by Nancy Barone
‘Doctor? I don’t need a doctor. I’m not sick.’
He checked her blood pressure, which was fine, all things considered.
‘I can’t believe you left your sick mother,’ Neil said hotly.
‘I didn’t leave her alone, you know.’
‘Yeah – I do know. Sarah called me – her father, absolutely terrified because her grandmother had disappeared into thin air. I told you she’d be loopy and to keep an eye on her!’
‘Please lower your voice. I have enough problems and I don’t need you on my back as well.’
‘Problems? Wining and dining your toy boy is now a problem?’
‘He’s not my toy boy, Neil.’
‘That’s enough, Neil, not in front of the ladies,’ Connor said quietly but firmly. Neil ignored him.
‘Not your toy boy? Half of my colleagues are snickering behind my back about this.’
‘I knew it was about you, Neil. It always was.’
Connor cut in again. ‘Neil, I’m really not at my most patient right now, so I suggest you cut her some slack and go home.’
Neil turned around to face Connor, whose gaze had hardened. ‘Are you suggesting I leave my own home?’ He challenged.
‘You don’t live here anymore. You’re only upsetting everybody and it’s the last thing they need.’
Neil snorted and turned to me. ‘Do you really believe that a man his age could actually be interested in you? Because if you do, you’re beyond sick in the head. And perhaps you’re not the right person to be taking care of your mum. You need help.’
‘That’s it, we’re done here,’ Connor said, taking Neil firmly by the arm and frogmarching him out of the house.
‘You’re absolutely right about that,’ I snapped after him and, after giving her one of her sleeping pills, I put my mother to bed and decided to face the last piece of the problem. So I went out to the garden for some privacy. It was a little less warm than it had been lately, and I welcomed the late summer winds to cool me down. I dialled Yolanda’s number and she answered immediately.
‘Hi, Nat, how are things?’
Oh, just peachy, I wanted to say. Apart from trying to seduce our lodger, running away from home wearing nothing but her smalls and slippers, Mum is driving me absolutely bonkers. But I swallowed down my sarcasm. There were better ways to catch honey or whatever the saying was.
‘Nat? What is it?’
I sighed. ‘Mum’s becoming more and more difficult, and she’s not getting any better, Yola. She’s losing it more and more and today she even took off on me.’
‘Where?’
I groaned inwardly. ‘Halfway down the road into Wyllow Cove.’
‘You lost our mother? What the hell, Nat! What if she’d gone the wrong way and taken the coastal path above the cove? She’d have fallen to her death!’
I couldn’t even contemplate that scenario. But she did have a point, of course.
‘I can’t bloody believe you would let her out of your sight!’
There was no point in dragging Sarah into it. All she’d done was tried to help.
‘And I don’t understand. First you tell me she can barely walk and now she’s so fast you turn around and she’s gone? What were you doing at the time, Nat? Screwing your tenant?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You heard. You’re so obsessed with this bloke, it’s all you ever think about!’
‘Funny, seeing as all I ever manage to think about is taking care of your daughters. And instead of giving me grief, why don’t you come home, put your career on the backburner for your own kids – God knows you can afford it – and while you’re at it, give me some help. She’s your mother too. You do remember that?’
‘Nat! I told you this show was important for me.’
‘Yes, you told me. A million times. One more gig, one more book, one more year. But the fact is, my dear Yolanda, that your girls spend more time with me than with you – I’m surprised they don’t call me Mum instead.’
She huffed. ‘Look, Nat – I’m sorry. This will be the last show for a while. And then I can stay home a whole year while I write my next book. I just need to depend on you right now, okay?’
I wanted to growl that it was not okay, that she needed to get her act together. ‘You know I love your girls as if they were mine. But you are who they need.’
Another huff. ‘I know. I’ll do my best. Just give me until the New Year. And then I’ll come home. With a gazillion presents. I promise.’
‘What about Mum?’
She groaned. ‘I’m sorry, but just what do you want me to do?’
‘Agree to get her a part-time carer. At least when I can’t be there.’
‘A carer? You never know who you bring into the house that way. I’m already not happy with you exposing my girls to some stranger, no matter how good-looking he is.’
‘I never told you he was good-looking.’
She huffed. ‘I had a chat with Lizzie and Sarah, okay?’
‘About Connor? What the hell for?’
‘I just wanted to make sure you weren’t being reckless.’
‘Reckless? Me? Have I not always been the one with her head on her shoulders? Have I not always been the one to pull you out of trouble every time you went and did something stupid? And now you have the cheek to call me reckless?’
‘Don’t say that, Nat. I was just worried about you. After your divorce from Neil, I just worried that you might be lonely, or drifting.’
‘Drifting? I have never been so focused or happy in my entire life!’ I hollered down the phone. ‘And Connor has never been part of my plans, no matter what everybody seems to think!’ And for the first time ever, I hung up on her. The gall! Only she could rile me like that.
I sat in silence, listening to my thumping heart and my heavily sedated mother snoring without a care in the world, as if she hadn’t just been roaming around the village in her smalls. Well, at least the disease spared her the humiliation of realising what she’d done.
A minute later, Lizzie dialled my mobile. ‘Mum! Sarah told me – how is Nana?’
‘She’s fine, sweetheart. Just a little frazzled. Sarah needn’t have disturbed you.’
‘Are you kidding me? She was frantic. I was just about to drive down when she called me back. She said that Nana has completely lost the plot now? Is that true, Mum?’
That was one way of putting it.
‘I’m afraid her disease is progressing, my darling. The medication doesn’t always work. Some days she’s well, and others she’s not.’
‘Mum? Is she going to be all right?’
I sighed. ‘For now, pet. But she will progressively get worse.’
‘It’s so strange to see her like this,’ Lizzie observed. ‘Nana isn’t Nana unless she’s in control, right?’
‘Yes, love.’ That was true, as far as her granddaughters were concerned. To me, she had been nothing but scathing. The fact that she had become nice to me was lovely, on one hand, but on the other, it actually worried me, because it meant that she wasn’t herself.
And now her Wandering Ulysses complex was becoming worse and worse. To not find her in the same room was already disconcerting. To find her at the end of the garden, reaching for the gate was even worse, but to think that actual harm could have befallen her sent shivers of terror down my spine.
*
Later that evening, twins and Mum sorted, I removed myself from the kitchen where Connor lingered. Better to stay away from him for the moment until I got a grip on my own emotions.
As I was settling down into bed anticipating a lovely quiet evening with my new Milly Johnson and a nice cup of hot chocolate, I became aware of a scratching sound. She did this, now, as she was falling asleep. She’d run her nails over the ribbed headboard and it was extremely unsettling, like someone breathing raggedly.
After Mum had done a runner, I was now suspicious of every time she turned in her bed, and the baby monitor, which was supposed
to have made my life easier, actually made it even harder, because every time she moved or moaned, it kept me from falling asleep and sometimes even jolted me awake.
Every little move she made I was aware. When she coughed, the sound would bounce out of the monitor and onto my walls. When she began to breathe evenly, I knew she was falling asleep. When she began to snore, I could finally surrender to my own rest, knowing that she wouldn’t be going anywhere for a few hours. But then she’d suddenly stop breathing and the reptilian or mothering part of my brain would alert me to the fact that all was not as it should be, and was she still breathing? Or was she silently suffocating in the study downstairs? And that would send me flying down the staircase in a panic and throw the door open, only to watch as she turned on her side and started snoring all over again. I had become, in effect, her mother.
*
As I was cooking the kids’ favourite dish for dinner, Connor got in.
‘Hi!’ he chirped as he came in through to the kitchen. ‘Ooh, lasagne, one of my favourite things in the whole world!’
‘Good,’ I said.
He gave me one of his knicker-melting grins. ‘Apart from you, obviously. I’m particularly a fan of yours…’
And with that, he leaned in to kiss my cheek.
‘No!’ I said, moving away from him. ‘You don’t get to do this – it’s not right.’
‘Do what?’ he said.
‘Play these games. One day you seem interested in me and the next—’
And with that, he put his hand under my chin, taking me by complete surprise. It was the first time since we had almost had sex that he had come anywhere near me, and I had missed him. I’d missed the smiles that had only been for me. I had missed him being so close that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. And I certainly wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to.
‘Nat…?’ he whispered. ‘Do you trust me at all?’
I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see him. Damn me, and this attraction I had for him. ‘Open your eyes, Nat.’
I did as I was told and saw the most solemn expression I had ever seen on his face.
‘If I confused you that night, I’m sorry, but I’ve got other things going on and I didn’t want to get you mixed up in them. But please believe me when I say that I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. Do you believe me?’
Did I believe him? ‘Yes.’
‘Thank you. I will tell you everything as soon as I can, okay?’
Unable to speak, I nodded.
*
The next day Yolanda video-called me. ‘Hullo, how are things?’
‘Good,’ I answered.
‘How’s Mum?’
‘The same, really.’
‘Right.’
‘And how are the recordings of your new show going?’
‘Absolutely great. Do you want to know the title we’ve picked?’
‘Ooh, of course I do. What is it?’ I asked, happy for the distraction.
She flipped her dark mane from one shoulder to the other and flashed me one of her famous television smiles. ‘Simple – That’s Amore!’
I baulked. ‘What? You can’t use that – that’s the name of my column!’
She frowned. ‘Is it?’
‘You know it is.’
‘No matter,’ she said. ‘They’re two completely different things.’
‘It actually does matter, Yolanda. I don’t want to be mixed up with you.’
She snorted. ‘Trust me, you won’t be. You only have a small picture for your column – no one really cares who you are.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘I only meant to say that people don’t really care who the writer is. They just read the column and that’s that.’
‘Actually, I’m pretty well known too. Just because I’m not on television doesn’t mean I don’t count.’
‘Jealous much?’
‘Yolanda, are you really talking down to me again? I thought we’d sorted this out years ago.’
She huffed. ‘Look, I understand it’s your surname too, but I need it more than you.’
‘How so?’
‘Because my show is about Italian cooking!’
‘And my column is about life and love, if you’d ever cared to read it.’
‘I have read it. Once or twice.’
Only she – and Mum – managed to make me feel this way. I huffed in exasperation. ‘Jesus, Yola…’
‘Can I help it if I don’t have time? If it’s any consolation, I’ve heard it’s really good.’
‘Just – let’s move on, okay?’
She shrugged. ‘Okay. What else did you want to talk to me about?’
‘Uh, your arrangements with the girls?’
‘What do you mean? I thought you said they could stay. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?’
‘No, I haven’t changed my mind, but don’t you think we – and by “we” I am including them – don’t you think we should know what your plans are? Will you actually be here for Christmas, or are you just going to send another parcel like you did for their birthday?’
‘I don’t like the judgement in your voice, Natalia.’
‘Well I’m sorry if my thoughts permeate my tone, Yolanda. They’re your girls; when are you going to start taking responsibility for them?’
She took a long slug of her drink, but only after adding, ‘You should be grateful for the time with them, seeing as you’re an empty-nester now, husband included.’
‘I am grateful for the time with… What did you just say?’
She kept her face hidden in her glass while looking straight at me. It was the trick we used to use as kids with Mum. We’d tell a blatant lie and act indifferently about it, having figured out we had a better chance of being believed that way. Only becoming a mother had taught me that it didn’t work. Yola, on the other hand, had not yet tallied up enough mothering hours yet to have cracked that arcane trick.
She shrugged. ‘I’m simply saying that you have more time on your hands because you work from the comfort of your own home. Look at me – I’m always flying off to another country. I have no schedule or routine, and my girls have that now, thanks to you.’
I wanted to counter that she could actually hire a nanny and take them with her while home-schooling them, but that would have meant me not seeing them growing up, so I shut up, the whole purpose of my argument now a moot point.
‘In any case, I’ll be home after Christmas. I have to shoot a Christmas special. The flight is so long it barely warrants the time and effort to go and come back.’
‘Not even to see your daughters?’
‘Come on, Nat, you’re laying it on thick. Do you think I actually like this life?’
I studied her face on the screen. She hadn’t changed since we were kids. She had always been selfish and restless, and flighty. Much more adventurous and fearless than myself. This was the life that fit her like a glove. The lifestyle she craved – minimal responsibilities, her every need catered for, and in the spotlight at all times. Amy and Zoe were just pretty little accessories to her. Loved ones, granted, but more a thing to boast about than to care about.
‘Yes, Yola, I actually think you do.’
She shook her head. ‘Why is it that you are always ready to judge me? Even when I started this job, you raised your eyebrows!’
‘Because you didn’t understand how much quality time with your girls it would rob you of. You don’t act like they’re a priority, but a burden. That’s not motherhood. Being a mother means putting your kids first. Always. Why can’t you understand that?’
She stared at me as if I’d slapped her. ‘If I had done that, I wouldn’t be the celebrity I am today. I can afford anything I want, for myself and my girls – even a trip around the world. Can you say the same? No, because you settled with a silly magazine job. Easy to do, when your doctor husband brings home the bacon.’
‘Have you thought that maybe before a trip around the world, your daughter
s need to know that their mother hasn’t abandoned them, and that she loves them?’
‘I tell them that all the time,’ she protested.
‘Do you, Yola? Because when I read them a bedtime story, I have to screen the ones mentioning mums, which only trigger questions and self-doubt. No matter how many times I tell them that you love them and that you’re working hard for them, I see that it’s just not enough.’
Yolanda groaned and bit her lip. If I knew she was capable of guilt, I’d believe her acting antics. But no one knew Yolanda as well as I did.
‘Right. I said I was sorry. So, are you okay with keeping them?’
‘I am. But if you’re going to break their hearts again, I’d rather you did it yourself this time,’ I said. And before she could object, I called them. ‘Amy, Zoe! It’s Mummy on video chat, come!’
The answer was a loud slam of the door, followed by the thundering of footsteps on the stairs. How the heck could two eight-year-olds make all that noise with their tiny feet? But mine had been no better.
‘Mummy, Mummy!’ Zoe cried, sliding to a halt before my desk.
‘Mum, what the hell, why haven’t you called?’ Amy debuted.
I sighed. That was the twins for you, so different, and yet both so fragile. Amy could put up as many shields as she wanted, but I could tell by the look on her flushed face that she was overwhelmed with joy.
‘Darlings!’ Yolanda called, covering her mouth in awe. ‘Look at you, you’ve grown so much!’
So I left them to it.
*
The next Saturday morning when I came downstairs, Connor was on the patio doing French braids for the girls before their football game.
‘You don’t have to do that, Connor – let me,’ I said, taking the comb from his hands.
Connor stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘I don’t mind. I’m used to looking after my nieces.’
‘He’s as gentle as you, Auntie Nat,’ Zoe assured me.
I turned around and smiled at him despite myself. ‘Is there anything that you can’t do?’
‘What? Oh…’ He laughed. ‘Yeah, lots. But, most importantly, I can make you smile.’
I smiled again and patted Zoe’s rump. ‘Done. Off you go, darling. Get your things and don’t be long.’
