Damn. It seems we are that transparent.
Mum barely takes a breath before she continues. “Is this about sowing your wild oats? Because if that’s the case, a discrete affair will take care of it. There’s no need to upend your entire life, your very future, for a bit of fun, Nicholas.” I can’t suppress the shudder of distaste at her words. I have long suspected this was the arrangement she had with my father and she’s all but confirmed it. But it’s not the life for me.
“This is about nothing more than Eleanor and I not being suited.” I’d give anything to get out of here right now. I’m grateful for my years of legal training. I know my face is an unreadable mask, but I can feel myself shifting in my chair, my knee starting to jiggle, which will piss mum off even further. I wish Claire was here.
“You must be joking. She’s the perfect match for you—smart, beautiful, well-connected. She’s precisely the sort of woman you need on your arm. Particularly when you enter politics.”
“Again, more your idea than mine. Yours and Dad’s. And to be frank, I’m no longer convinced it’s the right path for me.” I don’t address her comments about Eleanor. One battle front at a time, and I’d rather discuss her ambitions for my political career than Eleanor. That takes me too close to Lulu, and if Mum gets the idea she and Eleanor are on the right track, she’ll make it her business to interfere, I have no doubt.
Mum couldn’t look more horrified if I’d told her I was joining the circus.
“Now I know you’re joking. I won’t have it, Nicholas. It was your father’s dying wish. We worked on this plan for years. You can’t simply change your mind on a whim. And Richard has already spoken to people in the party. They’re very keen to have you. All you have to do is say the word and the seat is yours. Yet here you are, breaking it off with his daughter. I can smooth it over with him right now, but you’ll have to call Eleanor and …”
I cut her off with a raised palm before she can continue. “No. Absolutely not. Eleanor and I are over. Apart from anything else, you and Richard might be surprised to learn my political views don’t reflect yours or those of the party. They would be sadly disappointed by my position on a whole range of issues.” This is the first time I have fully articulated—even to myself—that I don’t want to go into politics. I can almost see the wheels turning in Mum’s head.
Mum’s lips are pursed, eyes narrowed, and her damn eyebrow is up again.
“There’s something afoot here, and believe me when I tell you, I will get to the bottom of it. Apart from anything else, Angela and I have been friends for years. How am I supposed to tell her you’ve dropped her very eligible daughter like a hot scone?” I have to suppress a laugh. As usual, it’s all about external appearances for Mum.
“You don’t have to tell Angela anything. I think I have made my position clear to Eleanor, and it is nobody else’s business but ours.” I shudder at the thought of going back to such a cold-blooded relationship.
“Well, I think you might be wrong about that. I told Eleanor this is simply a hiccup. You need to wake up to yourself and put things right. Immediately. Before it’s too late.”
I can feel my entire body tensing, and I’m in danger of crushing the glass I’m holding. A large part of me wants to tell her I’ve moved on, but if she gets wind of my relationship with Lulu, there’s no telling what ends she might go to. Despite the fact Mum is an art lover, she would never countenance me being in a relationship with someone like Lulu MacLeod, and it would be entirely in character—and not the first time—for her to poison any relationship that did not suit her agenda. It may have worked when I was a kid, but it won’t work now.
“I said it’s over and I meant it. I will not have you dictating my life. One more word and I will be out the door.” She looks disgruntled at the granite in my tone.
From behind me, I hear a slow clap. It can only be one person, and thank God she’s here.
“Well done, Mum. Trying to tell a grown man how to live his life. Classic.” Claire stalks into the room, dressed as usual in artfully distressed but wildly expensive clothes.
“Telling him how to live his life? You’re being melodramatic. I am merely pointing out the foolishness of his behaviour,” Mum answers with an exasperated sigh. I give Claire a thank-God-you’re-here look, and she responds with a silent ‘I’ve got your back’. We may be almost polar opposites in personality, but we’ve always been close. Two lonely children being brought up in an emotional wasteland.
“I missed the first half of this conversation. Is she trying to foist The Ice Princess on you again?” Claire pours herself a generous glass of wine and plops down next to me where I’ve made room for her on the sofa, kicking off her shoes and propping her feet on the coffee table because she knows how much it drives Mum crazy, as does any physical display of affection, so I throw an arm across Claire’s shoulder and hug her to my chest.
“Don’t call her names,” snaps Mum, at the same time as I reply, “Yes.” Claire and I laugh. Mum purses her lips and attempts to change the subject.
“It’s nice of you to grace us with your presence, Claire. I had begun to forget what you look like.”
“Well, take a quick picture. I’m only here for dinner, then I’m out. Won’t be back tonight.” My sister is the wild child in the family. Being the youngest and a girl, my father had little interest in her, so she was largely left to her own devices.
I know virtually nothing about Lulu’s family, but I have overheard her speaking to her father on the phone once or twice. The warmth in her tone and the teasing way she talks to him suggest a closeness Claire never had with Dad, or Mum, for that matter. And there I go again. I’m thinking about Lulu. It must show on my face because Claire elbows me in the ribs.
“What’s put that smile on your face?”
“I can’t be happy to see my baby sister for the first time in weeks?”
“You can, but something tells me that’s not it.” Under her breath, she adds, “Fill me in later.”
After a frosty dinner, during which we all avoid any personal topics of conversation, I offer to give Claire a lift to the city and she heads upstairs to change, leaving me alone with Mum again.
“Don’t think this is the last of this conversation, Nicholas.” Again, with the eyebrow.
“Which conversation would you be referring to, Mum?” She’s going to have to work for it.
“Your future, Nicholas. Your career in politics, and your relationship with Eleanor. There is nobody more suitable. She’s patient, but she won’t wait forever, and well you know it.”
“Not going to happen, Mum.” I turn and call up the stairs, “Hurry up, Claire.” I need out of this house. Now. Before I say something I might regret.
