It wasn’t quite reassuring enough. He hadn’t, she noticed, criticised Annabelle or sought to distance himself from her.
‘Well that’s a relief.’
‘She’ll love you.’
Again, it wasn’t what Kate had needed to hear.
The subject had been dropped. Jake told her their closeness was because he was the only boy, and the eldest, and as such Annabelle relied on him. But it seemed odd she didn’t turn to her daughters or to her husband, Jake’s father. ‘Oh, Chris isn’t much good at that sort of thing,’ Jake said, with a matter-of-factness that suggested he was parroting someone else’s long-held view. He called his father by his first name when he wanted to diminish him.
‘What sort of thing?’ she asked.
‘I mean, he’s very affable and nice and all that, but he doesn’t have much of a backbone. Mum’s the strong one.’
‘I thought he was a doctor?’
‘Retired GP. He was never exactly a high-flyer.’
‘What about your sisters?’
He flinched.
‘It’s tricky. Two of them live abroad, and Millie never calls …’
‘Your mum could still call them.’
‘She does. But we’ve always been close.’
He would turn back to whatever he was doing – watching a rugby match on TV with his arm around her shoulders; flicking through a book on business management strategy – and that would be that. He never seemed to sense any subtext or ulterior motive to Kate’s questions. He always thought the best of her, and would take what she said at face value. It was part of his unconscious charm, she knew, and she couldn’t have it both ways.
So his family was a topic best avoided. Besides, Annabelle and Chris lived hundreds of miles away in Tewkesbury and as long as Kate didn’t have to spend time with them, she supposed she was fine with it.
But then the invitation came, via one of the Sunday evening phone calls. Jake was sitting on the sofa as usual and Kate had moved to the bedroom to flick through one of the newspaper supplements. She heard him talking.
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘All good, thanks.’
‘Oh, not too busy this week actually. The deal went through, so that’s good.’
‘Yes.’
‘Mm-hmm.’
‘Oh. OK. Yup.’
‘Well she’s not with me actually. Let me ask her.’
He had walked through the doorway towards the bed, phone outstretched.
‘It’s my mum,’ Jake said. ‘She wants to talk to you.’
Kate had the strangest feeling she was about to be told off, as if Annabelle were going to inform her in no uncertain terms that she was not good enough for her much-adored son. She didn’t take the phone, but put up the hood of her sweatshirt, burrowing her head deeper inside the soft cotton like a child. She didn’t know why she did it. Jake shook the phone at her, mouthing, ‘Take it!’
She reached out, and pressed the phone to her ear.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi. Kate?’
