‘And I’m not going to Surrey with you tomorrow.’
‘That is not negotiable, Charles.’
‘I’m not negotiating. I’m telling you. If you can’t cover me, I don’t mind declaring war on my father, explaining how much I despise hisfamily. It’s up to you, really. Now leave me alone.’
The twitch of Alice’s cheeks shows that she’s gritted her teeth and, for a moment, she looks ready to backtrack and suppress the maternal instinct that enables Charles’ blackmail.
But when she steps out of the room, the phone operator is back.‘Does George need help with more contracts?’
‘Whatever fable you like best.’
Alice slows down in the hallway, and Charles holds his breath, deaf to reason.
She has a chance to make things right, to acknowledge his acrimony and ease his pain. Charles isn’t asking for much, a silent gesture would do. A sign that she’s willing to make a difference from now on. That she cares about Charles’ wellbeing as much as sparing herself the loss of another son. That loving him isn’t just a burden in an existence she would prefer to control all aspects of.
‘You would do well to teach decent manners to your artist friend. I heard that his behaviour as a guest was questionable.’
Charles hardly shoves down the itch to give her an explicit summary of Loris’ questionable behaviour under her roof. He slams his door and presses his forehead against the wood.
The sadness he was keeping a rein on breaks free, steered out by the tears he should have cried throughout the years, every time Alice denied him a comforting word or embrace.
He used to think she knew better than everybody and had been entrusted with an upbringing recipe that mothers who consoled their kids had no clue about. Later on, he learnt to hide when he was in need of tenderness, because her indifference was easier to handle if it felt like his own doing.
He stopped making excuses for his mother’s incapability to act like one when he met Elsy’s parents. For all the personality traits thatCatriona shares with Alice, she’s never failed to address and soothe her daughter’s heartaches. So Charles came to terms with the reality that the woman who had given him life had nothing else to offer.
But acceptance didn’t make it any less hurtful. It never healed the bruises in his mind and the cuts etched deep in his heart.
And at this very moment, they’re throbbing all at once.
***
Charles left his house in a daze, his feet leading him to the North Haven. Fortunately, George replied to his SOS text before he arrived at the pub.
It would have been damaging if Charles had broached his family situation with Loris while in such a state. He was out of his senses the one time he talked about Fred, and he hated the incoherence of his confessions and how that scared Loris. Besides, Charles promised to let him rest between his late shift and his rugby day tomorrow, but Loris would have begged him to spend the night upon perceiving his pain.
This certainty has healing powers, and Charles rubs it onto his chest like an ointment.
Unable to back out of a commitment, George added Charles’ name to the guest list of the launch party of a start-up.
The room is filled with tech geniuses, too busy grandstanding to notice Charles’ gloomy mood. He’s leaning on a glass table, twisting an undrinkable luminescent cocktail, trying to find logic in the mosaic of flashing lights on the ceiling.
George only needed a brief summary of what happened with Aliceto turn owlish. ‘Let me mingle for half an hour, then you’re in charge of the programme.’
Charles is torn about that. Pizzas and a film sound like heaven, but depriving George of a night out on a Saturday would be a poor way to thank him for his sanity-saving availability.
‘Bad news!’ George appears in front of him. ‘Gracie will sing my praises in her speech, so I’d like to wait for it.’
‘It’s alright. I love watching you preen.’
‘And good news!’
‘Who did you blackmail to get those?’ Charles snatches one of the bottles of Heineken that George just raised. ‘They glared at me as if I had run their dogs over when I tried to order anything that didn’t look like a melted orgy of Pokémon.’
‘Interesting visual… I asked the bartender what they keep in the staffroom. But the clever bastard sensed my desperation. Fifteen quid each. Don’t waste any!’
Charles spat out some of his first mouthful.
‘Damn. Next round is on me.’
