Chapter 18 #3
Over the next few weeks Mum and I spend some quality time together.
We go for short walks and long sits. We get massages and pedicures and manicures and anything that we can do together, side by side, that is not too strenuous for her.
Now that I know, I see I should have figured out the tell-tale signs, like her cough, her moments of frailty, her hunger for life and laughter.
And Dad’s insistence on my coming out here.
I take her out to Stresa where Markus took me, and we have a leisurely meal on the lake in the shade of a huge tree that seems to be growing in the water.
We chat and laugh. We joke about Dad’s idiosyncrasies, like all the puzzles he’s started but never finished, and his obsession with trying new recipes when he never used to lift a finger in the kitchen when she was around.
There might be, here and there, a moment of awkwardness about her absence as it is a big part of our past, but we push on past it, because none of that matters in the face of her disease.
And I find that, although we can’t cram twenty years into two months in Villa dei Respira, my stay here has explored almost every avenue of this unusual mother–daughter relationship.
And through its peaks and troughs, I am finding it easier to navigate the difficulties, but I also understand a little bit more about my relationship with Cassie.
Granted, my relationship with my daughter is founded on a different basis, but many dynamics, many twists and turns, are very similar to my relationship with my mother.
As I am both a mother and a daughter, I am beginning to understand how to be better at each role, something I’d never questioned before.
I thought it was supposed to be something that just came naturally, but I have learnt that there are unspoken rules of interaction when dealing with both my daughter and my mother.
‘I can understand why people would want to move to Italy,’ I sigh as we are finishing up our lunch in the restaurant overlooking the lake. Our vegetarian lasagnas are simply mouth-watering, and today we have decided to live a little and share a bottle of Barolo. Why the hell not?
Mum puts her hand on mine. ‘Is that something that you might ever consider?’ she asks softly. ‘Or are you happy in England?’
I wonder what it would have been like if my father had moved us to Italy to be closer to my mother. Not that that would have made any sense, chasing the woman who left you halfway around the world, but maybe he had at least considered it for my sake.
Could I live in Italy? Absolutely. But my father?
Would he want to at this point in his life, even if he and Mum have managed to remain good friends?
And Cassie? She would absolutely hate me for even suggesting moving out of her beloved Canterbury.
Joe would follow me anywhere, my baby. I know that.
But would it give him what he wants and needs from life?
He is passionate about his football. Maybe I could get him into a good school with a good team?
And my business? Okay, let’s cut to the chase.
I could run the business from anywhere, but would I want to run it without Markus?
Would I want to live in a different country than him?
Even if he has his own life and future plans?
I have to accept that even if we always live in the same place, there will come a time when I won’t be able to see him every day, and that I have to get on with my own life.
Because, in any case, my priorities are Cassie and Joe. Anything else is just a bonus, really.
And then I realise that I haven’t even given Simon a thought. Which really says it all. I can’t see myself living with him for the rest of my life. Maybe I am more like my mother than I thought.
I look up at her. She’s waiting for an answer. ‘Could I live in Italy? Personally, yes. But I have to put Cassie and Joe first.’
And I bite my lip. I didn’t mean that to sound accusatory in any way. It’s just what mothers say and do. Put their kids first. But the past is in the past.
Mum is still holding my hand. She gently squeezes it. ‘All these years, Livvie, I’ve been thinking about what I did to you. I was a horrible mother…’
I shrug. ‘It’s okay, Mum.’
‘No, it’s not. Yes, you had your father, but a girl needs her mother. I understand that now. I didn’t before, because I never had my mother around. But you needed me, and I left.’
I can feel the pain rising in her voice and I squeeze her hand back. ‘Mum, I think I need you now more than I did back then.’ And that is the truth.
‘I’ve learnt so much about you. I needed this, Mum, even if I didn’t want it. I needed to know that you love me.’
Her huge eyes are glistening. ‘Oh, my darling,’ she whispers. ‘I never stopped loving you. Never…’
My breath catches as I push a sob down.
She laughs. ‘Okay, let’s not embarrass ourselves here, yes?’
I nod as I look around at the other diners. ‘Let’s not, indeed! Fancy some dessert?’ I suggest.
‘Abso-bloody-lutely! Tiramisù for me,’ she says.
‘Sounds like a plan!’ I agree as I catch the waiter’s attention.