Chapter 12 #2
“Simple answer? My mother is the sort of person you don’t want to disappoint.
It has always been the two of us—we have no relatives.
I admire her, I really do. More than anyone else I know.
She’s strong, capable and clever and she can be intimidating, but I always remind myself she had a tough time when she was young.
What she has achieved is nothing short of incredible. ” She stopped.
She was doing it again. Justifying. Making excuses.
Why did she keep doing that? And she realised with a flash of regret and panic that she’d said far, far too much.
Now he was going to start questioning her about her mother’s achievements and she was going to have to dodge around the subject the way she did whenever the subject was raised by anyone at the hotel.
Fortunately, he didn’t.
“So you’re pretty close.”
She liked to think she and her mother were close, but were they? Really? It was slowly dawning on her that there was a great deal she didn’t know about her mother. She had so many questions but there was no point in asking them because her mother was always evasive.
Whenever she asked about that early period in her mother’s life, she brushed the questions aside.
It doesn’t matter what went before, she’d always told Abby. It has no relevance to the present.
But that wasn’t true, was it?
Because she was pretty sure that her presence here had something to do with her mother’s past history.
“We’re not close in an emotional sense. I don’t think my mother is capable of that.
And I understand, I really do. Her dad walked out when she was eleven leaving her to care for her sick mother—I mean, what kind of guy does that?
And then my dad died before I was born—I think she figured out that it’s safer to do things alone.
She’s never had anyone she can rely on. No one to lean on.
I have always felt a responsibility to be reliable and exactly what she wants.
I was determined to be the one person who never disappointed her.
But she even keeps me at a distance.” She thought of her mother saying rely on yourself, Abby, not other people.
It sounded good in theory, but in practice it was a lonely way to be.
She had no family other than her mother and no real friends.
Until now. “Sorry, that was far too much information. I’m embarrassed. ”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t need to hear any of this.”
“Don’t apologise. It’s good to know you’re human.”
“You don’t think I’m human?” The tension was slowly releasing its grip on her. She realised she probably should have had something to eat along with the wine, which had already gone to her head. A warm, relaxed feeling was slowly spreading through her body.
“I think you keep yourself hidden,” Tristan said slowly. “You’re afraid to show who you really are.”
Well, that was true, she thought. On more than one level. They had no idea who she really was.
Feeling guilty, Abby finished her wine. “That was delicious. I probably drank it too quickly.” Her head spun a little but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. Certainly not enough to make her regret her decision.
“I’ll get you another glass.” He half rose but she shook her head regretfully.
“Tempting, but no. I only ever drink one glass.” Another glass and she might stop hiding who she was and spill the truth.
“One glass? That’s it?”
“I have boundless self-discipline. My mother insisted on it. She thinks it’s important to always be in full control.” She sighed. “Also, I’m working tomorrow.”
Tristan sat back down again. “How’s that going? You’re enjoying it?”
“I’m loving it.”
And that was unexpected.
She gazed through the wooden gate to the fishing boats in the harbour.
She’d come here to focus on the business. To learn more about the hotel and the people. To assemble sufficient information to enable her mother to make a decision, whatever that would be.
But this no longer felt like business to Abby. It felt personal. And it was confusing.
There were gaps in what her mother had told her and suddenly the past felt murky and indistinct.
She thought back to the phone call. When she’d asked the question about Edward, her mother had cut her off, saying that she had another commitment.
And it was probably true, because her mother never wasted a minute of her day and Abby had been late on the call, but still it felt as if she’d been using it as an excuse to avoid the question.
Or was she overthinking it? It would be in character for her mother to be annoyed by her lateness and to cut the meeting off to make a point.
But she wasn’t only a member of staff, was she? She was her daughter! She should be allowed to ask questions of a personal nature. And her mother should be asking her personal questions too, not just enquiring about the business.
Frustration simmered inside her.
“I’ve been here for more than three weeks and she hasn’t once asked me if I’m enjoying it.
How it feels to be here. My mother doesn’t do feelings or emotions.
I know that. And this is supposed to be work, after all, although it’s interesting that the people I’m working with have asked me more questions in the few weeks I’ve been here than my mother has asked me in a life-time.
It shouldn’t bother me. It doesn’t usually bother me.
” She fiddled with her empty wine glass.
“But for some reason tonight it bothered me.” She broke off. “Sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“For spilling my problems all over you. Anyway, enough of me. Isn’t tonight supposed to be piano night? Shouldn’t you be in there, revving up the crowd?”
“Yes. Unfortunately Ray is ill, so people are going to have to sing a cappella tonight. No doubt the complaining will start when I go back inside. Which is why I’m lingering out here with you.” He finished his beer. “I’m letting Matt take the flak for once.”
She decided he really was very attractive and wondered why it had taken a glass of wine to make her see that.
Or maybe it wasn’t the wine. Maybe it was because he was smiling at her for the first time.
She wondered how it would feel to kiss him. Complicated, she thought. It would feel complicated. And she had all the complicated she could deal with right now.
“I could do it.” The words spilled out of her before she had time to overthink it and stop herself. “I can play.”
He gave her a curious look. “Do you know any sea shanties?”
“No, but if you have music I can sight-read. And there are other things I can play. Piano rags? Your customers might like those, and if not I can play something else.” It had been ages since she’d performed but she remembered that occasionally music had made her forget everything but the moment.
If she was lucky, that would happen tonight. She badly needed the escape.
“I thought you were the classical type—Chopin, Beethoven—”
“Maybe I’ll surprise you.”
“You already have. Have you ever played in a pub before?”
“No.” She thought about the concert halls she’d played in as a teenager. The featureless practice rooms. The grand piano in her mother’s home. “But a piano is a piano. At least, I assume it is.”
“Let’s find out.” He stood up and picked up his empty bottle. “Thank you. For doing this, I mean. I owe you.”
“You’d better wait to hear me play before you thank me.” She suddenly realised what she’d committed herself to and her stomach quaked a little. “Are there lots of people in there?”
“It’s busy enough. Why? Are you about to suffer from stage fright?”
“I might. Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
“Too late. No backing out now. You made a commitment and letting me down would jar with your sense of duty.”
“That’s probably true.” She held out her glass. “But if I’m going to play in public, I’ll take that second glass of wine.”
He took the glass from her. “Coming right up. Playing the piano in a bar and a second glass of wine. Two firsts in one evening.”
She followed him into the pub, wondering why on earth she’d volunteered for this.
She sat down at the piano, trying to pretend she was alone in her mother’s drawing room.
“Hey, Tris, you have a new pianist?” A man with a wide smile and an even wider gut beamed at her. “She’s a lot better looking than Ray. Can she play?”
“Why don’t you listen and find out?” Tristan handed her a brimming glass of wine. “You’re allowed to put it on top of the piano.”
“Oh, I would never—” But he’d already put it there and walked away before she could ask him what he thought she should play first.
She took a massive gulp of wine and decided it was probably best to dive in. And when they booed her out of the pub she’d take that walk she’d planned earlier. And obviously she’d never be able to show her face in the place again.
She started with Scott Joplin’s “Maple Leaf Rag,” and wondered from the sudden silence around her if that had been a mistake, but then feet started tapping and there were a couple of whoops from behind her.
She played more piano rags, then moved from that to a couple of Irish jigs that had people dancing, and then shifted to a couple of folk songs to give everyone a breather.
When she finally took a break the applause echoed round the old pub.
Embarrassed and pleased in equal measure, she drank the wine Tristan had left her. She’d intended to sip it slowly, but they were encouraging her to play more so she gulped the wine down faster than she should have done and started playing again.
She’d emptied her glass, but when she looked at it again it was full and she realised Tristan must have brought her a replacement at some point.
When she finally stopped playing her head was spinning and her ears were ringing.
Everyone cheered and clapped and she felt a rush of pleasure.