Chapter 19
The next day we are in the entertainment hall waiting for the dinner announcement.
Mum sits at the grand piano, listlessly caressing the keys. And I just know what’s on her mind. I may not have spoken to her all these years but it’s perfectly clear to me.
‘That day… when I left… I want to make it up to you, chickie,’ she says. ‘I’d like you to sing that song, if you would like?’
I can tell that her shame is still burning, especially now that things are slowly mending between us. It’s something that she hasn’t been able to deal with, a nagging sense of guilt that has been plaguing her all these years.
I watch her, panic rising inside me as she tentatively plays the opening chords of ‘our’ song. Before I realise what’s happening, she begins to sing the song ever so softly, under her breath, like she used to while teaching me.
I listen as she finishes the first verse and looks to me for the second.
I open my mouth, for her, but nothing comes out.
She smiles her you can do it smile at me.
I did sing it before, when I was on my own that day.
But can I do it again, with her playing the piano like she was supposed to have done?
Is this what it takes from both of us, to come full circle and erase the past?
So I begin to sing, under my breath, softly, uncertainly.
Mum is still smiling, encouraging me, and before I know it, I’m a teenager on that stage again, still full of trepidation.
Only this time Mum is there to back me up.
We haven’t done this in twenty-two years and I don’t know how many more times we’ll get a chance to do this together, if at all, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do it now.
Because this is our official atonement. The moment where everything changes for real, in every way.
If I can do this with her, for her, it will mean that I have well and truly, finally forgiven her.
And I also know that somewhere along the line I’ve grown out of my pain.
And perhaps even my anger. Because there are more important things in life.
There is life itself. And the memories we make with our loved ones, those who touch us the deepest and are always the ones who hurt us the most, without ever wanting to.
Before I know it, I am singing along, singing every word with feeling as her own voice drops in order to let me take the lead.
I remember all her silent gestures. I know exactly from the look on her face that I’m doing well, that I’ve sung that particular section exactly the way it should be sung.
I can see from her face that she is proud of my voice, but also that she is proud of me, and of us.
We have come a long way since the night of the school talent show.
It’s time for the climax of the song and, perhaps because I’d sung it recently, I really manage to knock it out of the park once again. Only this time I’m not alone.
As I bring the song down to its conclusion, there is a loud crash.
I open my eyes and whirl around. Behind us an entire crowd has filled the hall, with the Respiri Ladies in the front line, clapping and cheering like there’s no tomorrow.
‘That was absolutely amazing, Olivia! And you didn’t even warm up first!’ Mum says, getting to her feet to wrap her arms around me, and we hold each other as the crowd continues to go absolutely bonkers. ‘Thank you, chickie! I’ve had the time of my life!’
‘Me too, Mum!’ is all I can say as I’m still winded. ‘I never thought we would ever sing together again.’
‘Never say never, you see, love?’
I nod as tears stream down my cheeks. Happy tears, for once.
*
The next day, another crazy thing happens. I get another message from Cassie:
Hi Mum, how are you? Everything is fine here. School is boring as usual. Talk tonight?
Now, I know that my mother is behind this and that this is certainly not a spontaneous gesture from Cassie.
She probably rolled her eyes and finally, after much insistence from my mother’s part, capitulated.
But I still can’t help being absolutely beside myself with joy!
Though I rein myself in a tad. I don’t want to look too desperate and therefore, in her eyes, pathetic. So I type back:
Lovely to hear that all is well. Yes, happy to talk tonight. Seven p.m. your time?
To which she immediately answers:
Ok.
Better than nothing, I guess. I’m grateful. I’m also grateful to my mother. So I tell her.
‘Aw, chickie, I have no idea what you’re talking about!’ she says with a smile and a wink.
That’s her way of doing things. But if it means that Cassie is willing to talk to me again, I’ll take it, thank you very much.
I don’t need to tell anyone how happy I am all day, bouncing around like a duck on springs. I can’t help smiling to myself. This time I’m going to be cool. Not be needy or too smother-y. I’ll listen to what Cassie has to say and I’ll support her.
Unless, oh crap, is there a particular reason she wants to talk to me?
She knows how I feel about sleepovers and wild parties.
Has she… done something? Nonsense. Cassie is a clever girl.
She would never get into any trouble. Unless Liam has anything to do with it?
Okay, now I’m officially worried. But then again, if something were wrong, Markus or at least my mother would have given me a heads up, right?
Seven o’clock is never going to come soon enough. I’m tempted to call her now, but I stop myself. It would only annoy her anyway.
So I book myself a massage. God knows I’m tense enough.
The massage room is a different one this time.
It’s done up in shades of burnt orange and rust and deep yellows.
On one end of the massage bed there are low, thick, scented candles burning.
The masseuse is a small woman, but I soon find out, much to my joy, that she has the most powerful hands I’ve ever known.
‘Tense, sì?’ she prompts.
‘Yes,’ I murmur back, already plunging myself into relaxation mode. Out with all the bad thoughts. I mean, there’s really no need to worry. I would know if something was wrong, right? A mother knows these things. I would feel it in my bones. Which, come to think of it, I do.
‘Untense your shoulders, please,’ the masseuse whispers.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble back.
Of course I could always nip back there for the weekend.
It’s only a three-hour flight, at the end of the day.
I could be there in time for Saturday brunch and stay with my family all weekend and fly back Sunday afternoon.
Just to make sure everything’s okay. And that Cassie isn’t in distress.
This Liam bloke… are they together? My mother had said, Let him chase you.
Is she stalking him? Of course not. Well, at least I know they are not an item.
Because once that happens and he’s bad news, there’s no getting rid of the scum.
But he hasn’t dealt with me yet. I’ll sort him out.
I’ll show him he can’t just crook his finger and boss my baby girl around.
I’ll teach him what respect looks like—’
‘Mrs Dawson, your shoulders. Please.’
‘Sorry,’ I whisper, trying to breathe calmly and willing myself to focus on this lovely massage.
The oil smells nice. Rosemary? Rosemary reminds me of Christmas.
Funny, because cinnamon should remind me of Christmas, but last year Markus baked something with cinnamon around Easter and it sort of stayed with me.
Next Christmas, I would like to… next Christmas.
What is going to happen next Christmas? Will my mother be around?
I can’t even think of her not being around, even if we have many, many issues still to resolve between us.
It would be nice to have them – her and…
Aldo – over at the house. We could decorate the oast house and throw a lovely Christmas party with friends and family.
Or we could spend it in Sicily with Aldo’s family.
I have no idea what the future will bring and it’s driving me crazy.
This is ridiculous. I’m here having a massage in one of the most exclusive resorts in the world, and I am worrying about things that are totally beyond my control.
I can do nothing about my mother’s health right now, save keep her company and attempt to fix the twenty-two-year rift between us.
Nor can I solve any of Cassie’s problems, whatever they may be, until I speak to her later. But I can’t help but wonder—
‘Mrs Dawson, please try to relax…’
‘Yes, sorry, sorry.’
‘Turn over, please.’
I do as I’m told and let her work on the rest of me.
*
Seven o’clock finally rolls around and I am practically jumping out of my skin.
My daughter has never phoned me unless she needed something: a lift, money, school supplies, clothes, etc.
But then again I have never been this far from her.
I know exactly how she feels. Even if I’m not the first mother to take a much-needed break for my mental health, I still feel guilty.
But I am literally doing it for them. So I can be a better, calmer mother.
A little pain for a big gain and all that.
I only hope that this will be the first of many spontaneous connections between us.
I don’t expect a call every week, but once or twice before I leave this paradise on earth would be nice.
Maybe I could come back here with her, one day?
My mobile rings and I pounce on it. ‘Hello, Cassie…’ I sound pleased but not desperate.
‘Hi, Mum…’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine. How are you?’
‘Just fine, thank you, darling.’
She sounds okay. Meaning, she doesn’t sound like she’s being pushed around. But she does sound listless. ‘So how are things?’
‘Oh, you know. The usual.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah…’
‘And school? How’s school?’
‘We had a few tests this week. I think I actually did well.’
‘Good for you, I’m glad, Cassie. I never doubted it.’ Supportive but not smother-y.
Silence. She’s not revealing anything spontaneously any time soon.