by Sarah Morgan
Did her mother even remember she’d been ill?
“Come and sit down, Martha.” Kathleen rummaged in her file and brought out some pictures. “What do you know about Route 66?”
“I studied The Grapes of Wrath at school, so I know about the people escaping the Dust Bowl in the 1930s, traveling from the Midwest to the California coast. Route 66. The Mother Road. Hated the book as a child, but I’ve reread it five times since then and it’s one of my favorites. Weird how school can put you off something, instead of inspiring you. Apart from that,” Martha pondered, “I know the road was decommissioned and replaced by the interstate, but presumably you want to stick to the historic Route 66 wherever we can?”
“I do.” Kathleen looked delighted. “My dream is to rent a classic Ford Mustang and travel in style, but then I thought maybe I’m too old for that.”
Finally, Liza thought. Some common sense on display.
Kathleen continued. “Instead I’ve decided that we’ll rent the fanciest, most up-to-date Mustang convertible available. With air-conditioning of course, because when we reach Needles, on the state line between Arizona and California, the temperatures will be hot enough to roast a hog.”
A Mustang convertible?
Martha leaned over the pictures, her curls tumbling forward. “We’d look cool, but we’d be boiling to death?”
“Exactly.” Kathleen was charmed. “It’s a sub-tropical desert climate, with huge thunderstorms during the hot summer.”
Liza couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I assumed you’d rent a safe, modern SUV.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Kathleen was studying the map. “I read an article that said as long as you drive early in the morning, you can avoid the heat of the day. Can you travel light, Martha? There’s not a lot of room for luggage.”
“Wait—” Liza interrupted. “You’re basically hiring a sports car?”
“It will be fun for Martha.”
Liza thought she saw a flash terror in Martha’s eyes, but decided she was probably seeing a reflection of her own emotions.
“What if you break down?”
“What if we don’t? And anyway, the company said there was a number we could call. With luck they might send a hot guy for Martha.” Kathleen winked at Martha, who laughed.
“If we break down in the desert, we’ll all be hot.”
“This sounds like such fun I’m tempted to hide away in the back seat,” Sean said and Liza wondered why it was left to her to ask the important questions.
“But you can drive, Martha? The minimum age to rent a car in the US is twenty-five.”
“I was twenty five last month.”
She looked younger. Liza resisted the temptation to ask if she could check her birth certificate. “And you don’t mind being away for half the summer?”
“Thank you, Liza.” Her mother gestured to the map. “Come and take a look, Martha. Exciting, isn’t it?”
“Very.” Martha leaned closer. “I’ve been studying the route. I can’t wait to see the Grand Canyon.”
“Me too.” Kathleen urged Martha to sit down. “I will take care of all expenses of course. You won’t have to pay for a thing.”
What if the girl had extravagant tastes and wanted to order a massive steak in every restaurant or diner?
“Mum—”
“Are you able to be flexible? Because although we will book a few places along the way, I’d like to give ourselves time to be spontaneous. Stay longer if we feel like it. Move on if we don’t.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go where no one can find us.” Martha blushed. “I mean, it sounds exciting, that’s all. And I can sleep anywhere.”
Liza frowned. Why would she want to go where no one could find her?
“I’m planning on taking two weeks to do the trip, perhaps more, and then spending a few weeks in California. I’ll be away for a month at least.” Kathleen folded the map. “What date do you have to be home?”
“I don’t have to be home at all. I can stay forever if that’s what works for you.”
Forever? What sort of person could stay away forever?
Did she have nothing going on in her life at all?
Liza’s frustration turned to suspicion. Something about this didn’t feel right.
And what about the practicalities? Visas? Immigration?
“Do you have family, Martha?”
“Yes.” Martha took a mug of tea from Sean with a smile of thanks. “I live with my parents and my sister because I’m in between jobs right now.”
“What was your last job?” Liza ignored her mother’s exaggerated sigh.
“I worked in an animal shelter. I’ve been looking at millions of things, but there aren’t any jobs right now.”
“If we could have the details of your last employer, that would be good. We need references.”
Kathleen put the map away. “References won’t be necessary.” She stood up. “Tell me what you love most about driving, Martha.”
“The best part is when I reach my destination and I’m still alive. That’s always a cause for celebration. Not an alcoholic celebration though, obviously.” Martha gave a burst of laughter, and Sean and Kathleen joined in.
Liza breathed deeply. “What about accidents?”
Martha took a sip of tea. “Just the one. No casualties, although I took a chunk out of my dad’s affection for me.”
“I had three accidents in my first year of driving,” Kathleen said. “Accidents teach one to drive more carefully.”
Unless they killed you.
Liza forced a smile. “I expect you want to ask about qualifications?”
“Ah yes. Qualifications.” Kathleen looked Martha in the eye. “Can you make a good cup of tea? I’m partial to Earl Grey.”
“I make the best tea,” Martha said. “Before the animal shelter, I worked in a café.”
“Then you’re perfectly qualified for the job,” Kathleen said. “I can tell we’re going to get along famously. The job is yours, if you’re happy to spend your summer with a badly behaved octogenarian who has an annoying tendency never to do as she’s told.” Kathleen glanced at Liza with a twinkle in her eye and Martha smiled.
“I never do as I’m told either. My mother says I’ll be the death of her.”
Perfect, Liza thought. Two irresponsible people together. What could possibly go wrong?
Martha must have recognized that Liza was the one who needed to be won over because she leaned forward. “I promise to take good care of your mother.”
“Thank you.” Liza could hardly argue with her enthusiasm or intention, even if the reality promised to be somewhat different. “What will your parents think of you flying to America for the summer?”
“They’ll be thrilled I’ve got a job.”
That response did nothing to reassure Liza, but Kathleen stood up.
“That’s settled then. Do you have a passport?”
“Yes.” Martha nodded. “I went on a school trip to Italy in my final year of school and it’s still valid.”
Liza was scrolling through the facts in her head.
How many twenty-five year olds would choose to drop everything to drive across America with an eighty-year-old? Why wasn’t Martha spending the summer with her friends, or a boyfriend?
Something wasn’t adding up, but it was too late because her mother was already rummaging in a drawer for the envelope where she kept her cash.
“I’m going to give you some money now so that you can equip yourself ready for the trip.” Kathleen opened a drawer. “I hope you don’t mind not having a bank transfer. I don’t like the idea of my money moving around in space. All you have to do is type one number incorrectly and suddenly you’ve handed over your life savings.”
“Whatever works for you, Mrs. Harrison. B
ut what do you need me to buy? If you make me a list, then I can go and buy whatever you need. Tea?”
“You can leave the tea to me. This is for your personal items. You’ll need comfortable clothes for driving. A soft bag that will squash into a small space. Sunglasses so that we both look cool when we’re driving our cool car. A scarf to stop your lovely curls blowing across your face as we’re speeding along the highway? A couple of dresses?”
Martha tugged at her T-shirt. “I’m more of a jeans girl, but thank you. That’s generous. Are you sure?”
“If I’m expecting you to drive two thousand four hundred miles then the least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable doing it.” Kathleen handed over a thick wad of cash. “Ignore Liza’s frown. My daughter is careful about everything.”
What was wrong with being careful? Since when was it a sin to be reliable?
Where was the virtue in throwing off responsibility giving no thought to others?
Liza felt a hot stinging behind her eyes.
Never mind that she’d spent every other weekend in Cornwall since her mother’s “incident”. Never mind that she’d had little time with her own crumbling family.
None of her efforts had brought her closer to her mother and they never would.
Hurt, she gave a brief smile and walked to the door. “I’m going for a walk. Nice to meet you, Martha. Enjoy the trip.” She almost felt sorry for Martha, who was so smiley and optimistic. Whatever her reasons for agreeing to this, Liza was confident she had no idea what she was letting herself in for. And as for the promise to keep Kathleen safe—well, good luck with that.
Suddenly she badly wanted to go home. Maybe they’d leave after breakfast tomorrow, instead of waiting until lunchtime as planned. She’d make a nice supper for the girls. They’d eat as a family.
As she and Sean walked across the fields to the beach, Liza breathed slowly and deeply. It was beautiful, but she couldn’t ever properly relax here. Part of relaxing was being able to leave all the jobs behind, and here in Oakwood Cottage there were far too many jobs glaring at her. Future complications loomed. Her mother falling. The house crumbling.
Sean stooped to pick up a shell from the sand. “Martha seems great.”
“Mmm.” She watched the waves break onto the shore. She’d always felt a sense of responsibility. Even as a child, she’d felt it. She’d cooked for her father and tried to make up for her mother’s many absences.
Sean looped his arm round her shoulders and tried to kiss her, but she eased away and strolled forward along the beach. She was still upset, and she couldn’t so easily flip the switch from irritation and hurt to affection. His thoughtless words had created a barrier between them and she didn’t know how to reach across it. For her, sex was closely tied to emotion. She’d never been the type to use sex as a way of making up after a fight. She had to feel loved and nurtured, and right now she felt neither.
Sean caught up with her. “I know you’re upset. But that’s your mother being your mother.”
It wasn’t only her mother who had upset her, but this wasn’t the time to have such an important conversation. She was tired and hurt and didn’t trust her own feelings.
They walked together in awkward silence and by the time they returned to the house, Martha was gone.
While Sean called the girls, Liza threw together a selection of summer salads, tearing fresh basil leaves over mozzarella, adding toasted almonds to green beans as she half listened to the conversation.
“Everything quiet there, Caitlin?” Sean reached past Liza and stole an olive. “House still standing? No calls to the emergency services... What?... Yes, of course I’m joking.” He gave Liza a look that said, You see? I’m checking on them. “Make sure you lock up properly before you go to bed. And check you haven’t left the freezer door open.”
Liza sprinkled chopped garlic over baby tomatoes, red onion and peppers and put them in the oven to roast.
“That smells good.” Sean hung up. “The twins sound fine. They’re having a quiet night in and all is well.”
“What about the party?”
“You told them they couldn’t go.”
“Since when did anyone listen to me?” Liza sliced a sourdough loaf and pulled butter out of the fridge.
“They obviously are listening to you.”
She felt guilty for not being as trusting as he was. “Did you talk to Alice?”
“No. Why?”
Because she wasn’t as good a liar as her sister.
Caitlin was very much the dominant one.
“Nothing. Ignore me.”
Why didn’t she feel reassured? It was that look Caitlin had given her before she’d left the house. The yes Mum, that didn’t mean yes at all.
These were her children. She loved them more than anything. She should trust them too. She was never going to heal the relationship unless there was trust involved. She was going to be more like Sean, and always assume the best and not the worst.
“Thank you for checking. I appreciate it.” She kissed Sean on the cheek and took the glass of wine he offered.
The first sip was bliss, like tasting sunshine in a glass. Some of the tension left her.
They ate dinner outside, watching the sun dip over the fields and the ocean in the distance.
Popeye appeared, as he so often did when there was food to be had.
They talked about the trip, and Liza talked about the summer plans for France, and carefully resisted all temptation to urge her mother to be careful.
She closed her eyes, savoring the wine and the sunshine until the air grew chilly. When the sky darkened, she cleared the plates into the kitchen and Kathleen headed for bed.
Liza had the feeling she would have been as happy to be alone.
It was clear that her mother was frustrated by her attempts to be caring, and Liza didn’t know how not to care.
“We should have an early night too,” she said to Sean. “All that sea air has made me tired.”
Feeling isolated and unappreciated, she took ages in the bathroom and was relieved to find Sean already asleep when she eventually slid into bed next to him.
It took a long time for her to fall asleep but eventually she did and she was dreaming of the South of France when Sean’s phone rang.
He groped for it in the dark and Liza switched on the light, heart pounding.
“Is it the girls?”
He focused on the screen. “No, it’s Margaret and Peter from next door. Why on earth would they be calling in the middle of the night?” He sat up and answered the phone. “Margaret? Yes—don’t worry about that—” He listened and rubbed his hand over his face. “You’re kidding—oh no—”
“What?” Liza mouthed the question but he shook his head and held up his hand.
“All I can do is apologize... Yes, absolutely. We’ll leave now, but it will take four hours to get home. Of course you called the police—I understand.”
“Police?” Liza, who didn’t understand at all, was frantic. “What is going on?”
“Yes, Liza and I will be dealing with them I can assure you.” Sean finally hung up and swore under his breath. “We need to leave.”
“Is it the twins? Did they have an accident?”
“No, they had a party.” Sean’s expression was grim as he threw their clothes into the overnight bag. “They’ve wrecked our house and, it seems, broken our neighbors’ dining room window and destroyed their precious herbaceous borders. We have to go home.”
6
KATHLEEN
Two weeks later Kathleen sat clutching her bag on her lap as Liza drove her to the airport.
She felt old, but that was what two nights with teenagers could do for you.
Was it wrong to feel relieved that part of her trip was over? She was starting to understand why Liza looked drain
ed the whole time.
Liza gave her a wan smile. “Sorry. It wasn’t the most relaxing stay.”
“It was a treat to see the girls.” Kathleen forced herself to lie, a challenge for someone who believed in speaking the truth. It seemed the polite thing to do, even though they both knew that the twins had been a nightmare. They’d behaved delightfully to her of course—Granny! It’s great to see you—and appallingly to their mother—We could all go out for a nice family dinner but Mum’s taken away all the fun in our lives.
Given the level of hostility, Kathleen admired her daughter for sticking to the sanctions she’d imposed. In the same situation she doubted she would have been so resolute. But Liza had always been an easy child, so discipline of any sort had been unnecessary.
What a horrid, conflict-ridden, joyless world her daughter was inhabiting.
“No internet, no TV, no phone, for a month.” Caitlin had stomped around the kitchen. “It’s an infringement of my human rights.”
Alice, a conflict avoider, had covered her ears and left the room.
Liza had stayed calm. “It was an infringement of our neighbors’ rights when you kept them awake, broke a window and destroyed half the plants on their border.”
“That wasn’t my fault.” Caitlin was mutinous. “I’m not responsible for other people’s actions.”
“You are when they are guests in your home.”
“They weren’t guests! I didn’t even know them. And taking everything away is—is—it’s medieval. Granny, tell her it’s medieval.”
“Nothing about your life is medieval.” Kathleen had tried to stay impartial. “In medieval times you probably wouldn’t have survived to teenage years. Infant mortality was alarmingly high.”
“Are you saying you never had a party when you were our age?”
Oh dear. “Yes, I suppose—”