“You were the apple of your father’s eye,” Angelica continued. “He quite literally worshipped the ground you crawled and then later walked on. The feeling was quite mutual. Sometimes I felt like a spare part, you know, an outsider, with my nose pushed up against the window, looking in on something I wasn’t actually a part of…but longed to be.”
Layla was surprised her mother had felt this way. She started to interrupt, not quite sure what to say but to be sympathetic at least, but Angelica stopped her.
“It’s fine. I was rambling. I find myself doing that more and more lately,” she said, patting Layla’s hand affectionately. “You were just so incredibly close, the two of you, and at times I felt a little jealous of the bond between you. That was my fault and quite unforgivable.”
Shaking her head as though to clear unwanted thoughts, Angelica continued with her reminiscences. She told Layla all about her first day at school, how many pictures her father had taken of that special day, his pride when she had played a star in the school nativity.
“Most of the children were stars, for heaven’s sake.” She laughed. “It wasn’t exactly the lead role, but it might as well have been, the way he was behaving. I thought he was going to burst.”
After chatting some more about Layla’s childhood, she started talking about the accident, as Layla knew she must.
“He was only seventeen, you know, the lad who hit him. Just passed his driving test. Out with a group of friends in his father’s car, showing off, no doubt. He plowed straight into your dad’s car head-on. Nobody in the other car was hurt, not so much as a scratch, but Greg died instantly, or so they said. I still wonder if that was true or if they were just trying to be kind. If he was alive at the scene of the accident, even for a few moments, what was he thinking? Who was he thinking of?”
“You, Mum,” said Layla softly. “He would have thought of you.”
Angelica visibly struggled at this, but she nonetheless managed to continue. “I missed him so much. It was as though a part of me died that day, too—and not a small part. A big part. Most of me, in fact. It was agony, sheer agony, and the agony just wouldn’t go away.”
Layla moved closer to Angelica and took her hand.
“I couldn’t see past my own pain. I know that. Don’t think I don’t. I couldn’t deal with anyone’s loss but my own. Not even yours. I’ve always been selfish.”
“No,” Layla protested, but weakly. There was, after all, truth in those words.
“We struggled on, you and I, but very much in our own ways. I see that now. I wasn’t there for you, was I?”
“In a way, you were. But I could never reach you, not really. You surrounded yourself with so many people, almost like they were armor. It became my turn, I suppose, to stand on the outside, looking in.”
Angelica nodded thoughtfully. “Armor? I like that analogy…yes, that’s what they were in a way. They were armor against my feelings. They stopped me from thinking about Greg. I had to be busy every part of every day, doing something, being with someone, anyone. If I’d had time to stop and think, to contemplate how I really felt, I would have fallen apart, and then I would have been of no use to you at all. I’d probably have been locked away in an asylum somewhere, and you’d have been left to the mercy of Danica.”
Mum avoided her sister like the plague. As far as Layla could work out, her aunt Danica was a bitter woman, full of anger over a failed marriage, blaming everything and everyone but herself for the misfortunes in her life. She was someone Angelica had spent her whole life striving to be the complete opposite of and someone Layla hardly knew.
Steering the conversation back to her father, Layla asked, “Do you still miss him?”
“Yes, darling. At some point every day, I think of him. You never recover from losing your soul mate. But you do learn to live with it, eventually.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, it’s me that should be saying sorry,” replied Angelica fervently. “I knew we were growing apart after your father’s death, and I regretted every minute of it, but at the same time, I seemed powerless to stop it. I gave up trying to stop it, I suppose. Growing up, you looked so much like your father. It hurt to even look at you. When you retreated to your room, I let you. It just seemed easier somehow, for me, that is, not you. I am truly sorry. So many years wasted.”
“But we had this, remember?” Layla threw her arms out. “We had our holidays in Trecastle, with Hannah and Connie, and we were close then, all of us. It wasn’t all wasted.”
“You’re so generous, my love,” said Angelica. “You embody the best of Greg and me. I’m so needy. I can’t cope with life on my own. But you, you’ve supported yourself since leaving college, never relied on anyone. You brought yourself up, or as good as. Now you live here, writing away, and holding down a busy bar job too. You’re amazing. A life like yours would kill me. I mean, who’d take out the bins?”
Layla smiled at her mother’s joke. “I’m not sure I’m that capable. But it’s nice to know someone thinks I am.” Unlike Penny, she thought, harking back to their argument earlier that year.
“Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re extremely capable. I don’t think I’ve ever said this to you before, Layla Lewis, but I’m proud of you. You are one very special girl. And I miss you. I have done for a long time.”
“I’ve missed you too,” whispered Layla, swallowing hard. “But it’s not too late. We can start again.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Angelica, tears running freely down her face as she raised a glass of the premier cru she’d brought from duty-free.
“Cheers,” Layla replied, her eyes dry but filled with wonder.
Much later, lying in bed alone, Layla had marveled yet again at the magic of Trecastle. At how this place had brought her and her mother together so many years ago, if only for brief periods of time, and how it had brought them together again, hopefully for good this time. And if that was the only purpose for being here, she told herself, it was a fit purpose. It was enough. When her mother left, Layla would leave too and lay to rest this chapter of her life. It was finished; its purpose fulfilled.
They didn’t talk about the past again during the days that followed. There was no need; that too was finished, over and done with. It was time to live for the moment, as her mother tried so hard to do. And to get to know each other again.
At long last, she thought. At long last.
Chapter Twenty-Six
IT AMUSED LAYLA HOW EASY it was for Angelica to throw off the trappings of her glamorous life and come back down to earth again with a vengeance for the duration of her stay. She would pad around the cottage in Layla’s clothes, as she deemed her own too fussy for the wilds of Cornwall, with not a scrap of makeup on and hair unrestrained. Despite her mother’s longing to revisit Trecastle proper, Layla somehow managed to steer her to a neighboring village to linger over lunch in a seafood restaurant or to visit stately houses such as Pencarrow and Lanhydrock. Even the Eden Project got a look in, both of them relishing the humidity of the indoor rainforest. There was an incredible easiness between them now that was both comforting and surprising, and Layla found herself feeling as close to this woman as Penny and Hannah. Admittedly, they were more like friends than mother and daughter, but that was fine. It was better than the nothing they’d had.
“Why don’t you come and see me again in Milan?” Angelica had asked, promising to scale down her social engagements so she could show off the city properly this time. “I can introduce you to several eligible bachelors I know. I’m sure you’d like them.”
Angelica didn’t know Layla was contemplating marriage to Alex. Layla wondered if she should tell her, but held back, not wanting to taint their time together somehow. And those bachelors did sound tempting: dark, handsome, and, fingers crossed, completely unable to speak a word of English. Considering how often she put her foot in it with Joseph, that would be a huge bonus!
As her remaining time in England d
windled, Angelica refused to be put off any longer—she wanted to see Hannah again. She also quizzed Layla about all the other friends she’d made in the village, wanting to meet them, too, before she left. Layla had dreaded this. Not only did that familiar feeling of not wanting to share her mother resurface, she wasn’t sure she had any friends in the village left to introduce her to, Hannah included.
Angelica insisted they visit the Trecastle Inn on the penultimate night of her stay, and thinking what the hell, she had nothing more to lose, Layla agreed. As they walked in, the usual suspects, as she secretly thought of them, were in residence. All except Joseph, she noted with relief.
“Angelica!” cried Hannah. “Tom said something about you paying a surprise visit, but I thought he must have got his wires crossed.”
“No, darling, he was quite right. Here I am, large as life and still full of surprises. Let me look at you,” she said, holding Hannah by the shoulders. “Oh, you’re beautiful. How wonderful to see you again.”
Whilst Hannah and her mother formed a mutual appreciation society, Layla tried to catch Jim’s eye, but he was deep in conversation with Curtis, whether deliberately or genuinely so, she couldn’t tell. As for Mick, he was chatting animatedly to some woman she’d never seen before, although he did look over and smile at her from time to time.
At least someone’s acknowledging me, she thought sadly.
“Layla, darling, what are you drinking?”
“Oh.” Layla shook herself out of her reverie. “Erm, a glass of pinot, please.”
“A glass of pinot grigio, it is. And Hannah, one for yourself, as well. Introduce me to your friends, then, darling. I’ll buy them a drink, too.”
“No, Mum. Really, there’s no need,” Layla started, but it was too late—Angelica had already made her way over to Mick, Jim, and Curtis.
“Hello,” she said enthusiastically. “I’m Angelica Lewis, Layla’s mother. Are you friends of my daughter’s?”
After a surprised but mutual nodding of heads, Angelica said, “Oh, good, I’ve found some at last. I was beginning to think she was some sort of social pariah.”
“Mum,” hissed Layla, mortified but spared any further exchange as Mick quickly answered.
“Her mother? You’re kidding me? You look more like sisters.”
Angelica laughed delightedly at this. If there was one thing she adored, and indeed was used to, it was flattery. The initial awkwardness successfully dispelled, Jim also started chatting, as did Curtis and a few others, Angelica’s warmth drawing them like moths to a flame. She kept them all highly entertained with her witty stories and anecdotes, making herself very popular indeed.
Whilst her mother was busy, Layla knew she should go over and speak to Hannah, but she found herself rooted to the spot, unable to. Layla had glanced over a couple of times, and each time, Hannah had been looking straight at her. Had Jim told her about her argument with Joseph? He must have done, considering the daggers in her eyes. Layla would have to explain at some stage, she knew that, but maybe from afar. Most definitely from afar.
Meanwhile, like a little girl hanging onto her mother’s skirt, she stood obediently by Angelica’s side, marveling at her ability to hold court. If her mother was proud of her, she was proud of her mother. Very proud.
Walking home later that night, Angelica enthused about Layla’s friends, remarking on the gorgeous young woman Hannah was now and how friendly the boys were. She loved being back in Trecastle and wondered if Giorgio would be averse to buying a little holiday cottage here, a notion that filled Layla with complete and utter horror. When she left here, there was no way she’d be able to return, ever.
As they entered the cottage, Angelica turned to face her. “Do you know why Joseph wasn’t in the pub tonight?”
Layla had no idea her mother knew anything about Joseph. Certainly she hadn’t mentioned him; she’d made sure of that.
Feeling herself blush furiously, Layla spluttered, “Erm…er…no, I don’t. Why should I?”
“Oh, I just wondered,” Angelica replied innocently enough.
“When…when did you meet him?”
“Yesterday. When you were at the shops, I went to inspect the garden. This botanist chap—Lenny, isn’t it?—he’s hardly going to be thrilled with how you’ve let the weeds take hold, dear.”
“The weeds? Oh, Mum, never mind about the bloody weeds. You actually spoke to Joseph?”
“Yes, I did. He was tinkering in that shed of his. I called over to say hello. We had a lovely chat. What a gorgeous boy he is and those eyes!”
“I know,” said Layla, before quickly adding, “I mean, yes, he has got nice eyes, I suppose, not that I’ve really noticed, not at all, in fact.” Forcing herself to stop babbling, she asked, “What did you say to him?”
“Oh, we passed the time of day, that sort of thing.”
Layla could tell her mother was playing with her now. She had a sly, knowing look on her face, a look that was striking fear into the very depths of her. They hadn’t just passed the time of day, she was certain. But if not, what had transpired?
“Come on, Mum.” She was desperate now. “Tell me.”
“I just asked, not directly of course, whether he was single?”
“Single?” asked Layla incredulously. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“Think about it. He’s single; Alex is never around. I wanted to know why the pair of you hadn’t got it together. You’d make a lovely couple, you know. I thought that as soon as I saw him.”
“Tell me you didn’t say as much.”
“Actually, I did. He’s too good to ignore. I don’t know what’s wrong with you sometimes. Your boyfriends are almost as old as mine. Sophocles would have something to say about that, I’m sure.”
Layla grabbed hold of her mother’s wrists. “What have you done? This is a disaster.” Releasing her just as abruptly, she turned away, muttering all the while, “Thank God I’m going. It’s just as well. I could never stay here, not now. Not only does he think I’m a nutter, he’ll think I’ve come from a long line of nutters. And he’d be right. Absolutely bloody right.”
Angelica came up behind her and placed her hands on Layla’s shoulders. “Now, now, don’t upset yourself so. I was very subtle about it, you know. I didn’t just come out with it.”
Swinging around, Layla implored, “Tell me, then, every word you said.”
“Don’t be silly, dear. I can’t remember every word I said. But it was interesting. When I mentioned about you two being an item, he went very quiet. Looked forlorn, in fact. Naturally, that aroused my suspicions.”
“Naturally,” replied Layla, anger and embarrassment taking it in turns to swamp her.
“I asked him if perhaps you’d already been an item at some stage. After all, you’ve been here a good few months now. He said I’d have to ask you about that, but he thought you were a lovely girl and, having met me, he could see where you got your good looks and charm from.”
At this Angelica elicited a girlish giggle, obviously taking his words literally, choosing or failing to see any irony in them.
“I cannot believe you,” yelled Layla. “You are actually unbelievable.”
“It has been said,” Angelica purred. “But seriously, why you’ve never mentioned your neighbor was so edible is beyond me.”
“Because of Alex, of course!”
“Oh, Alex Smalex, your absent boyfriend, you mean?”
“He’s absent at my choosing, not for any other reason. I’m going back to him soon, very soon. Tomorrow, in fact. I’m leaving right after you are. I was about to leave when you turned up, stopping me. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be gone by now.”
Forcing her daughter to sit down, Angelica said, “I knew it. I knew something had happened. You looked wretched when I turned up, and then there was your reticence to introduce me to anyone, to even wander into the village center. I had to insist on seeing Hannah, too. As for Joseph, something’s gone very wrong between yo
u two, hasn’t it?”
“No,” she protested, “it hasn’t.” And then, fed up with all the lies, with keeping her feelings to herself for so damn long, she said, “Yes, yes, it has. It’s gone horribly wrong. I can’t believe how wrong it’s gone, not when it was once so right.”
“There, there,” said Angelica gently. “Let it out, every last ounce of anger and frustration. Don’t suppress it. It’s not good for you. I’ve spent a lifetime doing that, and it looks like I’ve taught you to do the same. Enough now. Be honest with me, but more importantly, be honest with yourself. Only then can things start to get better.”
Her mother’s words striking to the very core, Layla looked up, saw the empathy in the woman’s face, and, in a rush, told her everything.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“AND NOW YOU’RE RETURNING TO ALEX?” said Angelica in astonishment.
“I can’t stay here, Mum. You can see that’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible, darling. Of course you can stay. In fact, my advice is you damn well do stay. Sort out the mess you’ve made.”
“So you do think I’ve made a mess, then?” Layla hung her head forlornly. Couldn’t her mother lie just a little bit?
“I most certainly do, and believe me, if you leave it that way, it will come back to haunt you. No, you need to do the right thing: make amends with Joseph, Hannah and Jim too. Only then can you make peace with yourself. As for Alex, he sounds truly awful. Dump him.”
“He’s not, Mum,” said Layla, lifting her head defiantly. “I know I haven’t painted a great picture of him, but what he did, he did in the past. He’s promised it will never happen again. He loves me. He moved heaven and earth to find me.”
“Heaven and earth? I’m not sure about that, dear. I told him, or rather I told his secretary.”
“You told him?” Layla gasped, unable to believe her ears.
The Runaway Year Page 21
