“University? Oxford, Cambridge…?”
“No university,” I just say.
“What does that mean?”
“I didn’t go to university. I attended a course in Cosmetology after leaving school.”
She sighs heavily, exchanging looks with Margaret. “You wasted your time, as far as I can see.”
“Not really, as it was my job until a few days ago. I worked as a theatrical make-up artist for a musical production.” Delphina appears to have been hit by a thousand volt shock.
“Theatrical make-up artist?”
“Yes, I did the actors’ make-up before they went on stage.” I say.
“How ridiculous…” my mother-in-law murmurs to herself. That’s it, I’ve had enough.
“Well, for a woman like you, working for a living must be ridiculous. Brace yourself, because I’m going to say something that will upset you quite a lot: I have never been ashamed of my work and I am certainly not starting now.”
Delphina gives me a flaming look, crossing her arms austerely.
“I’ll be brief. My son married you, but I do not understand why. Love? I doubt it. Infatuation? That’s most likely. In any case, as soon as he gets to know you better, he will realise that you’re not suitable for him. After just ten minutes in your company, I’ve already detected a long list of inadequacies. Nonetheless, until my son starts thinking again, I must ensure that you do not cause any more embarrassment to our family.”
Family? Is thisThe Godfatheror something?
“I can tell you one thing for sure,” I say, pointing my finger at Delphina and her lady-in-waiting. “You’d better not start a war against me.” With a leap, I stand up from the armchair and head towards the door. “Now, ladies, I’m going to indulge in a long bath and I won’t see you again until dinner.”
That said, I leave.
What is the way back to my room, though?
12
Ashford’s Version
Years ago, someone gave me a book calledThe Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook.
As the title suggests, it provides concise instructions on how to escape from the most diverse emergencies, from defusing a bomb to landing a plane or delivering someone’s baby in a taxi, but none of the chapters contemplated this kind of scenario: control freak mother meets feral daughter-in-law after hasty marriage.
I really wish I had instructions. If there were a chapter on this topic, the solution would certainly be ‘run as far away as you can’.
Jemma and my mother met two hours ago and there has been the same relaxed atmosphere one would expect on the Gaza strip in the house: ground to air missiles and men armed to the teeth. Lance and I, specifically.
I am confused. I’m usually pretty sure of myself but recent events have disorientated me: too much chaos, too many threats, too many ultimatums. If I were asked how I feel, I wouldn’t know what to answer.
Relieved: I no longer have insurmountable debts with the banks.
A hostage: I’m married to the human equivalent of an armed nuclear weapon.
Freed: women will no longer compete to sit next to me at dinners.
A moving target: my mother will torment me with her complaints about Jemma.
Avenged: with Jemma as her daughter-in-law, my mother is on her way to a perforating ulcer.
Deprived of my rights: I hardly have a say in my own house. I’m the duke but apparently nobody cares.
How did I get to complicate my life like this?
