Chapter 18
After that joyous conversation, I spend my time sitting by the brook at the end of the clinic’s property, in the shade of a copse of trees.
I’m going to book myself a flight right out of this bedlam and go home, where I’m needed, if not actually appreciated, by my kids.
Because I certainly don’t need my mother.
I spend hours there, and it’s past dinner time by the time I decide enough is enough. I wish Markus was here to fall asleep next to me on this bloody hard bench. Markus makes everything so much more bearable.
Sighing, I get to my feet to face the music.
I’m going to go into the dining hall, head held high, and I’m going to enjoy my meal and then frogmarch myself back upstairs early while my mother holds court to all her friends.
She’ll retire very late, as always, and I’ll pretend to be sleeping, as always.
On the way, I decide to have my dinner brought up to my room to avoid the gaggle of women entirely, but the joke is on me because my mother is already there waiting for me.
‘Come on, Livvie. Let’s discuss this like two proper adults.’
‘Two proper adults?’ I gape. ‘You want to teach me how to be a proper adult?’
‘Livvie, you are my daughter and I think we should be able to have a civilised conversation.’
‘Oh, come on, Mother! Do you really expect me to believe your new-found motherly love, that you want to be my mother again? That you actually care?’
She blinks at me. ‘Of course I care. I always have. Olivia, I never stopped being your mother. I know you feel like I abandoned you, but I always kept in touch, sent letters, postcards, gifts, invited you to come visit. When Joe and Cassie were old enough I invited them over for the holidays. I did everything I could to not lose you…’
‘You did? That’s funny, because all I remember is crying myself to sleep wondering why my mother left.
You didn’t care enough to stay with your family, where you belonged!
I had to go through puberty without you!
Do you know who bought me my first bra? That’s right, Dad!
And do you know that when I got my period I didn’t leave my room for five days?
No, you don’t, because Dad would’ve spared you that sense of guilt. Why, I just don’t know!’
Now that I’ve started I can’t seem to stop, every feeling I’ve been pushing down over the past few weeks – or decades – spilling out of me.
‘I’ll never be able to understand why you get the accolades as if you’d been there the whole time, every single day, through good and bad, like a real mother.
But you weren’t! It was Dad! Always Dad, every single day of his life!
And where were you if not with your Italian boyfriend, eating granita and sipping limoncello! ’
And then, it happens. My flighty, heartless mother’s eyes fill with tears. Real, big, plopping tears. And then she begins to shake, letting out a loud, feral cry that seems to come from her gut.
‘Look, Mother, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just upset. I take it all back, okay?’ I sigh.
I’m more than aware that this was always our dynamic while she was living with us.
She did something to upset me, but when I gave her grief for it, then she got upset and it frightened me so much to see her come undone that I would always be the one to apologise in the end.
But the only way to break that cycle was to stay away from her.
‘Do you really think that I left you so light-heartedly?’ she whispers.
‘That I didn’t cry myself to sleep for the choice I’d made?
That my heart didn’t ache for you, every time your father told me something had happened to you?
Do you think I didn’t suffer when Mitchell died?
Or when you were bullied? Or that I didn’t want to fly back and shake Simon senseless until he saw what an amazing girl you really are behind your snarky, I-don’t-give-a-shit exterior?
Do you think I didn’t blame myself for how you’d changed?
Of course I did, Olivia! I felt exactly the same way you are feeling now with Cassie. ’
‘That’s not the same, Mother.’
‘Probably not. But it feels the same,’ she informs me.
Well, she’s got me there.
‘I know I’ve been a terrible mother, and that you still hate me despite our best efforts.’
‘I don’t hate you, Mother.’ Also because, I’ve learnt these past few weeks, that hatred takes up a great deal of energy and I am exhausted by it.
‘Are you sorry you came?’ she asks timidly.
‘No, of course not…’
‘It was cowardly of me, not coming back to England and instead insisting you came to us. But you never wanted to. You never even wanted to speak to me, and it made me suffer. It wasn’t your fault, of course.
I was the adult, and I just dumped all that on you.
I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Can you ever forgive me… ?’
Her huge eyes have become two alpine lakes of tears. I want to reach out and comfort her, but I haven’t got it in me just yet. She needs to understand that we’ll get there, I’m sure, but I need time.
‘I forgive you, Mum…’
‘Thank you, sweetheart. I truly appreciate it. I know I was selfish. What a thing to ask of a young girl! And what you must have thought of me.’
Oh, I have many thoughts.
‘Even Aldo said that if I was so miserable I could go back to England for months at a time if it made me feel better… or even for a year or two.’
He loved her that much? Simon had a hissy fit when I told him I was going away for two months. Of course, there are husbands and there are husbands. It figures she got two good ones and I’d got the crap one.
‘So why didn’t you come back, then?’ I ask, trying to keep it civil.
She sniffs and laughs at herself while dabbing at the corner of her eyes, but all her make-up is gone. She looks better without it, anyway.
‘Because I knew that if I did, and then left again, I’d destabilise you even more, and George was adamant that you didn’t suffer anymore. And I guess also because I was absolutely terrified of coming back to face you.’
‘But you always sent me invitations,’ I say.
‘And you finally answered!’ she says with a nervous laugh. ‘And I’m glad you did!’
‘Yeah,’ I mutter. ‘I am happy to be here, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.’
‘It is beautiful here, isn’t it?’ she says.
I look around us, from the mountains to the pine trees to the lake below and the little boats bobbing from shore to shore.
‘It feeds the soul. I’ve never been to such a beautiful place before. And this place… it takes my breath away. Thank you for inviting me here to stay with you.’
‘It’s my pleasure, Livvie.’ And then silence, followed by: ‘Oh, to hell with it. I told myself I was going to be honest with you, so I’m going to.’
‘What?’ I ask. ‘What is it?’
She sighs. ‘I was looking for the right moment to tell you, chickie. I… have breast cancer.’
My breath catches in my throat. ‘M-mum…’
Her eyes moisten as she squeezes my fingers delicately.
‘Oh my God, Mum…’
‘It’s okay, chickie,’ she soothes.
At that, I splutter. When was the last time she’d called me that without my baulking?
‘Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry!’
‘Livvie,’ she says, clearing her throat, but her voice is still feeble, so different from her singsong voice only a few hours ago. ‘It’s just one of those things, honey.’
‘But why?’ I blurt out. ‘You don’t smoke, you exercise…’
She shrugs and smiles. ‘Oh, well, who knows? You just have to take it on the chin, whatever life gives you.’
‘H-how far…?’
‘I’ve already done a few rounds of chemo. Lost my hair and grew it back… Now we wait and see what’s what until my next check-up. But I want to go back home to Sicily now. Will you come with me? For a while?’
I can’t believe it. My mother has… cancer? We were only just getting to know each other again! It can’t be over just like that, after all these years of not talking to her!
‘Yes,’ I whisper, my voice cracking. ‘Of course I’ll come with you, Mum.’
‘Thank you. If I’m not asking too much… I know school is not out yet, but… the kids don’t have any exams. Maybe your father could come with them—?’
‘Absolutely, Mum. We’ll all come.’
‘Thank you,’ she repeats. ‘I’m so happy, all of us under one roof again, after all these years…’
Happy? She’s… happy?
‘Oh, chickie, wipe your tears. This is the way it’s meant to be. I’m sorry I’ve been such a disappointment.’
I shake my head. ‘That’s in the past, Mum.’
She smiles and reaches out to caress my face. She hasn’t done that in over twenty years. Because I had never let her. I had never answered her letters, never accepted her invitations to Sicily. I had simply erased her from my life. And now she is battling to save hers.
‘You know, love,’ she says. ‘I don’t want you to make a big mistake.’
‘W-what do you mean?’
‘Please forgive me if I insist, but it’s obvious that Simon is not the man for you anymore.
Maybe you loved him in the past, but now it’s over, and that’s okay.
You can always start again, find a new love.
And based on what your father tells me about this Markus, it looks like you already have, am I right? ’
‘You’ve just told me you have cancer and you want to talk about my love life?’
‘Of course, why not? Your love life is important. It’s part of your happiness. And it’s so much more interesting than my boring diagnosis. You’re not only a mother. You’re also a woman. Don’t ever forget that, chickie.’
*
Up until now my father and I had only texted, except for my birthday. And now I understand why. You can hide behind a text, but not so much when talking on the phone. Even today his voice is sad, despite his efforts to sound chipper.
‘Hi, Dad, how are you guys?’
‘We’re all tickety boo here, love. How’s your mum?’
‘She… told me about her cancer.’
‘Oh, sweetheart.’
‘Yuh…’ I manage, not knowing what else to do. But it’s important that all cards are on the table now. I sniff, unable to speak around the lump in my throat.
‘Will you finally forgive her, pet?’
‘Yes, of course…’ I whisper, reaching for the tissues.