’t she, Zoe?’ he asked.
Swinging her eyes from him to me, she nodded, then exhaled in relief. ‘I knew that you weren’t really killing him, but it looked so real,’ she said as Amy rolled her eyes.
‘Enough. Time to sleep,’ I said, kissing them both. ‘Next time we’ll tell you a happy story, a nice, happy fairy tale about mermaids and tropical islands.’
‘And Connor, too?’ Zoe wanted to know. ‘Will he tell us more stories?’
Connor looked at me, then smiled. ‘For as long as you like, sweetheart.’
‘They are absolutely precious,’ Connor mused as we went down the stairs.
‘And hard work,’ I added. ‘Care for a glass of wine out on the patio?’
He grinned and spread his arms out. ‘Yes, please! I thought you’d never ask!’
I poured what was left of the wine and smiled as I sat down opposite him, facing the length of the garden. The sky was still a luscious lavender colour with hints of orange at the edges, while the opposite end of the sky was a dark, dark blue, almost black.
‘The days are getting longer,’ I mused, raising my glass to my lips.
Connor leaned forward. ‘To longer days,’ he toasted.
‘To longer days,’ I echoed, taking a sip and trying to not think of when he would return to Ireland.
‘Better now?’ he asked.
‘Mmmhh, yes, much better, thank you, Connor. Dinner was fantastic and I truly appreciate not having to do everything on my own.’
‘You’re not alone, Nat,’ he said softly.
My eyes swung to his. I still didn’t understand where we stood. Was I just a friend? Sometimes, like in that moment, when he looked at me with such intensity, I almost thought that there was something between us, and if we only let our barriers down, the wild horses would stampede out of their enclosures and show their true colours. For deep inside, I recognised in him a kindred spirit – a free, more liberated side that was dying to break free.
I took another sip of my wine and looked across the garden he’d so lovingly restored. ‘What an amazing job you’ve done,’ I said.
He followed my gaze. ‘Yes, it’s coming along quite nicely, isn’t it?’
‘Is there anything you can’t do?’ I said with a light chuckle.
He thought about it for a moment. ‘I can’t mend a broken heart.’
‘I bet you could,’ I said without thinking.
His eyes swung to mine. ‘Is your heart mended?’ he asked. ‘Are you completely over Neil?’
I blinked. ‘Absolutely. For years, now.’
‘That’s good,’ he said, slowly turning his glass on itself, completely absorbed by the task.
‘And you?’ I ventured. ‘Are you over your divorce?’
He looked up. ‘Me? Yeah. For years, now, too.’
My heart shook. Easy, Nat. Even if he’s over his wife, that doesn’t mean he’s interested in you.
We spent the next hour or so chatting quietly until we finished the bottle, the tea lights had all died out and there was literally no excuse to keep going.
‘Well, I guess it’s time to hit the sack,’ I said with a nostalgic sigh.
‘Yeah, it’s late,’ he agreed.
‘Well, goodnight, then,’ I whispered, getting up to go inside, but at the same time willing him to ask me to stay a little while longer.
‘Nat…?’ he whispered all of a sudden.
I turned at the door, my heart hammering. Was he finally going to make the first move?
‘Yes?’
He lowered his eyes. ‘Nothing. Sleep well.’
I groaned inwardly. ‘You too, Connor.’
And that was the end of that. One minute he seemed to be really into me and the next, absolutely not. Had I completely misread the signs, the smiles, the caressing tones of his voice? Was it that I had completely mistaken his intentions, and he had no interest in me whatsoever, the one time I decided to finally liberate myself from the shackles of loneliness?
10
The Noughty Boys, Pun Intended
‘You wrote an article about twenty-something heart-throbs disguised as male geeks?’ Octavia barked over the phone a couple of days later. ‘How exactly is that going to fly in a young women’s magazine? Where’s the levity, the flirting, the sex?’
The sex? Excellent question. But lately I was not in a very sexy mood.
‘Dear oh dear, Natalia. If you don’t pull up your socks, we’re going to have to let you go definitively.’
Okay. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea after all. But I’d poured my heart into it. And it was funny, how I’d described them.
‘The new, twenty-someth
ing Clark Kents of the Twenty-twenties? The new Noughty Boys?’ she continued. ‘Good Lord, I’ve never read such dross!’
‘Have you read it to the end?’ I asked. ‘Because it would be nice if you had read it all before criticising it.’
‘I have read it all. It’s absolute rubbish, Natalia.’
My heart sank. ‘Oh.’ Well, that was that, then. I had just botched my last chance of keeping my job, and now that was it. Finito. I was dead. After thirteen years of being the golden girl, I had been put to the door, and I was now mentally packing up my virtual desk – jar of pens, family picture and my stash of Reese’s Pieces. All going offline.
‘I, uhm…’ What could I possibly say or do? Beg for my job back? To what purpose? Octavia Hounslow, or The Hound, as Maggie called her, was seriously bent on getting rid of the dead wood, and making a huge bonfire with it. And she was making no bones about it. She was making a mission of her mission statement.
‘Gotta go, I’ll deal with you later,’ she snapped and hung up on me.
Images of the future flashed before me, where I would have to sell the house and downsize sooner than planned. I would have no choice. It was either that or move to some godforsaken iffy area where meth and violence were the norm. Imagine raising Amy and Zoe in that area. Because, as far as Yolanda was concerned, I was completely on my own in this one. I wouldn’t even have time to sell Smuggler’s Rest, possibly.
And Sarah? She would need a place to stay – there was no way she could ever get on the property ladder on a single income.
And Mum? I could never afford home care, nor would I put her into a home, even the best one. God knew she could afford it with the sale of her house. But I couldn’t even bring myself to consider the option, despite Yolanda’s opinions of me. Sometimes I wondered if she really knew me at all.
Because if she did, she would understand how important it was for me to achieve financial independence and to settle down in a place I had always loved and could call my own. And Lavender Cottage represented that for me. I would have easily settled for Mum’s place if it hadn’t been for the tiny patch of dirt she called the garden. Lavender Cottage, on the other hand, had the magic that Mum’s place lacked. Plus, the brook and the secret garden? No contest. But Yolanda would never be able to understand any of this, and she was definitely not someone I could turn to for help or advice – unless I wanted to lose my dignity as well.
