“Maybe if you’d been more welcoming, he wouldn’t have cheated.”
That gets a loud bark of what could be laughter out of Pop.
“And maybe if you had listened to me and stayed well clear of him, none of this would’ve happened. But then we’d not have Sadie, so I can’t regret it. I only regret you can’t be more reasonable now.”
“Me, be reasonable? He’s the one who buggered off. And she”—Mum turns and points a shaking finger at me—“chases after him at every opportunity.”
Words of denial are locked in my throat. Years of learning to stay still and quiet and not draw attention to myself hold them back.
“That’s enough.” Nan doesn’t often put her foot down. She’s always the peacemaker. But she has her limit.
“Enough? Enough? It’s me who’s had enough. Of ungrateful daughters and disloyal parents. I’m leaving.”
Mum storms upstairs, and Nan, Pop and I sit silently as we hear banging and shouting and groaning—from Liam—before Mum thunders back downstairs, suitcase and a bedraggled-looking Liam in tow.
Minutes later, there’s a screech of tyres and they’re gone.
“Oh, dear,” sighs Nan.
“More prawns for us,” says Pop, rubbing his hands together.
I don’t realise I’m crying until Nan wipes my cheeks.
“Oh, darling girl. Don’t cry. None of this is your fault.”
“No, it effing isn’t,” grouses Pop. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him drop the f-bomb, but that was close.
“I’m not going to see my father,” I whisper.
“Even if you were, sweetheart, that would be okay. You’re entitled to want a relationship with him if you choose.” Nan pours a big glass of white wine and pushes it across the counter at me, then pours one for herself.
“Your mother is angry at herself. Not you,” Pop adds. “She was warned about him—not just by us—and she didn’t listen. She had such goals. A career all planned out. She allowed him to derail that. Now she’s bitter and disappointed with her life. She’s jealous of what you’re achieving. And it’s easier to blame others than to admit responsibility.” He sits on the stool next to me and wraps his arm across my shoulders. “None of that is your fault. All we can do in life is make our choices and live with the consequences, and if it turns out badly, well, that’s on us.”
I drop my head on his shoulder, and the three of us sit in silence for a moment. I wish things were different with my mother, and not just because it would make my life easier. Bearing witness to so much regret and bitterness is hard. For all of us.
“Now, how about we get this lobster on the grill and enjoy our Christmas lunch, hey?” Pop stands up and drops a kiss on my head. “Then I want to hear all about how your PhD is going.”
As I gorge on lobster with garlic butter, prawns, salad, and Nan’s signature pavlova with passionfruit, I think about what a cautionary tale my mother is. I have to remember to keep my goals, my career, my needs, front and centre. Because it’s the best way to make sure I don’t end up as bitter and angry as Mum.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ethan
I’ve been in Egypt for a couple of weeks, and although Sadie arrives tomorrow, I’m still not ready to see her.
Ashraf, my Egyptian project manager, picked me up at the airport. We met on the first dig I came on over ten years ago. Five years later, he was the first team member I recruited when I secured a concession as dig director, and he’s become one of my best friends. I’d trust him with my life, and on a couple of occasions I’ve had to.
“You look tired, my friend,” Ashraf commented as we made our way through the crowded arrivals hall to a taxi he had waiting.
“It’s a long flight.” I couldn’t look him in the eye as I responded. It had nothing to do with the long flight, and everything to do with anxiety about how the dig would go. He knows me well enough not to buy a disingenuous response. Fortunately, he didn’t persist. Just nodded silently and patted my shoulder as the taxi took off towards my regular hotel.
“Rest tonight. Tomorrow is time enough to start work.”
Knowing Sadie would be joining me here in a matter of weeks was unsettling me, to say the least, making my arrival bittersweet.
I had been looking forward to putting some physical space between us in the hope the time apart would lessen the connection. Having her on the dig will mean the opposite. We’ll be living and working together in close quarters for six weeks. Whether we like it or not, I suspect this dig will resolve our relationship. Or lack of one.
I don’t even want to think about what dramas being so close to Riley might create.
