He pictured one of his favourite moments with his mother. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but just the thought of it and Nate felt his mood begin to lift. He must have been about fourteen at the time and he was struggling with some algebra homework. He smiled as he recalled his mum’s frustration at not being able to get her head around it either. So much so, that in the end they both just gave up, opting to watch a film instead and as usual, his mother talked all the way through it. She might not have been any good at maths but she certainly knew how to ruin a good movie, correctly anticipating what was going to happen next, and why, at every twist and turn. Nate didn’t mind though. He enjoyed listening to her. To the outside world such an evening might be deemed typical when it came to family life. For the two of them, it was such a rare occasion.
Dragging his mind back into the present, Nate continued to take in his surroundings, his eyes resting on the silver-framed photos adorning the console table. Approaching them, he poured himself a glass of wine and setting the bottle down, took in the images before him. Mostly pictures of himself as a boy, Aunt Julia had always been a second mum to him, providing a home from home when things got too chaotic back in the UK. Having never had children of her own, she seemed to relish having him to stay; his holidays here were always packed full of fun and adventure from the second he stepped off the plane.
He picked up the one and only photo of his mother, a relaxed head and shoulder shot taken before he was born. As usual, he found looking at her image unnerving, the likeness between mother and son was striking even to him. He stroked the corner of the frame with his thumb. She might not have been the most conventional of mothers, but he supposed under the circumstances she did her best. What he’d never understand though were the choices she made. Or the pandemonium that surrounded her – even to this day. “Sorry, Mum,” he said, as he opened the table drawer and carefully slipped the photo inside.
“Everything okay?” Julia asked.
Hastily closing the drawer, Nate spun round as she made her entrance, making sure to smile as he looked her way. “Fine.” Scrutinising her expression, if she’d seen him hide the picture she certainly wasn’t letting on. Instead, she raised her empty glass and taking the hint, Nate picked up the wine bottle to fill it.
“I’m ready for this,” she said. “And with a bit of luck, we’ll have five minutes to ourselves before everyone gets here.”
They sat down on opposing sofas and Nate watched his aunt make herself comfortable. She seemed to come over all tense, as if readying herself to say something.
“Bruce phoned,” she finally said.
Nate scoffed. He knew it.
“He thinks you’re ignoring him.”
“That’s because I am.”
“Why?” Despite knowing that he and Bruce had never seen eye to eye, Nate’s response seemed to have caused some confusion. “Don’t you agree with what he’s doing?”
Nate shrugged. “I don’t care one way or the other.”
“You don’t think you should be involved?”
Determined to keep his irritation in check, Nate took a sip of his wine. “I think we should change the subject.”
“But this is about your mum. You can’t stay mad at her forever.”
He begged to differ. “Watch me.”
His aunt shook her head, her expression showing a mix of disappointment and frustration. But as far as Nate was concerned that was the end of the subject. The last person he ever wanted to talk about was his mother, a fact Julia knew all too well and as he drank another mouthful of wine, an awkward silence descended, but Nate didn’t care.
“I wonder what they’ll do with the place,” Julia suddenly asked, clearly wanting to lift the atmosphere. “It’s such a beautiful building, I can’t wait to see it come back to life.”
Nate wished he could share her enthusiasm, but the chateau was another topic he had no interest in. In fact, imagining the night ahead he didn’t know who he felt sorry for the most. Himself, for being forced to be here or the newcomers for the grilling they were, no doubt, about to experience? His aunt and her circle might not be malicious when it came to their chit-chat, but they did like to keep up with the goings-on in and around the village. Poor Flick and her mother didn’t know what they were in for.
He watched his aunt circle the rim of her glass with her index finger, failing miserably in her attempts to appear casual.
“She’s very pretty,” she said. “The daughter.”
“Is she?” Nate refused to get drawn in, it didn’t take a genius to see where this was leading. When she wasn’t sticking up for his mum, the woman before him was forever trying to remedy his non-existent love life. “I didn’t notice.”
He was lying, of course. Recalling their brief meeting, he’d surprised himself at how alluring he’d found her. There was something about the way she looked at him. Most people either avoided eye contact, even when talking to him, or they did their utmost not to stare too hard. Flick, however, did neither of those things. Although she did hold on to his hand longer than necessary, an action that amused him even now. Plus, she was stunning, she had an unassuming beauty, her looks were natural. Not that he was interested, of course. Having been burned in the relationship department too many times already, no way was he going to risk that happening again. As far as he was concerned, Flick might look all sweet and innocent, but she still had the power to hurt him.
Julia froze. “What? You’ve met her?”
He took another sip of wine, half of him wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Julia would want a blow-by-blow account of their exchange despite there not being much to tell. The other half felt determined to play it cool and enjoy the moment. Catching his aunt off guard didn’t happen very often, so he had to make the most of it. “For all of sixty seconds.”
Julia leaned forward in her seat, maintaining a calm composure clearly no longer an issue. “When? You didn’t mention anything.”
Nate laughed. “I didn’t realise I had to.”
“So where did this meeting take place? What did you talk about? More to the point, why didn’t you tell me you’d spoken to her?”
Wondering which question he was supposed to answer first, a car horn suddenly beeped, putting an end to their conversation. A welcome reprieve, at least on his part, from the interrogation about to ensue. High pitched, yet hollow, he recognised the sound as belonging to a particular Citroën 2CV.Thank you, Gigi, he thought, amused by her perfect timing.I owe you one.
