by Sue Watson
‘Well, you’re upset, I don’t want you going back on your own, I’ll get a taxi back later.’
‘I’ll be fine, Mum, Ben’s… a friend and he’ll… probably pop over later won’t you, Ben?’ Now that Mum had dropped the ‘Dick’ bombshell I needed some thinking time, and an evening of my mother wasn’t going to provide mental sanctuary. Besides, I’d said I’d see Gina later and I didn’t want to tell Mum I was standing her up for the woman she hated second most in the world. More urgently, I had a deep desire to call Dick up and scream vile things loudly down the phone – things a mother should never hear from her daughter’s lips.
‘Oh,’ she said, looking hurt. ‘Well if you’d rather I wasn’t here…’
‘No Mum I didn’t say that…’ There was no point trying to convince her when she wanted to play the martyr. I’d have to put Dick on hold, along with thinking time – and Gina. ‘By the way, Mum, this is Ben Shaw, he’s the family solicitor,’ I said.
‘Oh…’ her face dropped and without smiling she scrutinised him openly. ‘Are you Ronald’s son?’
Ben nodded, ‘You know my dad?’
‘Mmm he was more a friend of my sister. Is he dead yet?’
Ben laughed (thank God) and told her his father was alive and well.
‘He’s not still soliciting, is he? He’s far too old to still be doing that… I bet he’s lost all his marbles.’
‘Mum!’ I gasped, surprised at this outburst, she was getting worse. ‘You’re talking about Ben’s father…’ I started, embarrassed at her outburst. I wasn’t even aware she knew Sophia’s solicitor, but then sometimes I forgot how much history they shared.
‘Oh no your mum’s right, Dad probably should have retired years ago, but as far as I know he’s still got all his marbles, Mrs…’
‘Call me Roberta,’ she said, a glimmer of a smile forming as we both melted in Ben’s easy warmth.
Eventually we said our goodbyes, Mum firmly entrenched in the passenger seat now and ready to come back with me to the apartment. I felt a pang of longing as I watched Ben wander off in my rear-view mirror. I’d just discovered a place where I wasn’t responsible for anyone’s happiness but my own, and now I suddenly felt the weight again. It hadn’t taken long. And on a more superficial note – it occurred to me that having Mum around might just mean an end to mine and Ben’s sex on the stairs.
‘Can’t believe he’s Ronald’s boy,’ Mum was muttering. ‘He’s quite a nice-looking lad, but his father…’
‘I get the feeling you didn’t really like Ben’s dad,’ I said, making this understatement while negotiating a tight bend.
‘I never trusted him, that Ronald… don’t believe anything he tells you, Ella.’
I didn’t answer her. I was wondering why she’d say this. And what it was about Ronald Shaw that upset her so much.
When we arrived at the apartment, Mum seemed to go out of her way to be unimpressed. I showed her round and pointed out the lovely Italian plates and the rugs on the walls. But she stood there tight-lipped, refusing to like any of Sophia’s ornaments or wall hangings, just because they were Sophia’s.
‘Mum, is there something wrong? I know you don’t like me being here – but I love this place, this apartment. Please be happy for me.’
Her face softened slightly; ‘I just want everything to be back to normal, Ella, I’m too old for all this upheaval.’
‘I know Mum, but you have to let me do this. And now, with the house sold I think you’re going to have to join me, at least for a little while until we work out what to do.’
She shrugged and looked away and I went into the kitchen to make coffee, reminding myself that I didn’t need my mother’s approval, but I did need her support. I knew she had her reasons to not want to be here, but as long as she refused to tell me I couldn’t address the problem, so I would just have to keep going and try to make a success out of this summer, while I planned what to do next.
Mum stood at the window gazing out. ‘I used to know the rhythm of the tides as a girl,’ she said, absently. ‘My mum would ask me, “Can we take the van out today, Roberta?” And I’d check in my little diary, it was all written down. Me and Sophia both had our diaries, filled them in every night,’ she was smiling – and I wondered if perhaps the sea was welcoming her home and Appledore was beginning to work its magic.
17
The Prodigal Returns – with Sushi
Later, as the sun went down, we ate pizza and drank citrusy sweet limoncello. We talked about ice cream and I wondered if this lovely sharp drink would make a good ripple through sweet lemon curd ice cream.
‘I’ve been thinking about making cocktail ice creams,’ I said.
‘You can’t let the children have them…’ Mum said, stating the obvious. ‘Just for grown-ups.’
‘Ooh I like that, we could call them Grown-up Ices?’ I said.
‘Adults Only,’ she smiled, ‘and you could put some of that nice chocolate liqueur in ice cream too… ooh and what about amaretto?’
‘Imagine an Italian Sunrise ice cream, made with limoncello and orange juice?’ I said. ‘What a lovely thing to have on a summer’s evening, the sharpness of lemons with the sweet creaminess of the ice cream would be delicious. Did Sophia ever make that?’ I tried, knowing if Sophia was involved Mum wouldn’t want anything to do with that idea.
‘I don’t think Sophia made alcohol ice creams, but our mother made the most delicious chocolate liqueur ice cream with vodka,’ she smiled.
‘That sounds lovely,’ I said, reaching for my notebook to jot the ideas down. ‘Oh Mum, wouldn’t it be wonderful if the café opened again?’
‘Yes, but not with Gina.’
‘She might sell, I’d love to buy or rent it from her – I’m just waiting to hear what she’s going to do. She said she won’t make any decisions without discussing it with me first, and I was thinking that perhaps the house might sell and I could make her an offer with the house money?’
‘Would there be enough money from the house sale?’
‘I don’t know – because even if we managed to sell the house in time I have no idea how much Gina would want for the café.’
‘Yes don’t run before you can walk, love,’ she said.
She then rather astutely moved onto a subject she’d guessed was also on my mind. I think I must have mentioned him quite a lot during the evening.
‘So how well have you got to know Ronald’s son, you seem to like him?’
‘Ben? Oh, he’s lovely, but just a friend… well, he’s a bit more than that, we’re just enjoying time together – nothing heavy.’
‘Are you exclusive?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well… I remember Lucie telling us that her last boyfriend wasn’t, but he didn’t bother telling her.’
I remembered that long weekend, when she dumped him because he thought they’d had an open relationship and didn’t realise they were ‘exclusive’.
‘So he’s only sleeping with you and are you only sleeping with him?’
‘Of course,’ I looked at her incredulously.
‘Has he said you’re exclusive?’
‘He doesn’t need to.’
But suddenly it made me wonder if I’d perhaps been taking too much for granted regarding Ben, I hadn’t actually asked the question, and he might have very different ideas about us.
‘Oh, well you’re a lucky girl, you get him exclusively. And you do a bit of what the kids call “Netflix and chill”, do you?’
‘I don’t have Netflix.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘So what are you saying, Mum. What’s Netflix and chill?’
‘I’m not sure, you made me lose my thread. Look, if you do one thing, Ella, just ignore his father.’
‘Okay, I will Mum,’ I said, reaching out and patting her hand. I didn’t want to get into all that again so I got up and went into the kitchen.
I made coffee from the cappuccino machine, and
Mum said it was like the coffee she used to have when she visited Italy, which was magnificent praise. Encouraged by her admiration for the cappuccino, I thought it might be worth sounding her out about what would happen once the house was sold.
‘The quick house sale has thrown me a bit,’ I started, as I cleared away the coffee things. ‘I’m not sure what to do, but perhaps for now you could come and live here too, Mum?’
She shook her head vigorously. ‘I don’t know… I don’t want to, Ella…’
‘But where else can you go? I don’t want you going back to Manchester and living in a little flat all on your own, Mum.’
She didn’t either, I could tell by her face.
‘It’s just… being here reminds me …’
And in that moment I really thought she was going to spill the beans and tell me why she didn’t want to be here and why she hated her sister.
‘Of Sophia? Does it remind you of…’
‘The past, that’s all. It reminds me of the past and I don’t like to think about it.’
‘You can tell me, Mum, whatever it is, you can tell me…’
‘I can’t…’
‘Yes you can. Mum?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
That was it, she was refusing to say any more and I could see how much it was hurting her, so I had to let it go. Perhaps I had to try and find out the truth myself, perhaps Gina might know?
Later, after I’d called Mum a taxi, I glanced at the clock on the wall surprised to see it was almost eleven o’clock. Then I panicked: in all the madness I’d forgotten that Gina and I were supposed to be meeting for supper. Of course I wouldn’t have been able to with Mum here – but the plan was that Gina would call me – oh God, she must have been calling me all night, I thought, frantically searching for my phone. Eventually I found it under the cushion where I’d been sitting, expecting lots of missed calls and texts. But nothing, Gina hadn’t called. She was probably jet-lagged and had collapsed into bed and would wake up later, horrified that she hadn’t been in touch. I was sure we’d meet up again another day, so it was no big issue.
When Gina hadn’t called by six o’clock the following evening, I decided to check in with her. The phone rang for ages but eventually she picked up sounding groggy and surprised.
‘Oh honey, what can I say… I didn’t call.’
‘It’s okay, Gina, I knew you were probably jet-lagged…’
‘Yeah, I was jet-lagged, exhausted. But let’s do tonight?’
I was about to say that Mum was in town and it might be difficult but then I reminded myself I was a grown-up and I could see whom I liked. I’d tell Gina that Mum was here when we met up, I didn’t want to come over as some simpering mummy’s girl over the phone, so we arranged to meet at the pub at eight and take it from there.
I was just putting the phone down and planning to call it a day when I saw Mum trundling across the beach – with her suitcase. I hoped this didn’t mean…
‘Oh Mum, let me help you with that,’ I called and rushed out of the van to take the heavy case from her. ‘Are you going home?’ I said, I was worried about where she would go. ‘No, I’ve decided I’m going to come and live with you, there’s a spare room and you could do with the company.’
‘Oh, okay,’ I said. I knew this would happen at some point – but had a sneaking suspicion that the reason for her sudden decision had more to do with the fact she thought Gina might beat her to that spare room.
So I packed up the van and we headed back to the apartment together, singing along to Dean Martin’s CD of old Italian songs.
‘Oh it makes me want to go there now, Sorrento, the sparkling sea, Vesuvius covered in clouds. And the lemons, Ella… the lemons…’
‘As big as your head!’ we both said together, laughing.
‘One day we’ll go, Mum, we’ll get into Reginaldo and we’ll set off for Italy.’
‘Ooh I’d love that.’
Once inside the apartment, Mum opened up her overnight bag and produced a bag of fresh pasta, some tomatoes and onions and a bunch of basil. ‘I thought I’d make us a lovely meal tonight, just me and you,’ she said.
I was just working up to how to tell Mum I had already made plans with Gina, when she took out a pan and began boiling water, still singing ‘Volare’ in an Italian accent. She seemed so happy, I hadn’t seen her like this for a while and there was no way I could burst her bubble – so when she went upstairs to unpack I quietly called Gina, explaining Mum was here unexpectedly and that I couldn’t come out and meet her. I suggested we meet the following evening, but Gina wanted to see me that night, and as my mother had often warned me, what Gina wants, Gina gets.
‘Then the mountain shall come to Mohammed,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring supper, I’ll be there about 8.30.’
Before I could say, ‘No please GOD NO,’ she’d put the phone down. I wandered into the kitchen where Mum was now serving up two large plates of pasta and I groaned inwardly.
‘Come on then, get that bottle of wine opened, we shall dine like Italian countesses,’ she said, taking the plates out onto the balcony.
I followed her through with the wine and once seated I took several large gulps, but still couldn’t summon up the courage to tell her Gina was coming over. I didn’t want to upset her or spoil this lovely mother and daughter moment, sipping wine and eating pasta on a beautiful blue evening overlooking the sea.
I almost choked on my linguine when she asked, ‘Are we expecting any guests this evening?’
‘No. Of course not. Why would you think that?’ I said, a little too defensively.
‘Oh, I just wondered,’ she said, sipping slowly from her wine and watching me over her glass.
‘Mum…’ I started, about to tell her.
‘I knew it. I bloody knew it,’ she was smiling. ‘Ben’s coming over, isn’t he? I know you two have a thing going on, I can tell by the way he looks at you.’
That surprised me, ‘Really?’
‘Oh yes… he definitely has a thing for you, love.’
I glowed as she piled up the plates and took them back to the kitchen and then I remembered that I still had to tell her about Gina.
I went upstairs and washed my face, anything to prolong the moment, and when I came downstairs Mum was engrossed in The Apprentice. I wasn’t sure what would annoy her the most, that Gina was coming to see me or that she would arrive before someone was fired.
‘Ella, I don’t like this TV,’ she was saying. ‘It’s not as big as our one at home – I won’t be able to see Lord Sugar’s face when he says “you’re fired!”’ She pointed her finger like a gun, she seemed happy, and I hated all over again that I was about to spoil her evening.
‘It’s an old episode, you’ve seen it before haven’t you?’
‘Yes – but I still enjoy the moment… you’re fired,’ she said in a cockney voice.
‘Mum, I don’t want you to overreact and turn this into a drama… but erm… we’re having a visitor… not Ben.’ I felt like I’d thrown a grenade and was just waiting for it to blow.
She sat up, and tore her eyes away from the TV, ‘Not her?’
‘Yes, Gina’s coming over, to see us,’ I said slowly and calmly. ‘She’s bringing… a snack.’ I don’t know why I felt the need to say this, I just felt that I had to let Mum know that more food was on its way, and there was nothing I could do about it. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, but Gina just offered and I…’
‘Well, just pretend I’m not here. You two carry on and have your snacks,’ (she said the last word with venom, the emphasis being on the s at the beginning and the end as if the snacks themselves were grotesque). ‘Whatever you do, I won’t be speaking… or snacking!’
‘Oh Mum, you’re being silly…’
‘Silly? You and I were going to have an evening together, I haven’t seen you for weeks, I make a lovely meal and then you invite her over… with sodding snacks.’
‘Mum, before I could explain that y
ou’d cooked, she’d offered to come over and bring…’
‘Snacks.’
‘Snacks,’ I repeated.
‘Well isn’t that just like her? She disappears for the best part of thirty years then turns up like the bloody snack fairy.’
I knew it wasn’t the prospect of snacks causing such vitriol, it was the source of those snacks. I knew damn well that if instead of snacks Gina was bringing diamonds, kittens or orphans my mother’s bitter hatred would have been just the same.
‘Mum… please be civil. It’ll be embarrassing if you don’t speak to her.’
‘Gina’s dead to me,’ she said, in full mafia moll mode, and turned straight back to the TV, a sign that the conversation was over. I stared at the screen too, for a while, wondering where I could take this, but I couldn’t think of anything to say so just kept staring, dreading the knock on the door.
Mum and Gina hadn’t seen each other for over thirty years and I’d always assumed Mum’s main gripe had been with Sophia. After all it was so long ago Gina would have been a teenager when the sisters had fallen out, and though I knew Mum had never approved of Gina, I didn’t expect this anger from her.
Surely now after all this time, Gina’s lifestyle and choices weren’t upsetting my mother. Whatever it was, it seemed my mother disliked her niece as much as she’d disliked her sister, and any minute now Gina would be arriving with supper. For the three of us. To eat together. I didn’t know how it would go but I had an idea – and quite frankly was amazed my mother hadn’t already flounced off to her room the minute Gina’s name was mentioned.
Eventually, the doorbell rang and I felt like throwing up; ‘That’ll be Gina,’ I said, but Mum didn’t acknowledge me. ‘Mum… I’ll make it up to you, we’ll have dinner again tomorrow night, just you and me,’ I added, before heading for the door. I stood there just wishing it was Ben at the door, with Mum and Gina safely tucked up in their respective beds.
Would I ever have an evening free for Ben with my mother and cousin now in town? What had happened to that lovely space I’d found, in my home, my heart and my life, not to mention my bed?
The doorbell rang again so I swept past the wall of hate emanating from my mother and opened the door. I put on my best smile and there she was, blonde and beautiful, a bottle of champagne in one hand, a bag of food in the other and a huge bunch of flowers clutched to her chest. She was peering over them and smiling, her lips glossy, French perfume wafting over me. And I thought, not for the first time, how I wished I could be like Gina, always glamorous, full of confidence and life, her actions uncomplicated by others.
