‘I will,’ Claire said, glad she had an excuse to ring him. If he was offhand with her, at least she could cover her embarrassment by saying her mother had insisted she call so she was only following orders.
‘I miss Luca,’ Espie said.
‘Me too.’ Claire sighed. ‘Me too.’
‘Hi, honey, I’m home,’ Claire called, as she let herself into the house the next evening. She had spent all day at work rehearsing her phone call to Luca and was resolved to make it as soon as she had finished helping her mother get the food ready for tonight’s gathering. In her more optimistic moments, she thought maybe she would even persuade him to come.
She was greeted with silence. Her mother didn’t respond as she usually did, like a cheery fifties housewife, with some crack about having her martini ready orfetching her pipe and slippers. She was probably in the loo, Claire told herself, trying to shake the sense of foreboding that settled on her, but as soon as she stepped into the kitchen, she knew something was wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the house felt different somehow. A thought came into her head:There’s nobody here.
She raced to the stairs, her heart pounding as if she already knew. When she pushed open the door of her mother’s room, she found her lying on the bed, her head at a slightly awkward angle, her shoes kicked off on the floor beside her.
It took a split second, and then it hit her like a series of punches to the solar plexus that kept coming, robbing her of breath, draining the strength from her muscles so she fell to the floor, every thought in her head reduced to a single word that repeated on a loop.No.
The next hours passed in a blur of phone calls, tears and her brothers’ ashen faces as they turned up at the hospital. Later, the three of them went back to the house and Claire made tea. As she switched on the kettle, she noticed the bowl of raw cake batter on the worktop, the spoon abandoned as if mid-stir, and she realised that that was what she had seen when she came home, without registering it. On some subliminal level, she had noticed it and known that her mother was dead.
‘Do you want one of us to stay the night?’ Ronan asked her.
‘No,’ she whispered, pressing a tissue to her raw eyes. ‘Thanks, but I’m fine.’
‘Are you sure?’ Neil asked.
‘Yes. You should go home.’
They all agreed there was nothing they could do fornow, so they might as well go home and try to get some sleep.
‘We’ll be back first thing in the morning,’ Neil said, as they left.
She had never felt so alone as she did when she had closed the door behind them. Already the house felt so empty, like the heart of it was missing – the thing that had made it home. She went into the living room and flopped onto the sofa, letting the tears roll down her face, too numb even to wipe her eyes with a tissue. She didn’t know how she’d ever have the energy to get up and go to bed. Maybe she should have got someone to stay, so she would be forced to behave in a more normal fashion. But suddenly she knew there was only one person she wanted now.
She had been so afraid of calling him lately, but now she grabbed her mobile from her bag and dialled Luca’s number without a second thought. It didn’t even occur to her to worry that it was Friday night and he might be out.
He answered quickly. ‘Hi, Claire.’ She tried to decide if he sounded distant or cold, but she couldn’t tell.
‘Hi.’ She took a deep breath, meaning to break the news gently. But then she just said ‘Mum died tonight,’ her voice breaking on a sob, and then she was howling, unable to say any more.
‘Oh no!’ Luca gasped. ‘Jesus, I’m so sorry.’
She gulped, trying to control her sobbing so she could speak. ‘I was wondering if— if you could come over. If you can’t, that’s fine?—’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll be there right away.’
‘Okay.’ She sniffed, tears coursing down her face. ‘Thanks.’
She couldn’t settle to anything as she waited for Luca to arrive. She sat, she stood, she paced. She turned on the TV and turned it off again a few minutes later when sherealised she was staring unseeingly at it. She was so agitated, she felt as if she would start clawing her own skin off if he didn’t turn up soon. When the bell rang, she raced to the door and threw it open, sobbing with relief when she saw Luca standing in the porch. She didn’t even say hello before she threw herself at him. His arms came around her, vice-like, and he lifted her off the ground, carrying her into the house and kicking the door closed behind them. Then they just stood in the hallway, clinging to each other. Luca held her so tightly, it was as if he was trying to pull her inside his skin.
‘What happened?’ he asked, when her sobs finally subsided. She drew back to look at him, and his eyes were shining with tears.
‘She had a heart attack. I came home from work and found her.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. There were streaks of red paint on his face, and his hands were covered with a motley assortment of blues and yellows. He must have been working and dropped everything as soon as she called.
‘Can you stay?’ she asked hoarsely, her throat raw from crying.
‘Whatever you want.’
‘I mean, stay the night – with me. As a friend…’
‘I know what you mean.’ He kissed her forehead.
