Dubrovnik
Natali waited for Auntie Stela at the corner of the street.
The stuffy heat rose from the waters of the harbour, trickling between the low-rise blocks and making her armpits prickle.
Stifling, drab and grey. That just about summed up this part of Moko?ica.
Even the morning sun inching around Mount Sr? did nothing to improve it, the air thick with fumes from the cars and the noise of their engines.
Why on earth was Mama so desperate to keep her apartment here?
It was horrible. But of course, her mama had never seen the islands.
She probably wouldn’t much like them if she did.
Natali shifted from foot to foot. This was not going to be good.
For a fleeting moment she wished she had brought Obi with her, but it would have been silly to annoy her mother before they’d even started.
Or more importantly, make Obi suffer the hour-long bus journey each way in this heat when she could have a lovely walk along the inlet with Lloyd instead.
The sooner she could get on the return bus herself, the better.
She heard Auntie Stela’s heels clicking on the pavement before she rounded the corner.
Beneath the swinging hems of her linen trousers, glittery raspberry-coloured toenails peeped from her sandals, and there was more than a hint of pink in her spiky blonde hair.
Her lipstick was the same bright coral as her rip-off Gucci bag, leaving Natali in no doubt that she was all glammed up ready for battle.
“There you are, Nat,” she greeted her cheerily. “Couldn’t face going into the lion’s den alone?”
“I d-didn’t fancy being chewed up.”
Auntie Stela grinned at her attempt at a joke. “Or being wept over. Your mama’s not at her best, poor love, but she still shouldn’t expect you to come running when she clicks her fingers.”
Natali trailed after her up the narrow stairs to the second floor, where Auntie Stela hammered on the door.
Natali wrinkled her nose; the air on the landing was dusty and stale, the paint on the walls grubby and cracked.
Why had she barely noticed these things before?
Yet in truth, she’d hardly visited in recent years. She’d never been invited.
When her mama inched open the door, she was wearing a crumpled nylon housecoat, although Natali noticed she had bothered with eyeliner and mascara.
The uncharitable thought that it would give a better effect if she cried – no, when she cried – crossed Natali’s mind, but she tried to quash it as Mama put her arms briefly around her.
“You’ve come. Oh, you did come.” She stepped back, looking her up and down. “Where is your suitcase?”
“Natali isn’t staying,” said Auntie Stela firmly. “Not at the moment, anyway. There are things we need to talk about first.”
Mama grabbed Auntie Stela’s hand. “But I need her. I need company … someone to look after me… I can’t cope on my own.”
“You could if you pulled your finger out. Look at this place! It’s a tip.”
“What’s the point in keeping it nice now Dario’s gone?”
“For yourself. For your own self-respect. And as I said on Thursday, you’re well rid of the lying bastard.”
“Don’t w-worry, Mama. I’ll c-clean up.”
Mama clutched her arm. “Thank you, draga. I knew you’d understand.”
“Only enough so we can have a cup of coffee without catching something,” said Auntie Stela firmly. “Then we’re going to talk.”
Her mother huffed, and sat down on the sofa, which Natali noticed was covered with biscuit crumbs.
“So you ate the tortica I bought you?” she asked.
“When you feel too wretched to cook, they’re easy.”
“Lina, get a grip,” said Auntie Stela crossly. “You live off microwave meals anyway. It’s a miracle Natali knows how to make proper food.”
“She doesn’t cook it for me,” her mother retorted.
“She does for me because I give her a roof over her head when she needs it,” Auntie Stela snapped back.
“I’m giving her a roof now.” But whatever her mama said, Natali did not need that roof. Not at the moment, anyway.
Silence. Natali waited half in and half out of the arch to the kitchen.
Dirty cups and glasses covered every surface – not that there was much space anyway because the room was so tiny.
It was smaller than the galley on Dida Krila.
And it smelt of greasy drains, making her stomach heave.
Oh god, she couldn’t live here, she really couldn’t.
“Mama, I c-can’t. I—”
“More likely you won’t. Whatever it is you’re trying to tell me.” For a moment her mother sounded annoyed, but then a deep sob escaped her. “I’m so low, darling, so very low. Who knows what I might—”
“You can cut that out, for a start,” said Auntie Stela. “You’ve cried wolf too often for anyone to believe you really would kill yourself, so stop taunting Natali with it.”
“But … but I’ll be out on the street. I can’t pay the rent on my own.
” Mama’s head sank into her hands. This was the real threat, and Natali knew it.
She understood all too well what it was like to be homeless; how damn frightening not to be completely sure where you’d be sleeping.
She really didn’t think her mother could cope with that.
Natali looked pleadingly in Auntie Stela’s direction, but she said nothing, just gave her a vague nod.
This was what they’d agreed; Auntie Stela would back Natali up, but when it came to the crunch, she needed to tell her mother herself.
Mama would keep on and on at her otherwise; wear her down; lean on her for as long as she needed to, then throw her out again.
Natali had to break the cycle. She owed herself better than that.
The thought was a strange one; not entirely alien, but almost as though it had been growing inside her and she’d only just recognised it.
She didn’t want to be in the company of a woman who gave every impression of not really liking her, who treated her as a drudge.
If she agreed to it, she’d be as stupid as Mama had always told her she was.
And she wasn’t. She knew that now. Thanks to Ana and Lloyd.
Why give up the friendship and comfort of living and working with them any sooner than she had to?
She was happy on Dida Krila, and so was Obi.
Slowly Natali returned to the sofa and took her mother’s hand.
“Think about it, Mama. If I came to live with you, I would have to give up my job. The only work I could get in the city would not be so well paid, and then there’s the question of Obi…”
“You care more about that dog than you do me.”
Natali could not deny it, so it was best to avoid the subject and offer an olive branch instead. “If you like, I could come to see you on Saturdays?”
“But I need you, darling, I need you.” Tears glistened in Mama’s eyes, and Natali did not doubt she meant what she was saying. Mama had never been good at living alone. But Natali had never been enough for her either. If she had been, then perhaps a whole lot of things would be different.
“Well,” she said, “m-my job ends at the b-beginning of September so maybe then.”
“And in the meantime you will help with the rent?”
Oh god, what could she say now? She was cornered on this one. No way out.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lina.” Auntie Stela folded her arms.
“Why is it ridiculous? She said her job is well paid, she’s living aboard so she won’t be spending any money, and it’s not like she has a social life or any friends. I brought her up, Stela, fed her, clothed her—”
“Left her alone for hours, subjected her to a string of your boyfriends. Jeben ti, Lina, I’ve been more of a mother to the girl than you have.”
Natali looked down at the wooden floor. There were crumbs there too. Biscuits and crisps. Scratches as well, where the furniture had been moved. Months, if not years, of grime in the gaps between the boards.
“Natali? Natali?” her mother shook her arm.
She couldn’t look up. “I … I want to h-help you, Mama, but I have my own life to live.”
“Not even a little bit of money every month? I wouldn’t need much to keep this place.”
“I … I…”
Auntie Stela stood. “If it’s only a little bit of money that you need, then you can get yourself bloody dressed and go back to the restaurant. And with that useless ?upak Dario gone, you won’t have to come home bowing and scraping to him, so you can ask for extra hours.”
“You’re a heartless bitch, Stela,” Mama moaned.
“Then that’s you and me both. Come on, Natali, we’re going. Your mother needs to get ready for work.”
Natali tried to stand but her mother gripped her arm even tighter. “So you side with her over me?”
Auntie Stela’s eyes met Natali’s. Slowly she pulled her arm away, massaging the red marks left by her mother’s fingers. Red marks she remembered, as though from a long time ago. She took a step away from the sofa. “No, Mama. I’m not siding with anyone. I’m doing this for myself.”
“Odjebite! The pair of you! I never want to see you again.”
As her mother sobbed hysterically, Natali gathered her bag and followed Auntie Stela out of the flat. She felt curiously light-headed and had to stop at the top of the stairs.
“She doesn’t mean it, you know.”
Natali nodded. “I’ve heard it so many times before.”
Her auntie gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “You’re a good girl, Nat, you know that?” Natali nodded. “Right. Well, I think we’ve earned a cheeky lunchtime cocktail, don’t you? And I reckon you’re buying.”
Natali’s smile felt wobbly, and if nothing else she badly needed to sit down. “I reckon I am.”