‘I wish you all the best. I hope it works out for you, really, I do. I’ll always have a job for you, if you ever decide to come home. I mean it.’ She placed a warm hand on my back, as she opened her office door.
Clara sat behind her computer on reception, her face pointed into a downward pinch. She knew exactly what I had done, and I got the distinct impression she wasn’t impressed.
‘Wednesday Wine Club?’ I suggested the usual midweek drink.
‘I’ve got an awful feeling I’m going to need one.’ She flicked her black hair back from her shoulders, eyebrows raised. I blew her a kiss as I walked into my surgery, holding back the tears.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WEDNESDAY 14TH NOVEMBER
I sat in the usual spot in the Italian restaurant, waiting for my mother to arrive, pretty sure she would be even less pleased than Maria and Clara about my news. She arrived, the image of glamour in a slim-fitting pencil dress, attracting stares from the neighbouring tables. She could easily pass for forty instead of fifty. I only hoped I got those genetics.
‘Hello, darling.’ She pecked my cheek, no doubt leaving her usual trademark cerise lipstick all over me, and slid into the seat opposite, already looking round for the waiter to order our usual glass of wine.
‘Mum. You look great. How are you?’
‘Good, darling, thanks. I’d be better if I could get a glass of wine, it’s been a long day.’ My mum worked as an administrative manager in the hospital.
The waiter must have felt eyes penetrating the back of his head as he cleared a nearby table. He came over immediately after he had finished.
‘I’ll have a glass of red please.’ She gestured for him to bring another one for me as well. However much she thought she needed it before, she surely would in a few minutes.
‘So, what’s up?’ She turned her attention to me, lines of concern creasing her forehead.
‘Nothing’s up.’ I took an enormous gulp of my wine.
‘Sweetie, I knew you before you even knew yourself. What’s eating you?’
May as well crack on with it so. ‘I resigned. From Maria’s.’
‘What? Why would you do that? You love that job.’ Surprise formed in her features, and no wonder. I’d repeatedly told her how much I adored working there.
I looked down at the table, trying to find the right words to tell her I was leaving.
‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ It suddenly dawned on her.
I nodded my head, lost for words.
‘Honey, do you not think it’s a bit soon? For God’s sake, the ink is barely dry on your divorce papers.’ She was worried, but I also sensed a little anger with me for leaving her again. I hated disappointing her, and that was exactly what I was doing.
‘I love him, Mum. I’ve just got this undeniable feeling in my gut that it’s the right thing. I really think he is the one.’
‘You know I’m all about the gut instinct, Lucy, and I hate to say it, but you thought you were doing the right thing when you married Rob – look how that turned out.’ Ouch. Talk about brutally honest. Not many people could get away with it, but if my own mother couldn’t tell me straight, then nobody could.
‘Everyone makes mistakes, Mum,’ I reminded her gently.
‘I just want the best for you,’ she said. ‘And I don’t think running off to Ireland is going to solve your problems.’
‘I’m not running anywhere. I gave Maria eight-weeks-notice, but the way Christmas is falling with holidays my last day will be Thursday the twentieth of December.’
‘That’s only six weeks away,’ she exclaimed. ‘Do you really think this is the right choice? Is it not just an infatuation? The seven year itch maybe?’ She tried to reason with me.
‘I’ve never felt an itch like it, if that’s what it is.’
‘I’m worried about you. And I hate the thought of losing you again,’ she confessed.
‘It’s not far, Mum.’ I may as well have been talking to the wall.
