Of course, he’s always true to himself: in his kind proposal I understand that my parents can stay, but away from anyone who can see them, hear them or bump into them.
“Ashford you’re so sweet!” My mother chirps, then she enters through the front door and greets Delphina. “Namasté.”
My father greets her with a nod of his head, whistlingSatisfactionby the Rolling Stones.
“Margaret,” barks my mother-in-law. “My smelling salts!”
40
Ashford’s Version
I knew it was only a matter of minutes before my mother dumped her bile on me.
She follows me, slipping into my room a moment before I can close the door.
“Have you lost your mind? You can’t really believe that I intend to keep those freaks in my house?”
I ignore her, as I look at myself in the mirror and adjust the knot of my tie. “Yup.”
“Yup?Do you know who you are? What your name is? This is Denby Hall, one of the oldest residences in England!”
“We’re opening the doors of this ancient residence to them, just like they opened their own to us.”
My mother shakes her head, immersed in her thoughts. “No. This decision is nothing more than a mistake, and now you will go and explain that it was only a misunderstanding…”
“I won’t do that.”
Just to be clear, this is not my umpteenth low blow to irritate my mother and see her lose her temper for my entertainment.
Jemma feels lonely and secluded. She’s light years away from the life she’s always lived, so she has the right to be close to the people she loves. I’m not one of them. I’ll eat some humble pie and step back: I acknowledge her efforts and my mistakes; the one who’s working hard is her, not me. This is the least I can do.
I have so many flaws, but I’m not ungrateful. It’s no longer a matter of money between us, I’m talking about moral debt. And I want to show her that I’m nothing like what Carter Willoughby may have told her, because if he talked about me, I’m sure it was to criticise me to his advantage.
“I do not recognise you any more, where is my son? First, you marry a miss nobody without a past or a future. Then you welcome those jailbirds with open arms…”
With a firm grip, I grab her wrist which she moves nervously. “They are honest and kind hearted people. Yes, they look odd, but I didn’t see any sign of opportunism in their eyes, and I can’t exactly say the same about you, can I? When was the last time you did anything spontaneous, something which was not calculated? Eh, mother?”
“I… I…”
“You say you do not recognise me, but have you ever really known me? I was raised by an army of nannies and then I was sent from one school to the other until I was old enough to go to dinners without bursting into tears or throwing up caviar in the ballroom.”
“Now you’re blaming me for something I’m not guilty of.”
“Whose guilt is it, then?”
“All this has never bothered you.”
“Have you ever asked me if it did?” I ask her, visibly pissed off.
“I…”
“No, you haven’t,” I say, and then I turn towards the door to leave the room.
“We aren’t done yet.”
“I have a Parliamentary session for which I’m already late, so yes, we’re done.”
As I leave the room, I hear her mutter: “If you had married Portia, all this would have never happened.”
