I had imagined Lulu would want to come home. Celebrate with me. It hasn’t escaped my notice that the unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach reminds me of a childhood spent hoping for approval and never quite getting it.
I haven’t mentioned the weekend getaway I’ve booked. My plan is to surprise her, pick her up mid-afternoon tomorrow and not tell her where we’re going or what we’re doing. I push my doubts to the back of my mind. Over the weekend, I’ll open up and tell Lulu how I feel, and ask her to do the same. Come Monday, these insecurities will all be history.
The partners’ dinner is, as always, at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Personally, I think the food is sub-par, particularly for the prices they charge, but most of the partners wouldn’t know a good meal if it bit them on the arse, and are more concerned with the location, décor and who is eating at the other tables.
I offer to pick my mother up on my way, but she assures me there is no need, and when I arrive at the restaurant, I understand why. Standing next to her, sipping a glass of no doubt expensive champagne, is Eleanor.
I can feel my blood pressure spiking as I take in the scene. The woman I love is having the most important night of her life, and I’m not there. I’m here at what will no doubt be a very boring work function. With the two women in the world I would pay good money to avoid. My instinct is to turn and leave. But I can’t do that to Harry.
“Nicholas, darling.” Mum air kisses me and misses by a country mile. “As always, you’re late. It’s lucky I suggested Eleanor come with me; otherwise, she would have been cooling her heels at home waiting for you.”
“Mother. A word?” I take her arm and lead her away with barely a glance at Eleanor.
“That was rude, Nicholas. You didn’t even acknowledge Eleanor, let alone greet her properly.” She throws a smile over her shoulder at a irritated Eleanor.
“What is she doing here?”
“Well, I mentioned the dinner and asked what she would be wearing, and she said you hadn’t said anything about it. Which, I assured her, must have been an oversight. So, I suggested she come with me and meet you here. You’re welcome.”
“How dare you interfere in my private life? Not to mention I believe I made my position on Eleanor crystal clear—to both of you, Mother.” A glass of champagne is thrust into my hand, and I can barely contain the urge to hurl it across the room.
“Nonsense. You can’t have been serious. What would people say if you were to attend without Eleanor? Once you get these ridiculous ideas out of your head, you’ll thank me. It’s past time you started making public plans for your future.”
“As it happens, Mother, I am making plans. But not with Eleanor.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice down and an expression of pleasant disinterest on my face.
“And what do those plans entail, may I ask? Shacking up with some tramp who will only hold you back? I will not have it. Now pull yourself together and do the right thing.” Mum’s tone is nails on the blackboard of my soul, raising childhood memories I’ve fought to forget.
My heart is pounding, and I can feel my ears burning. I’m having trouble not losing my temper hearing her refer to Lulu so rudely.
“No, you may not ask. You have proven yourself incapable of respecting any boundaries in my life. This relationship is important to me, and Iwill nottolerate your interference. Nor will I tolerate you speaking about her in such terms.” I realise this is the first time I have admitted to my mother there is, indeed, a relationship happening, and it feels like a new beginning.
“I see. You imagine yourself in love, do you?”
“Again, none of your business. But she is someone I very much hope will be part of my future, and I won’t have you trying to manipulate me—or her.”
I watch as Mum processes this. I begin to hope the message has been received.
“It’s very evident to me, based on both your behaviour and Eleanor’s description, this woman is highly unsuitable. I will not countenance any more of this silliness.”
“She’s perfectly suitable. For me. And that is all I care to say on the matter. Now I will be polite to Eleanor because she doesn’t deserve to be humiliated in front of the entire restaurant, but I warn you, if youeverpull a stunt like this again, I will rain down hellfire like you have never seen. Do I make myself clear?”
She leans forward and whispers in my ear. “This is neither the time nor the place. We will discuss this later.” And with a monumental display of arrogance, my mother walks away in a drift of expensive perfume. Freeing me, at last, from any regrets I might have been harbouring.
I do my best to avoid Mum and Eleanor during pre-dinner drinks, but of course, as Eleanor is mypartner, we are seated together at dinner.
As the night drags on with no word from Lulu, my leg begins to jiggle, drawing irritated glances from my mother. Between the main course and dessert, a photographer arrives. Harry is always on the prowl for public relations opportunities, so I assume he organised this to promote the anniversary of the founding of the firm. Groups of us are herded together and somehow, I find myself with Eleanor clinging to my arm, which is beyond a shadow of a doubt my mother’s doing. “Cut it out,” I whisper and push her hand away, earning yet another eyebrow from Mum.
No sooner do I think things are starting to wind down and I can escape than waiters appear en masse with bottles of very expensive champagne, pouring glasses for everyone at the table. My mother stands and taps her glass with her unused dessert spoon.
“I would like to take this opportunity to make an exciting announcement.”
A cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach I begin to rise from my seat to stop her, knowing I’m not going to like what I hear. I register Eleanor is also rising beside me, moving close as though to take my arm again. I’m about to tell her to sit down when my mother continues.
“My son, Nicholas, and the beautiful Eleanor Whitford are engaged to be married, which will coincide with him running for a seat in parliament at the next federal election.”
The table erupts in cheers, and I’m frozen to the spot. I know my mother will stop at almost nothing to get what she wants, but this went further than I could ever have imagined possible. My mind returns to our earlier conversation. The woman is completely out of control. It takes me a minute to realise Eleanor is clinging to my arm, accepting the congratulations of those around us.
Making a scene goes against the training that’s been drilled into me every day of my life. But I can’t let this stand. I step away from Eleanor’s clinging hand.
