by Nancy Barone
‘Not really. Mum was never one to take pictures.’ Except she took loads of Yolanda, but I wasn’t going there. It was time to forgive and forget, especially now that she was so vulnerable. She probably didn’t remember a thing now, anyway. What good would it have done to rake over the coals?
I picked up and oldie but goodie. ‘This is Yolanda and me at Christmas when we were little. My dad had just given us a doll’s house each.’
‘Look at you two, so sweet.’
I snorted. ‘Don’t let the blue eyes fool you. And this is Sarah and Lizzie at Christmas with their new doll’s house. I had always dreamed of giving them mine but—’ I bit my lip.
He looked up from the picture and I began to heat up under his scrutinising gaze. ‘But…?’
I shrugged. ‘Mum gave it away to Mrs Locke, her neighbour.’
Connor’s eyebrows shot up.
Ancient, unshed tears pricked my eyes but I managed to harness them at the last second. ‘I was mad at her for weeks.’
‘You really loved it, didn’t you?’
I nodded and swallowed down the tiny pebbles in my throat. ‘My dad had made it for me.’ And I thought of everything I’d had to give up after he died – my collection of Beatrix Potter, my rag doll Nettie. All sold to put food on the table and because I’d had to grow up fast.
‘Oh,’ I said, laughing it off. ‘Look at this – Lizzie on her first birthday! Look how beautiful she is…’
Connor peered into the picture, studying it. ‘She looks just like you.’
‘She’s very like me on the inside, too.’
‘You mean kind and generous?’
‘I mean a free spirit. Never worried about appearances too much… And you? What’s your relationship like with your family?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em. I adore them, especially my mam. She’s the number one in my life.’
So no other woman, after all? I’d wondered about his reasons for being in Wyllow Cove, and that maybe there was a woman on his mind.
‘Do you miss her?’
‘Like crazy. I miss them all, especially Old Mary – my mam. But we talk every Sunday afternoon. She fills me in on all the happenings at home. My sister-in-law Celia is expecting again. They’d been trying for almost two years now.’
‘That’s so lovely! Then I guess you’ll be going back for the birth. How… long will you be staying here in Wyllow Cove?’
His long lashes fluttered. ‘As long as it takes.’
‘To…? Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘To sort my life out.’
‘And how is that going, if you don’t mind me asking?’
His eyes narrowed and then he grinned enigmatically. ‘I’d say it’s going preeeetty well at the moment.’
Ah. Meaning he wasn’t letting me in on his little secret.
‘And who’s this gorgeous little girl?’ he asked, singling out a picture of me standing on the cliffs.
‘I remember that day,’ I said. ‘My father had taken Yolanda and me on a picnic. Actually, not far from here. I remember him teaching us to fly a kite.’
‘You still miss your dad greatly, don’t you?’ he asked softly.
‘Yeah. I was my daddy’s girl. I miss him every day.’
‘But at least you had some good years with him, right?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I did. I looked up to him. There was nothing he couldn’t or wouldn’t do for us. He made our lives… secure. Stable, you know?’
He looked into my eyes as if studying me. ‘Just like you with Amy and Zoe.’
‘Yes, well. I’m all they have at the moment. But I, uhm, noticed that they really listen to you, too. They seem to quarrel much less ever since you moved in.’
He grinned. ‘Really? I have that effect on my own nieces and nephews too.’
‘My sister could have taken them with her, but we believe living here in Wyllow Cove is certainly a more stable life for them. But who says it’s a better life?’
At that, he smiled. ‘A simple life is always a better life.’
Oh, how much better my own life would be if you only realised I existed, Connor. But that was a completely different story, somewhere in between the realms of fantasy and science fiction. Because men like him weren’t interested in women like me.
*
The next day I got another call from Lady magazine. Two calls in the space of a week was definitely not good. Octavia must have decided she wouldn’t be spoken to like I had spoken to her.
‘Natalia, Octavia here. I’ll need that article sooner than we discussed.’
‘Oh?’ I hadn’t even decided what it was going to be about, let alone started it, what with being busy with my mother. How was I going to slap together my job-saving attempt out of the blue?
‘I want a special edition coming out to mark my takeover. And to announce my new and rejuvenated agenda.’
Oh, how she loved to flaunt that word!
‘So I’ll need it on my desk by the end of tomorrow.’
‘So soon? But—’
‘No buts, Natalia. If you can’t do it, I’ll just have to find somebody else.’ Pause for drama.
‘I’ll do it, of course, Octavia.’ Even if it killed me, I’d do it.
‘Good woman. This will either make or break you.’
Hm. How to explain to her that writing a successful column for thirteen years and still going strong meant that I had made it to where I wanted to be? I didn’t want much more, except for maybe a double-page feature. That would have been nice. ‘Got it. You’ll have it by the end of tomorrow.’
‘Make it four o’clock.’
Jesus. ‘Right.’
I hung up, wondering just how I was going to pull that one off in so little time. Mum needed round-the-clock care now, meaning shower, setting her hair in rollers, then styling it every single morning and then getting her dressed and then making her breakfast just to start. And that was before the twins even got up and I’d have to ferry them off to school. But the time I actually got a cup of coffee down my own throat and sat down at my laptop it would be at least nine thirty going on ten. Meaning I didn’t have much time to pull a masterpiece article out of my hat. But I was all she had, and I was not going to fail her.
‘You okay, Mum?’ I asked, getting up from my desk.
‘Of course I’m okay, why do you ask?’ she asked back.
‘Because I love you,’ I said, sitting on the edge of her armchair and hugging her gently.
Which was more than I could have ever said about her. She was the exact opposite of a normal mother. At least for me. While she had been ever-present in Yolanda’s life, she had missed all the major milestones in mine – my confirmation, my graduation, and even on my wedding day she was late for the ceremony. Dad had smiled uneasily making feeble excuses.
After that, she’d missed Sarah’s christening, so after Dad’s death, I didn’t even bother to invite her to Lizzie’s. Which had caused a storm.
‘What have I ever done to you?’ she’d cried. ‘Why didn’t you invite your own mother?’
‘Because you wouldn’t have come!’ I’d shot back. ‘You miss everything that’s important in my life! You missed my wedding, my graduation – but you didn’t even miss a hair appointment when it was regarding Yolanda!’
Her mouth had dropped open. ‘You’re jealous of your baby sister? I can’t believe this, you, of all people?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean: me of all people?’
‘You have had the treatment of a lifetime! I’ve made so many sacrifices for you above all people.’
‘Oh, you mean, losing your figure? Were you so embarrassed you didn’t even take one picture?’ Had I been such a burden to her that she hadn’t even wanted to remember it? But when she’d been pregnant with Yolanda, there had been all sorts of happy pictures, mostly colour ones, and some even blown up and displayed around the cottage in old silver frames. Even now it was still a shr
ine to Yolanda and her success as a celebrity chef, whereas I don’t ever recall her making any comments about my writing career.
And now she was here, in the home of the very daughter she’d shunned, while her favourite one traipsed around the world, bouncing from one shooting set to another with her famous smile, oblivious to any filial responsibilities, whereas I never got a break. And still, I did it with constant love.
‘Are you working on your next column?’ she asked out of nowhere, her eyes now lucid.
It felt so strange to just be like this all of a sudden, when for years neither of us had ever had much to say to the other. Apparently we were entering a good phase again. ‘I am.’
‘And what’s it about?’
I smiled. This was just lovely. ‘I’m not quite sure yet. But it has to be good and ready by tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Maybe you could write about motherhood. Lady magazine readers are mostly mothers.’
I studied her. Not only was she being kind and attentive, she was giving me what to her was good advice. She had no way of knowing that things had changed since last month’s edition had come out and she had been a completely different person, as sharp as a razor. And the last thing I wanted was to share my worries with her.
‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Are you hungry yet?’
She shook her head. ‘I think I’ll read while you finish your article.’
‘Okay, then,’ I said and sat down, arranging my stuff around me just the way I liked it – mug to my right, pad of paper and coloured pens, my mobile on my left along with my family pictures. Ah, the life of a writer. If it could only be as easy as it looked. By the head shot above my column you’d think I was this successful, happy woman without a care in the world. Little did anyone know that it all came at a huge cost, and even now, as a result, I had only hours to save my career.
And just as I was settling into writing, the biggest distraction of my life came down the stairs for the second time that day. Every single time I sat down at my desk, he went to work in the garden. Coincidence?
‘Hey Beryl!’ he called as he went past us. ‘My, you’re looking younger and younger every day!’
At that, Mum chuckled. ‘Go on with you, lad! You’re just teasin’ a poor old lady!’
He stopped in the middle of the room, hands on hips, a mock-hurt expression on his face. ‘Now would I ever do that to the love of my life? Would I, Beryl?’
But Mum chuckled even harder, slapping her hand against her armrest. ‘You listening to this, Nat? Isn’t he a charmer?’
‘He absolutely is.’ I smiled at him, feeling my face go beetroot red and diving behind the screen of my laptop.
He pushed his hair away from his face. ‘I needed a screen break, so I thought I’d continue on the fences. Is that okay?’
Did he mean, would I rather watch him than stare at my own blank laptop screen? He actually needed to ask?
‘Knock yourself out.’
‘Cool. Girls get off to school okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes. And Sarah will be late as she’s had to go into London.’
‘I hate London with a passion,’ Connor said. ‘Nothing but pushing and shoving, seemingly mitigated with a sorry that actually means out of my way. Not for me.’
‘I used to live in London,’ Mum said.
I sat up. ‘I didn’t know that.’
She shrugged. ‘It was a terrible time. Yer dad was workin’ as a baker and I was sewing to make a few bob. But we both realised that we could make a better go of it here at home. So we both quit, and with a little help from our families, we opened the bakery. The freshest, most fragrant bread you ever tasted.’ And then she pointed the remote to her TV set, a sign that the conversation was over.
I nodded. It had been very good, I remembered. With a pang in my heart. Oh, Dad.
Connor stopped at my desk on his way out. ‘Working on your next article?’ he asked.
‘Yes. And hopefully not my last.’
He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You remember me telling you that my boss gave me an article to write?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Well, she’s brought my deadline forward and if I can’t demonstrate that I can be as hip as a twenty-year-old, I’m out.’
He crossed his arms. ‘She can’t do that – it’s illegal.’
‘Not if she’s giving me a chance to write like she wants. She says it has nothing to do with age. And I’ve got until tomorrow to write the article that will save my career.’
‘Bloody hell.’
Mum cackled, now absorbed in her favourite morning show. ‘You idiot,’ she said. ‘No Italian has ever cooked a chicken like that!’
Connor glanced at her, then turned back to me. ‘So what are you going to do?’
I shrugged. ‘No idea.’
‘Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you, Nat.’
‘Awh, thanks, Connor.’
‘If you need legal advice, I know a good guy.’
‘Thanks, Connor. One day I hope to make all your kindness up to you.’
‘You’re grand. Now, if you’ll excuse me, those bushes aren’t going to tend themselves.’
I nodded and watched him as he sauntered down the length of the garden and immediately absorbed himself in his work. He was unfathomable. One day he seemed interested in me, and the next, he treated me like a good friend. Which was it? And if he was a good friend, how could I ruin it by intimating I wanted a fling? Because now, I wasn’t so sure a fling would have been enough for me.
As if sensing my thoughts, he looked up and grinned that boyish grin of his, then turned back to his work.
Work, right. But I kept getting distracted every time he bent down or reached up to hammer the posts in. At one point, he reached into his pocket for something and pulled back his hair into a tiny ponytail, revealing a strong jaw and neck. He was truly beautiful beyond words. And speaking of words, I should really have been getting back to the ones – or the lack of them – on my screen.
But before I really got stuck into it, I had to tell Yolanda about Mum’s condition. I’d been putting it off for weeks, lying to her, telling her that everything was okay, and even vetoing the twins from mentioning it during their video chats.
Not wanting Mum to hear, I picked up my mobile, closed the French doors behind me and sat at the patio table.
It was early in New York, but Yolanda was always up at four to shoot. I only hoped she would answer her phone.
‘Nat?’ came her voice across the Atlantic. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Hello,’ I said, trying to sound cheery, but not too much as to deceive her. Just enough so she wouldn’t worry about the girls. ‘Everything’s fine. The girls are at school.’
‘So what’s up? Because if you’ve called to nag me about coming home—’
‘Yolanda – Mum has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Neil and I took her to a specialist. It’s in its early stages, but it’s definitely coming.’
A silence followed, but I couldn’t tell how much of it was part of the technical delay, and how much was shock.
‘Oh my God! Is she okay? Is she lucid?’
‘She is at the moment, but it comes and goes, you know? One minute she’s discussing the shopping list with me and the next…’ I swallowed, raking a hand through my hair. I spared her the fact that Mum had at one point actually said, Who’s Yolanda? That would break her heart and worry her no end.
‘Oh my God, Nat. You must be overwhelmed with the girls as well. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Sarah and Connor are helping out a lot.’
‘The lodger, you mean? He sounds like he’s becoming practically indispensable.’
‘He is, trust me. The girls love him to pieces and would suffer terribly without him. And he helps a great deal with Mum, too.’
‘Okay, I guess that’s her best option for now.’
‘Also, I think it’s a good idea to put her cottage up for sale as soon as I ca
n get it all organised,’ I said.
‘The cottage? You can’t! It was our home for years!’
‘Yola, maybe I didn’t make myself clear. She’s not going to be getting any better.’
‘But to sell the house? Why?’
‘To pay for her medical expenses?’
‘You’re not putting her in a home, are you?’
‘Of course not,’ I said hotly.
‘Good. Because at the end of the day, you’ve already got the girls. What harm could one more person do?’
I sighed. Of course she was clueless about caring for the elderly, particularly the fragile elderly, when she had no idea of what her own daughters needed.
‘Yola, I said I would take care of Mum. But never for a moment think that it’ll be easy, financially speaking.’
‘And you’re already complaining. Jesus, Nat, what do you want from me?’
‘A bit of understanding.’
‘Just because I don’t want you to sell our family home?’ she bit off.
I raked a hand through my hair again. At this rate I’d be bald by the end of the day. ‘Look, Yolanda, I’m under a lot of pressure right now and I really don’t want to argue.’
‘Why, what else is wrong?’
Any other sister would have shared her fears and anxieties, but I was well aware of the fact that Yolanda only pretended to want to know. As soon as I’d open my mouth, her mind would start to wander to something else. Because no matter what I did for her, how much I encouraged her, et cetera. Yola and I would never be close, because we never really had been, which was sad. Our mother had always pitched us against each other by comparing us, and I was seldom the one who came out on top.
‘Nothing, Yola, don’t worry about it.’
Luckily I was my own person, but I couldn’t deny that my insecurities were childhood-deep. So I did everything I could to make sure that I hadn’t made the same mistake with Sarah and Lizzie. And I’d be damned if I would let the same thing happen between Amy and Zoe.
I also wondered why I’d even bothered telling Yola about Mum. There was nothing she could do, except for aggravate me.
‘In any case, the money would go into her bank account to pay for everything she needs.’ I certainly couldn’t afford to pay out of my own pocket anymore. I was barely surviving, what with the huge grocery bills I ran for such a packed house and Connor’s rent was more than warranted.