Chapter 35
Lily still worried about her mother. The irony was agonizing because Lydia was doing everything Lily had always wished she would do or nagged her to do, and all without complaint.
She prepared meals in advance, remembered Rosie’s school timetable, hugged her girls, appreciated them, asked questions of them, and took genuine (if slightly distracted and fleeting) interest in their answers.
She listened to the story about the filmmaking at Pippi and finally seemed to understand the threat it posed.
She praised Lily for doing something about it and even showed interest in the council decision, which was still some weeks away.
But mostly she floated around the house like a much politer zombie version of her former self.
She spent time on the deck bundled up in a blanket against the cool air, and when Lily brought her cups of tea, she accepted them with wan smiles, sometimes through tears.
She watched her girls laughing and bickering as they did chores or walked along the beach together.
“Are you okay, Mum?”
“Of course. I’m here with my two favorite people in the whole world!”
One morning, without explanation, Lydia dressed in her city clothes, hugged the girls tightly, and caught the first ferry.
“I’ll be back tonight. I’ll call ahead so you can make me a cocktail.”
Lily spent the day wondering what she should do. Her mother had always been such an open book; all this secrecy was confounding. What could possibly take her into the city on her own like that?
Lydia returned on the last ferry, which in the cooler months made its final circuit around the bays and headlands in the dark.
She was pale, unsmiling, and looked older and more tired than Lily had ever seen her.
She made it through dinner with an effort at brightness that failed dismally and the meal ended with Rosie bursting into hysterical tears.
“You’ve got cancer, haven’t you!” she blurted out in a sea of sobs. “Or some other terrible disease, you’re going to die or leave us and I’ll have to go back to St. Clair’s and—” She descended into unintelligible ranting as Lily and Lydia tried to soothe her.
“Cancer!” laughed Lydia. “My God, Rosie, I don’t look that bad!”
Lily cleaned the kitchen while Lydia put Rosie to bed. Half an hour later, Lydia retreated to the deck with a blanket. Lily joined her with two cups of tea and a blanket for herself.
“Is Rosie okay?”
“Yes. She’s all good. I just—you know—apologized. Again. I’ve done lots of filthy things in my life but leaving her with the backpackers was the worst.”
Lily couldn’t think of what to say. To agree would be harsh, to reassure her would be a lie, so she said nothing.
“In my defense, she was being really obnoxious and said she never wanted to see me again.”
“She didn’t mean that.”
“I know. No excuse. My fault.” Lydia stared moodily out at the lights on the water. “Always my fault.”
“What happened today, Mum?”
“I went to the police.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s all right. I’m not going to jail. I just had to make a statement, that’s all, get the ball rolling on something.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes, I am, actually. I think today, even though the whole thing was rubbish and I feel like a wet mop, honestly, just embarrassed and hurt and ashamed and all of that stuff—now that it’s done, I also feel proud.”
“What happened?”
“How old are you again?”
“I’m eighteen, Mum.”
“And have you—yet—oh God, never mind. I don’t know; there’s no manual for parenting.”
“There’s literally hundreds of books on parenting.”
“I never thought I’d need one! How was I to know there’d be moments of crisis?”
Lily was growing increasingly alarmed, the breath rising in her chest.
“Just tell me what happened.”
“The thing is, honey—men are ratbags. I mean, not all men, of course, hashtag whatever, but you know, a lot of them, most of them, are on a sort of sliding scale of ratbaggery. Even Lizzie’s most fabulous husband, your uncle Fitz, who is so incredibly wonderful and the best husband and father in the whole wide world, can be so rude.
He was very disdainful of Lizzie taking up needlepoint.
And he’s no fun at all at stand-up comedy nights, he’ll ruin it for everyone ’cause he’s got no sense of humor. ”
“Mum—”
“I know. He’s actually great, it’s just an example. You’ve got to keep your standards high, front and center, and not let these ratbags get away with treating us like we don’t matter, because that’s their default position, you know? That’s what they’ll do if they can.”
“Are you talking about Dad?”
“Oh, your dad, bless him, he’s probably as good as he’s capable of being. Such a loser. No. It’s Alex King I’m talking about. He, well—there’s no good way of putting it, really—he abused me, honey. Threatened me. I pushed back—that shut him up for a bit. Then next time he got mad … he hit me.”
Lily gasped. For the first time, she saw her mother unmasked and vulnerable.
“Not hard. I’m okay. He apologized, cried like a baby, promised it would never happen again, blah blah, but then …
There was some other stuff I don’t want to talk about.
And I thought, well, I kind of deserve it, you know?
Who am I? I’m nothing. Just some over-the-hill hot mess he’s picked up somewhere who is quite literally a servant, and when he smiled at me and when he touched me, it was like Christmas. ”
Lydia’s eyes welled up through a wry smile.
“That is how pathetically starved I am. And so was he. Underneath it all, he just wanted someone to love him, love all of him, this angry, damaged soul. And I did. We both thought if we got married, that’d somehow prove that we were worth something.
That things would get better. Then I caught him with a barmaid.
Ha. What a cliché. Anyway. She reminded me of Rosie, that young woman.
You know, sparky like her, not much of a thinker, feels all the joy of life.
And I thought, I don’t care what he does to me, I can handle it.
But he’s going to hurt her too. And he won’t stop hurting people until someone makes him stop.
So I dumped him. I talked to her. And between us we have enough evidence of what he did to both of us to actually prosecute. ”
Tears sprang to Lily’s eyes. It had been some years since she recognized her mother as a survivor, but she never thought Lydia would ever see herself that way, let alone actually use the word “abuse” in relation to herself.
“And I made that decision on my own, Lily. Because that’s what women need to do—stand up for ourselves and support one another.”
“I’m really proud of you, Mum.”
Lydia grimaced. “Yep, well, enjoy the feeling. It’s only taken me your whole life to get there, probably won’t last,” she muttered. She adjusted her blanket. “Did you know he knows Dorian Khan? What a pair. A couple of prancing chihuahuas, only tall. Did you know they were friends?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really. Just more evidence of widespread male ratbaggery. Who cares?”
“I don’t.”
“Me neither.”
They lapsed into silence. Lydia was calmer, unburdened, while Lily’s mind was a whirl.
She was very conscious of how massively her opinions of Dorian and Alex had changed since the summer.
She couldn’t dwell on her history with either of them without flaming cheeks, an intense desire to do better next time, and the sad realization that there never would be a next time with Dorian Khan.
Lydia broke the silence. “Just remember. Please. You are important and you are powerful. Just as you are, in yourself, standing alone. Don’t let anyone, and especially no man, treat you as anything less.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s taken me a really long time to know that. I know I’m just a ridiculous, vain little flirt who would do anything for a smile from a hot guy. Just—do as I say, not as I do, okay?”
“I’ll try.”