Chapter 8 #4
I should tell her off, or banter back at her, but I’m too exhausted.
Besides, she’s not wrong – that might not be my official job title, but it is what I do.
Even now, even tonight, I know I’ll have to sort out some kind of office supply chain emergency, and have been CC’d in to a million brain-squelchingly dull emails.
I do not love my job, but it has supported us both.
It has allowed Beth to have a life free of financial worries, to have her fancy headphones, to have her Spotify, to go on school trips without thinking twice.
To get new Doc Martens when she wants them.
I can’t claim it’s not boring, but it flattens me a little to hear her say it.
Here, in this place, in front of this man.
He has grown up to be everything I am not.
‘Maybe,’ he answers, when I stay silent. ‘But I’m guessing you won’t be writing a letter to your best friend, will you, then popping down to the post office to buy a wee stamp?’
‘Uh. No. I don’t think I’ve ever bought a stamp in my life. I’ll be calling her!’
‘On your phone, that I’m guessing your mum has bought for you, on a plan she pays for. So maybe it’s not that dull after all, eh?’
It’s a gentle reprimand, and she takes it well, grinning at him and saying, ‘Busted!’ But still, it’s not his place. She’s not his daughter, and it’s not his job to defend me. My life, her life – none of it is his business.
‘She’s right, it is dull,’ I say briskly, ‘and I’m happy to pay for her phone. I’m her mother.’ I join them at the top of the stairs. It’s a big landing, stretching off in two directions. He nods, and looks away. Does he know he overstepped? Does he care?
‘So, this is the bathroom,’ he says, pointing at the wooden door ahead of us. ‘Afraid there’s only one, but there is an extra loo and shower room downstairs at the back of the house – I use it to rinse off when I’ve been working. It gets dirty.’
I bet it does, I think. And I bet he looks like a bloody heart-throb while he does it – I can picture him now, with his welding torch, being all tortured artist-like as he transforms his hunks of metal into magical unicorns or whatever. Ugh.
‘And you’re in here…’
Beth is thrilled with her room, even though it is pretty basic by teen girl standards – no TV, no full-length mirror, painted in a simple shade of deep green.
It is big, though, with a massive double bed.
She immediately throws her rucksack down, and plonks herself next to it, phone already in her hand.
She glances up at me, and does a stage yawn.
I have to smile, despite the circumstances.
‘Okay, okay, I get the message, you urgently need to discuss absolutely nothing at all with Lily! I’ll be… where will I be?’ I ask, frowning.
‘Next door.’
‘Right. I’ll be next door if you need me, Beth.’
She looks at me with a slight shake of the head, like she’s thinking What could I possibly need you for when I have Lily?
The walls of this place do at least seem very thick and sturdy, which is a good thing – they’re capable of staying on the phone for hours at a time, their conversations punctuated by sharing video clips, music, and cackling so hard they make a pack of hyenas seem subdued.
‘All right. Love you,’ I say, leaving the room.
‘Love you, Mum!’ she shouts, throwing me a bone.
I’m now out here, on the landing. Alone. With him. I know I need to talk to him. I know we need to sort this out, clear the air – but right now I cannot think of anything worse. I need a moment to gather myself.
I make a beeline for the door to my room, a sense of panic bubbling up inside me.
Now Beth isn’t here as a buffer zone, I’m even more freaked out.
There’s not enough space between us. He’s too big, too close, too everything.
I need to escape, at least for a minute.
I need to sit and breathe and think, and then maybe I will be able to face him.
For now, though, I can’t. I can’t bring myself to face those eyes again. I’m on the verge of crumbling here, and I can’t bear the thought of doing it in front of him. I don’t have a lot of pride to cling on to, but the tiny bit I have left keeps me upright.
I scoot past him, muttering something about being exhausted and needing a nap.
Part of that is true – I am exhausted, but I don’t rate my chances of getting to sleep.
This is a time for tossing and turning if ever there was one.
For staring at the ceiling and checking the time and rubbing sore eyes for hours on end.
I don’t care – I just need to get away from him, from his proximity. From the way he’s making me feel.
I’m just reaching out to grab the handle when his arm shoots out and bars my way. I stand and stare, too shocked to speak. He moves between me and the door, physically blocking me with his whole body. I gaze up at him, confused and now on the edge of tears.
‘What, Rory?’ I murmur quietly, just in case Beth can hear. ‘Let me past! What could you possibly want?’
His face is set and angry, his voice low and fierce as he replies.
‘I want you to go downstairs, and I want to talk to you. I want to hear what you have to say for yourself, Jane Matthews. I think I deserve an explanation after all these years, don’t you?’