by Cocktails
I blinked. ‘I never heard that story!’
‘I told you, I was a wild child once.’ Jen smiled at me, pursing her lips. ‘I can’t be the good one just because you see your mum as the bad one. Can’t be angelic just because you see her as the devil.’
‘I know that.’ I frowned, thinking of what she’d told me about her husband, her wild days. It was nice to know there were good ways to be wild too. It wasn’t all darkness and sadness.
‘I had my own adventures once. Long before your mother came along, before she sang and danced and drank, before you arrived.’
I watched her bright eyes and vibrant features, so birdlike, glossy feathers and wide smile.
‘And then you came along, and it was my job to be what you needed.’
I wilted a little. ‘No, it was her job.’
‘Well, I flatter myself I did it better.’ She nudged me, winking as she got up.
‘You absolutely did,’ I said, linking my arm with hers as we walked back to the kitchen. ‘What would you say to her now? If you could say anything?’
‘I’d say she messed up enough times over the years, but she made the right choice to leave you with me, to give you something stable. And I’d tell her I missed my sister. I miss Clare. I don’t want to hear about Persephone Black. I wanted to know about Clare.’
I’d almost forgotten her name. She’d wanted to be seen as the mystical Persephone, and we obliged. It was a beautiful lie, and it was easy to see her that way. Clare Curtis, plain Clare Curtis, sister to Jen, mother to Savannah. It didn’t seem possible that person even still existed, that she’d ever existed.
‘I’m going to talk to her. Today. I’m going to talk to my mother today.’
The words almost didn’t belong to me: they appeared, from ether, from dust and intention, as if a thought bubble had been narrated above my head. Jen stilled.
‘And what are you going to say?’
‘I have no fucking idea. I’ll find out when I get there.’
* * *
A few hours later I was pacing back and forth in the park near Soraya. Milo’s text had come in not long before, a reservation for dinner that night, and a booking for the spa next door that afternoon. I looked at the end of the text again, smiling to myself.
I had to do a lot of sweet-talking to get this. I hope you’re taking this rule breaking as a sign I like you. Do what you need to do. x
He was right. I needed to do it. I needed to look at her, and make her see me. Make her say something, anything real.
My hands trembled as I stepped down the side street and through the door to the spa. There was no name, just a symbol of a lotus flower on a black door. Inside, however, it was a completely different story. It was an oasis of calm.
As I walked up to the reception desk, I looked around at the people sitting, getting their nails done, chatting away with glasses of Champagne or cups of herbal tea, blissful smiles on their possibly famous faces. I had to find out where my mother was. She certainly wasn’t getting her nails done in the open space, although I noticed a woman who I was sure I’d seen on a Tube poster on the way in.
The overtly serene face of the receptionist greeted me. ‘Hello there.’
Her voice was low, the tone deep and gentle. It was like having someone run their fingers through my hair. But I didn’t want to be relaxed, I wanted to be riled up, angry and outraged. I wanted to keep that fire in the pit of my stomach as I listed every horrible thing she’d ever done. The time she lost me at the airport, the sex with random men, never saying goodbye, stealing the limelight, getting my birthday wrong, writing that goddamn hideous song, and failing to notice me when she saw me. She only remembered people who she could use for her own benefit.
I remembered that much clearly. She’d smile at the boys behind the bar, the man who took our luggage to the room, the fan behind the check-in desk who could bump us up to a first-class flight. ‘Be nice to useful people, Savannah – they’re the ones whose names you have to remember. Everyone else is dust.’ I think I’d hated her in that moment, that everyone had to exist to help her and please her, or they were nothing. And even I, young and mostly ignorant, had noticed that almost all of those names she remembered were male. Women never seemed to exist. Just dust. That’s all people were to her.
I smiled painfully at the assistant, checking her name badge, ‘Hi, um, Carol. I’m meant to be meeting my mum here, but she’s terrible at remembering what treatment she’s having. I have no idea where she is!’
Carol’s perfect skin stretched around the edges of her mouth, as she briefly smiled. ‘Of course. Can I take your name?’
‘Savannah Curtis, my mum is –’
‘–Ah, of course!‘ She smiled again. ‘She’s one of my favourites!’
‘I hear that a lot.’ I gritted my teeth.
‘She was getting a massage in room two earlier, but I think she’s gone through to the sauna. Feel free to go back there.’
It was that easy? What if I’d been a reporter? I supposed my blood ties perhaps made that less likely. For once, being Persephone Black’s daughter meant I got exactly what I wanted.
‘Oh, and, um...I’m sorry about your boyfriend. That DJ. You can do better,’ the receptionist said sweetly, then looked away, suddenly aware of her indiscretion.
‘Um... thanks, I guess.’
I poked my head around doors, looking for my mother, walked into the sauna, immediately blinded by steam. I made sure she wasn’t in there and quickly backed out again.
Then I heard a gong, a steady hum, and walked down the corridor towards the sound, peering through the crack in the door. There she was, sitting cross-legged on the floor, head thrown back, eyes closed as a calm smile played about her lips. She looked happy. I was an angry, broken mess who had thrown away years of my life on a moron because she’d abandoned me, but she was happy!
I strode in, pushing the door, trying to find the words.
‘Oi! You!’ Her eyes opened and she simply stared.
‘Excuse me,’ the therapist said, voice soothing even though she was clearly angry. ‘This is a private gong-bath meditation session and you are disturbing the calm –’
‘Well, she’s disturbed my calm for the last 20 years!’
The therapist sighed, standing up. ‘I’m going to need you to leave, or I’ll have to call security.’
‘No, wait,’ my mother said, leaning back on her hands and smiling up at me. ‘This is interesting. I don’t think I’ve met anyone whose life I’ve ruined. At least not recently. How exciting!’
Her voice was low and raspy as I’d noticed the day before, different from when she was younger when it was smooth and soft and she pulled melodies out of thin air. She had a magic about her when she sang.
‘Aren’t you the girl I bumped into yesterday? Did that really ruin your life that quickly?’ She snorted, shaking her head. ‘Give me some time, babe, I’m sure I could mess it up worse.’
‘Is that a threat?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘God knows, it’s just true. Come on, sit down here, tell me your name and what I’ve done.’
I laughed in disbelief, shaking my head. ‘Okay, well, my name’s Savannah Curtis, and you abandoned me when I was 7 years old.’
She widened her eyes, then put her hand to her mouth to stop herself laughing. ‘Savvy! Holy fuck. Well, I win mother of the year, don’t I? Good to see you, baby girl.’
I stood there, mouth gaping like an idiot. She was laughing. It was funny, to her, that she didn’t recognize her own daughter.
The therapist looked between the two of us, bemused. ‘Would you like to join the ceremony? It can often be used to dissipate tensions and create a wonderful sense of harmony.’
‘Yes!’ Mum yelped, patting the ground next to her. ‘Come and meditate with me – I’m sure that would be excellent. Really deal with those feelings.’
‘There is not enough therapy in the world,’ I fumed. ‘I can’t believe you’re sitting ther
e laughing at me! You don’t give a shit, is that it? You haven’t seen your daughter for over a decade, you bump into her, don’t even see her, and… that’s just fine with you, is it?’
‘Baby –’
‘No! I get to speak now. I get to be the one to tell those home truths you so loved to hand out. Going on about which people were important. How those who sparkled were loveable, and the invisible ones like me didn’t matter at all. I have a family who love me, okay? I matter to them. I have a dad who gave up his job the minute he realized I existed and moved to live near me so he could get to know me. I have an aunt who waited up every night whilst I went out partying to try to forget the fact that you got married again and didn’t tell me, or you were caught cheating with that PR guy, or you re-released ‘Baby Don’t Ask Me to Stay’ and talked about how emotional it was to say goodbye to people.’ My voice cracked but I was determined to say my piece. ‘I had to sit on the sidelines and watch your life through the tabloids. And you never even called me to see how my life was going.’
‘Sav, I – I called Jen! I spoke to Jen about you! We spoke on the phone when you were a kid…’ she tried again, reaching out a hand, and at least I knew she was truly listening now, truly seeing me, that look of horror in her eyes getting wider. Though whether that was over what she’d done or the fact that I was probably costing her a fortune in lost meditation sessions, I couldn’t tell.
‘How much time has passed? Do you even know what year it is, how old I am?’ I yelped. ‘You abandoned me, without a backwards glance, and wrote a song about leaving me behind. Do you know what it’s like, having your worst memory follow you around from place to place? I mean, people play it at fucking weddings, for God’s sake! A song about never being capable of staying! It’s ludicrous! And you know what? So are you.’
I took a breath, clenching my fists as I held her gaze. ‘Leaving me behind was the best thing you ever did, because Jen was a better mother than you could ever have been. You’re a selfish, shallow narcissist and I’m only here because for once in my life I want you to see me. I’m tired of being some ghost that you write songs about and never bother with. I won’t be your ghost any more. Have a nice life, Persephone Black.’
I turned on my heel, striding blindly down the corridor, back straight, head held high. My heart was thumping erratically, and I could feel my fingers tingling. I didn’t know if I’d achieved anything, but I felt better. I felt like I was seeing everything in colour once again,
I lifted my head high as I walked straight out onto the bustling streets of Kensington, where no one would believe that I’d just told rock-and-roll superstar Persephone Black to go to hell.
* * *
‘Sav, I just…’ Mia whined down the phone as I put my make-up on. ‘I’m tired. I’ve worked all day, my dad’s just been on at me. Can’t we just go watch a movie in a dark room?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Mia, today I confronted my mother and finally told her to go to hell. I deserve a drink with my best friend.’
‘Can’t we just go to the Trouserleg, as usual?’
‘No, because this is not usual. Plus, there are so many wonderful places to go!’ Being part of the Restaurateur Club had opened my eyes. And sure, it wouldn’t last forever, just until Alba felt sure her recommendations were doing well, but it had made me want to explore more.
‘Fine, but I’m grouchy about it.’
I grinned. ‘That’s fine. Meet you at the station at eight.’
I felt light, free, energized. I stood in front of the mirror, and instead of the usual slump, turning this way and that as I listed all the things wrong with my poor body, I stood up straight and smiled. My eyes were bright, the pink tips of my bleach-blonde hair were fierce. I put on the corset I wore to work, a commissioned piece that Charlotte had given to me when I told her how wonderful it was. I’d watched wearing it while she performed on stage, then later that night she handed it over, standing there in her hoody and jeans like I hadn’t just seen her body undulating in a way that made most people’s jaws drop. She’d shrugged and handed it over. ‘Sorry, it’s covered in glitter.’
‘You want me to wash it?’ I’d asked, still holding my hand out.
She snorted and pushed my arm. ‘I want you to have it! It’ll suit you better. And Bel will ease up on you if you look the part behind the bar.’ She winked at me and strode off.
Every time I wore it I felt powerful. It was almost a waste to wear it only for work.
The corset was subtle, black with a bronze underlay and turquoise detail. I wore it with my black jeans and heels and a black fitted blazer. I felt like I was going to walk on stage at the Martini Club and bare my soul, and that was okay. I had a glass of wine with Jen in the kitchen, dancing to my music as I put on my make-up in a tiny mirror by the sink, blowing a kiss at her as I added a second layer of lipstick.
‘Looks like you’re back, baby!’ She bumped my hip with hers, and kissed my cheek.
‘I don’t remember the last time I felt like this.’
‘Happy?’
‘Alive!’ I grinned, dancing to some ’90s hip hop and watching as Jen tried to nod along to the rhythm, before shaking her head. I switched the music to something friendlier and she smiled at me.
‘How are you feeling about speaking to your mother?’ Jen asked gently, her eyes rounded in concern. ‘I was surprised not to get a call accusing me of brainwashing you.’
I exhaled, pouting slightly in the mirror as I checked my lipstick. ‘I did what I needed to do. And I feel like a weight has lifted.’
‘You don’t feel sad?’
‘Why would I feel sad?’
Jen paused. ‘Because… she’s your mother.’
‘I… I’m not sure she is, really,’ I said airily, as if I’d never thought about it before. ‘I think you have to earn that title. Pushing something out of your special place doesn’t make you a mother.’
‘Nope, makes you a saint,’ she snorted, ‘or a warrior. Or a cog in a biological joke of a game.’
‘Jen,’ I huffed, ‘I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about her any more. What are you up to tonight?’
She acknowledged the change of topic. ‘Your dad’s picking me up in a bit for the cinema. Now that’s a nice colour lippie – you think I could pull that off?’
I handed it over, watching as she puckered her lips and smudged the colour.
‘You and dad go out often?’ I asked lightly.
She shrugged. ‘Sometimes. It’s nice to have someone to go to the pictures with.’
‘What are you going to see?’
Jen shook her head, looking back at me from the mirror, ‘Oh, you know, that one with that fella, who’s in that thing on the telly? Your dad picked it. I figure he comes to my dancing, the least I can do is keep him company watching some silly film where people shoot each other every five bloody minutes.’
I paused. ‘Jen, is something going on here?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying you’re going on dates with Dad.’
She rounded on me then, those soft eyes suddenly irritated. ‘Savannah, me and your dad have been going to the cinema every fortnight for the last ten years. Just because you’re home to notice things doesn’t mean anything strange is going on. Your dad’s been my best friend for years. Leave things be, won’t you?’
‘I’m not –’
‘You are! You’re being difficult and causing problems!’ Jen frowned, rubbing the lipstick from her lips.
‘There’s no problem!’ I held up my hands. ‘I’m just saying if you were dating Dad, there wouldn’t be a problem! It would – you know – be okay.’
‘Be okay!’ she snorted. ‘The press would have a day with that one! The father of Persephone Black’s child moves on to her sister! Pshaw!’
‘But…’
‘No, Savannah.’ I knew that tone, one of certainty. ‘No. Quiet now. Go and have a lovely night, and leave me to my life.’ She smiled at me to so
ften the blow. ‘My lovely, simple, uncomplicated life.’
I left her sitting in the kitchen, the tube of lipstick swirling between her fingertips as I flounced out of the front door in my ballet pumps, my heels safely in my handbag. I met Mia at the station, wearing a little black dress and looking like a million dollars. She yawned and smiled at me.
‘Okay then, let’s get messed up!’ She linked arms with me and we stamped up the stairs to the train, giggly with anticipation.
We jumped to the front of the queue at Dino, walking straight through to the back where the music was already thumping. My new haughty attitude seemed to offer advantages. If you act like you deserve special treatment, and you’re not horrible about it, you seem to get it. It was a revelation.
All I wanted was to drink and dance and laugh, roll my head back and throw my arms up. I didn’t want to identify the flavours in the drinks, just like I didn’t want to hear the melodies in the music or listen to the conversation of the arty boys who gave us cigarettes we didn’t smoke in the garden area. I wanted to be numb and dumb and joyous, and that’s what I was, arms around my best friend as we swayed on the dance floor, laughing and spilling our drinks, sticky over our fingers.
I watched the bartender making drinks, and thought that he was in no way as pretty or talented as Milo, and suggested he should add some theatre to his performance. He looked at me with barely contained irritation. ‘I’ll work on that,’ he said. ‘That’s 30.25.’
‘For two drinks – are you having a fucking laugh?’ Mia hooted, and I rolled my eyes, handing over the cash.
‘I need to go discover things!’ Mia yelled in my ear, wiggling her hips as we backed towards the dance floor again.
‘I’m sure there’s a few men over there who wouldn’t resist,’ I laughed, and she pushed me, stumbling a little.
‘Not penises! Artefacts!’
‘So… you’re looking for someone older?’ I stuck out my tongue and she frowned, shaking her head like a petulant child.