Pia smiles. “Yep”.
“Oh my god, and I’m going to be a grandmother,” Lily-Rose shrieks as though she has only now thought of this. “I’m only fifty.”
“Only fifty,” Mary scoffs. “I was a grandmother earlier than that.” Her eyes meet June’s for a brief moment, but enough time to silently acknowledge her lie, but one so well-practised that it rolls off the tongue.
June was only thirty-nine years old when Pia was born. A grandmother before her fortieth birthday.
“And you’ll be a great grandmother,” Pia says to Mary.
“I’ve been called worse,” Mary says with a laugh.
June jumps to her feet. “I think there’s champagne in the fridge. Forget this tea, let’s have a toast to celebrate.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Lily-Rose says.
They collect champagne flutes, a bottle of Moet & Chandon from the fridge that June had won in a raffle almost eighteen months ago, and a fresh bottle of orange juice for Pia.
After the glasses are topped, Pia’s with only a small amount of champagne and the majority with orange juice, they all hold their glasses in the air.
“To Pia and her wonderful news that this family will soon have a new addition,” June says.
“To Pia and her baby,” they all chorus before chiming their glasses against each other and taking a swallow.
Pia frowns as she stares at her tall glass of juice. “It sucks that I can’t celebrate with champagne.”
Lily-Rose rubs her shoulder and smiles. “The sacrifices we make for our children. Get used to it.”
Pia rolls her eyes. “You sound like Aunt June.”
“And nearly every mother on the planet,” Grace adds.
June glances at Mary—she is smiling, though it’s tight and barely touches her eyes. These conversations have always been difficult for her.
Pia runs a hand over her belly. “I’m really happy about this baby.”
Lily-Rose rests a head on Pia’s shoulder. “Me too, sweetie.”
The positive energy in the room is profound. The happiness glows in shades of gold and yellow around every one of them.
* * *
By eleven o’clock, the women have settled in the living room. Pia has modern Christmas tunes playing from her iPhone through a small, round speaker that projects sound as loudly as most of the bigger speakers June has heard.
They sip a thumb of brandy from the good glassware kept for important occasions as they await Luca. Once he arrives, they’ll be able to open the presents.
The knock on the door comes a few minutes before eleven. June lurches to her feet and rushes to the front door. She opens it wide.
“Damien?” she says, as breathless as his brown eyes are soft.
He grins. “Merry Christmas, June.” He leans in and kisses her on the cheek.
He smells divine like freshly showered and shaved skin. In all the time they’ve known each other, she has never been this close to him. Against her cheek is the faintest brush of stubble. The sensation ignites memories of past intimacies.
“I brought wine,” he says, holding up a bottle. In his other hand is a bag of wrapped gifts. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Oh, you’re here to spend Christmas with us?”
His forehead wrinkles and he frowns. “Um, yes, Mary stopped in last week and asked … unless I misunderstood. I haven’t gone and made an idiot of myself—”
“Of course not,” Mary says, standing behind June. “I’m sorry, I thought I’d told June you were joining us today, but it must have slipped my mind.”
June narrows her eyes as she peers over her shoulder at Mary. Her sister is a horrible liar when the consequences aren’t life or death. She turns back to Damien and motions he come inside. “Come in. We’re happy to have you here.”
Luca rushes up the front path through the puddles and pouring rain with more bottles of wine in his hand.
“Looks like it’s going to be a real party,” June says, grinning. “Lovely to see you, Luca. Merry Christmas.”
He leans in and kisses her cheek, a few drops of rain wetting her shoulder from his hair. “Merry Christmas, June.”
Two gorgeous men in the one day is quite a record for her, and she doesn’t altogether dislike it. “I must have done something right this year to have two handsome men for Christmas.”
Luca and Damien laugh as they share a look with each other.
“I won’t object to flattery,” Damien says.
Luca follows Damien inside, and he kisses Mary’s cheek on his way past. June watches the interaction with shocked amusement. Usually, Mary will wiggle out the way or try some other trick to avoid physical contact. She must respect Luca to allow him to kiss her cheek.
Damien settles for a nod as he says Merry Christmas, perhaps older and wise enough to understand the unstated boundaries with Mary. June closes the door behind them and smiles as she wonders why Damien hadn’t felt those same boundaries with her.
“Did I hear the words ‘handsome and men’?” calls Lily-Rose.
The remaining ladies stand and offer kisses and Christmas greetings as they all join each other in the living room.
June finds a seat on the sofa, noting the change in energy when Damien sits beside her. She takes some deep breaths to calm her fast beating heart.
As expected, Luca sits next to Pia, close enough that their thighs are touching.
More brandy is poured. Rum balls and snow-white slice is offered. They exchange pleasantries and comments on the horrible weather.
“Thank goodness we have this big house this year because we’ll be stuck inside all day, I’m afraid,” Mary says not without noticeable regret.
The Christmas tunes still play softly in the background. Rain thrums on the rooftop. The room is warm. The scent of roasting meats and vegetables fills the air along with an undercurrent of sweet liquor.
“When do you expect the renovations to be finished?” Damien asks.
Mary gestures to Luca.
“The ladies will be moving into their apartments hopefully by early March. I’ll start renovations in here right after that, and it should all be ready for guests by September.”
“You’re more than welcome to drop in and see the progress,” Mary says.
June glares at her again. What is she up to? Trying her hand at matchmaking?
“I’d like that,” Damien replies.
Mary takes the head chair next to the Christmas tree. “Come, Pia, you can help me with the gifts.”
“Thank goodness, it’s time,” Lily-Rose says. “I could barely stand the anticipation. No matter how old I get, I still get so excited about gift giving.”
Mary laughs. “You were certainly that way when younger. Getting you to bed on Christmas Eve was near impossible. One year, Lily-Rose got a swing set. But she wouldn’t go to sleep, no matter how much we berated her. Poor Robert was out in the backyard still putting the set together at three o’clock in the morning.”
“I remember that,” June says. “In the end, I had to sleep in the bed beside her to make sure she didn’t get up.”
“My father was a wonderful man,” Lily-Rose says with a wavering voice. “I always miss him most at Christmas.”
“Most of us will carry the memories of at least someone in our hearts today,” Grace says, bleary-eyed.
“I think we may need more upbeat music, Pia,” Mary says. “Can you skip this song?”
June squirms in her seat as her own emotions flood her. Yes, she holds a tender ache in her chest for her parents today. And for her brothers-in-law, John and Robert. Then there are the dear friends she has lost over the years; they are all here today in their own way.
Pia skips the song. The next one is much more upbeat. Jingle Bells. She sits on the rug next to the many presents wrapped in a colourful array of Christmas coloured wrappings, string and big curling bows.
June hasn’t seen this many gifts under the tree since Lily-Rose was a young child. Most
years, there were only two presents—one for June and one for Mary.
Pia hands the first gift to Mary. Mary reads the name card. “This is a present for Grace from Lily-Rose.”
Grace grins and rushes to receive her present. Back at her seat, she unwraps it, revealing a bundle of multi-coloured kitchen aprons, each made of beautiful patterned materials, and her name handstitched along the top.
Grace’s eyes brighten as she smiles. “Thank you so much. These are gorgeous and incredibly thoughtful.”
Lily-Rose beams. “My pleasure.”
And on it goes with each person’s name called out as their gift is handed to Mary.
Luca made each of them different coloured wooden plaques to mount near the front door of their apartments with hand-painted bright flowers and their name in twisting font. It must have taken him hours to have crafted each of them.
Grace bought Mary an antique make-up mirror. Pia gifted June a new yoga mat and blanket, a meditation cushion and scent-free organic body scrub.
“Oh, this one is for me,” Mary says, holding the next present. “From Lily-Rose.”
This particular gift always steals June’s attention. Each year Lily-Rose buys Mary the most wonderful presents, and June reminds herself that Christmas isn’t about gift-giving, it’s about being with each other. Without Mary, June would not have Lily-Rose, Pia, nor the imminent baby in her life.
Mary unwraps the paper revealing a small, black felt box, marginally bigger than Mary’s hand. She opens it and pulls out a string of real pearls—shiny and opalescent under the lights.
June’s mouth drops open, as does Grace’s.
“Oh, wow, Nan, they are gorgeous,” Pia says from her position on the rug.
Mary purses her lips together to dampen her smile. “They’re exquisite. Thank you.”
Lily-Rose smiles.
And June’s blood boils. Always the reserved interaction with Lily-Rose no matter the lengths she takes to get some kind of reaction from Mary.
The rest of the gift-giving passes by in an angry blur. When Mary stands to fetch more brandy, June follows after her.
Enough is enough. She can’t stand by any longer and not say something.
“Mary,” she says when they are both in the kitchen out of earshot.
“Yes,” Mary says, not facing her but rummaging through the cupboard for the new bottle of brandy.
“They were beautiful pearls Lily-Rose bought you.”
“I agree,” she says.
June sighs, her shoulders hunching. “How about you show Lily-Rose some deserved appreciation. Do you know how hard she bloody tries to get you to display some damned emotion from time to time?”
Mary’s arm drops to her side as she turns and watches June wearily, not so much with the upright manner she once would have.
This makes June take a step back. She had expected an erect tree and was presented with a bent branch. She hesitates a moment, choosing to change her tone and word choice at the last moment to something less explosive. “I know you’ve been through some very difficult times, but Lily-Rose needs to know you love her.”
“Of course she knows that.”
“When was the last time you said it then?”
Mary purses her lips. “I show her. That’s more important.”
June shakes her head. “You don’t show her. Not for a long time. I didn’t sacrifice my entire life for Lily-Rose to go without.”
Mary flinches, her nose wrinkling as her lips twist with displeasure. “Is that what you think?
“Not in that way,” June says, pressing her hands to her hips. “I know you gave her everything she ever needed. But emotionally … surely you can see you’ve held back. You’re her mother.”
Mary breathes in deeply, releases it. “I do the best I know how.”
June frowns. “Yes, well, if that’s what you think—”
“Don’t do this today of all days. Emotions are already high. If you really want to discuss how terrible a mother I’ve been, then wait until tomorrow. Or best, don’t bring it up at all.”
“It’s my place to.”
Mary steps forward, lowers her voice, but it takes on much harsher tones. “And can’t you see that’s the problem. It’s your place to step in. It’s your right. It’s you, you, you. I’m a substitute, remember? And if I’ve ever held back, it’s for you, so I don’t step on your toes. So I don’t upset you. So I don’t overstep barriers I shouldn’t be overstepping.”
June gasps, hand flinging to her chest. Her mouth flaps open and shut.
Mary’s shoulders roll inwards on a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”
June shakes her head. “This should not be about me. At all. This has always been about Lily-Rose.”
“It may have been about Lily-Rose for you, but for me, it was never about her and always about you, so you didn’t have to go your entire life missing your baby. You try being in my position and tell me if you’d have done any better because you wouldn’t have. Every second of the day, every embrace, every kind word, has all been scrutinised for any potential that it may hurt you.” She points out to the living room. “I love those pearls. I wanted to cry when I saw them. They’re that exquisite. But in the back of my mind, I know they’re meant for you.”
June stares open-mouthed at her sister. So many years have passed between them and never has Mary opened up like this to her. Any matter that is deep or potentially hurtful is always brushed under the carpet for the sake of happy families.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t think, even just a little, that those pearls should have been yours?” Mary says, brow arched with anticipation of being proven right.
June opens her mouth to lie, but she squeezes her lips together instead.
“Point made,” Mary says, grabbing the bottle of brandy from the cupboard and walking out of the kitchen.
June hangs back for a long moment, head reeling from what Mary has admitted. It’s true, June has given away her entire life, her chance at being a mother, marriage to a wonderful man, everything, so Lily-Rose could be happy.
Not once did June consider that Mary had done it all for her. Her eyes burn with emotion for how blind she has been. All these years, she has envied Mary for being the one in the limelight, but she was also eternally thankful she stepped up and helped June more than any sister would ever be expected to help. Trying to reconcile those two conflicting emotions has been impossible, unbearable.
Now her feelings have morphed into shame for never realising her sister’s true motivations, but also, dare she admit it, love. Knowing this truth, she now loves her big sister even more.
* * *
The men are tipsy and quite playful by the time they all sit down for Christmas lunch around three that afternoon. Having male energy in the house is a lovely change—long overdue.
Grace has prepared the most delicious lunch of roast turkey breast, pork, honey-mustard ham, along with gravy, roasted potatoes and myriad vegetables and fresh salads.
“My goodness, this looks amazing,” Damien says as he takes a seat next to June at the dining table. “And you’ll be preparing the meals when the bed and breakfast opens?”
Grace grins. Her cheeks flush with colour. Perhaps this is what they all needed—some light-hearted flattery and attention. “I will be. I’ve been retired for a few years, so I’m trying to get into the groove of cooking again.”
“I’d say you’ve definitely got your groove back,” Luca says grinning.
“Please, dig in,” Grace says.
As they dish up their meals, the conversation turns to old times, plans for the bed and breakfast, the café, Luca’s business, and Lily-Rose’s career.
“Who was the worst to kiss?” Damien asks Lily-Rose.
Approaching drunk, Lily-Rose leans forward with fingers on her lips. “You must promise this is to never leave this room.”
Damien crosses his heart.
“Marcus Baker.”
Pia gas
ps. “Really? But he’s so attractive. He has a new girlfriend every week.”
Lily-Rose shrugs. “That’s why. He can’t kiss to save himself. I honestly nearly gagged. Too much tongue.”
Mary rolls her eyes. “Is this really dinner table conversation?”
“It is for me,” Lily-Rose says with a laugh.
“Who was the biggest arseho …” Luca looks sidelong at Mary, then clears his throat. “I mean awful person?”
“Martha Richards, hands down,” Lily-Rose says with zero hesitation.
“But she plays such lovely characters,” Grace says.
“I know. She’s a great actress, but a horrible person. I had to do a film with her in the early days when I was still incredibly unconfident. She absolutely cut me down. Said a mannequin could act better than me. She tried to get me fired.”
“She was jealous,” June says.
Lily-Rose lifts her wine glass and sips. “I know that now. She was older than me and here was this younger actress coming in to steal her thunder. I know how it feels, but I have never treated any other actress the way she treated me. I very nearly gave up acting. Imagine if I had?”
“Lesson learned: don’t give up,” Pia says.
“Exactly, darling. And don’t listen to jealous bitches.”
“Language at the table,” Mary says curtly.
“Sorry, Mum. But she is a bitch. I think she may actually be dead now. We can only hope.”
Mary rolls her eyes again, but the others quietly laugh. Lily-Rose is never one to put a dampener on her tongue. June is proud of her for that.
“How about we toast our loved ones who are no longer here with us?” Grace says.
Mary nods. “That would be lovely.”
Grace holds her glass out in front of her. “To Mum and Dad and John, Merry Christmas. I hope the angels are taking good care of you all.” Her voice wavers. She takes a moment to compose herself. “We miss you and wish you were here with us every single day.
Lily-Rose holds up her glass. “And I would like to toast Dad, who hasn’t been with us for forty Christmases now, but who is missed every single year.”
Their eyes turn to Damien. He lifts his glass in the air and says with a deep, steady voice. “To my wife, May, who is having her fifth Christmas in Heaven. I miss you deeply. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
The Secrets Mothers Keep Page 20
