His lips thinned. ‘Possibly. Even Sybil, who renounced any sniff of showbusiness and embraced academia and a resolutely single life, constantly bangs on at me to “settle down”. All Becky and Maria ever talk about is how great life at sea was, how many countries they saw, the partying. So why don’t they accept that’s what I wanted too?’
‘What people say and the truth is rarely the same,’ she added gently.
Johnny was silent for a long time, staring out at the beach, now rammed with deck chairs and towels and happy families. Shaking his head, he blew out a huge sigh and then laughed. ‘And I should know, having seen that exact same thing in action time after time in my job.’ He snorted. ‘And yet I never applied the knowledge to my own family.’ He slapped a palm to his forehead. ‘I’m an idiot.’
Callie put her hand on his. ‘No you’re not,’ she said kindly. ‘You’re just too close to them all to see them as people in their own right.’ She’d said the same repeatedly to her students.
He turned to her and smiled. It took her breath away. ‘It’s true. I’m in my mid-forties and still, even now, react like a child when I’m with my family. Despite her rallying cry for us all to couple up, go forth and procreate and have careers in something financially lucrative, I suspect Mum would have loved at leastone of us to follow in her show biz footsteps; she occasionally makes her disappointment pretty clear. Becky and Maria never married or had children, so they regard us all as their surrogates; they don’t hold back their opinions. Thank goodness, despite Sybil’s peculiar ways, she at least shows a genuine appreciation in how we’ve chosen to live our lives.’
‘Tell me about your sisters.’
He rubbed a thoughtful hand over his chin and Callie could hear the stubble rasp. ‘I suppose, when you think about it, we’ve all gone our own way, quietly defying them on our own terms. Mixed results though. Kicking back in a passive aggressive way. Stella hasn’t a creative or showbusiness bone in her body but she’s more like Mum than she realises. Her wedding to Brian was spectacular. Mum organised for a troupe of actors to sing show tunes fromSalad Days.’He laughed at Callie’s confusion. ‘It’s a rather twee stage musical which at one point features a Cleopatra style seductress. Guess who dressed up in a green snake costume and was the star of the show?’
‘She didn’t!’
‘I can assure you she did. Search outAsphynxiaon YouTube for the full horror.’ Johnny’s lips quirked as he allowed Callie a moment to picture the scene. ‘Isabel is a more subdued version of Stella. Lesley is like me; doesn’t have much to do with the family. We have no idea what she does except it’s something to do with high-end forensic accounting. Whateverthatis. Gets Mum totally exasperated as, despite claiming she wants us all to have financially secure careers, she actually considers anything “officey” dull and dry and anything to do with money distasteful.’
He shook his head. ‘Total enigma and contradictory to boot, is my mother. Lesley stays in London as much as she can, I think distance is the only thing that keeps her sane but both she and Isabel suffered the same interference in their weddings.If you think my mother can throw a spectacular party, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve attended a Starling daughter’s wedding. Mum controls everything with military precision and thinly veiled hysteria. We had ice sculptures at Lesley’s as hers was a December wedding. It was a mild winter and they melted all over the marquee carpet. We were an inch deep in water. Oh,’ he said, as a thought occurred. ‘We also had a colour theme at that one. Everyone was instructed, on pain of death, to wear red and green. Mum stood at the entrance of the hotel and turned anyone away who wouldn’t look right on the photographs.’
Callie gasped. ‘She didn’t actually turn guests away?’
‘Oh she did. Brooks no opposition, does my mother. Most lived near enough to go home, get changed and be back in time for the wedding breakfast but one couple had to drive into town and buy something new. She’s really something and even in her seventies isn’t showing any signs of slowing up.’
Johnny shook his head wearily and then smiled. ‘The only one who is really upfront about ploughing her own furrow is Jess. Maybe she gets away with it because she’s the baby, or perhaps Mum is slowing down after all. Jess has been with Connor since school. As far as I know, they’d never contemplated marriage, or even getting engaged.’ He pulled a face. ‘And then one day, out of the blue, they eloped. Mum was apoplectic. She hadn’t been allowed to orchestrate the wedding in her unique style and to her own exacting standards.’
‘Oh dear,’ Callie murmured, thinking she would have done exactly the same as Jess and Connor.
‘You’d think, having ruled the roost on every decision in three weddings, Mum would have retired gracefully but Jess caught wind of Mum and The Aunts gleefully discussing how impressive an Arthurian themed wedding, complete with a mock Camelot castle, would be.’
‘That would be something.’ Callie agreed, stifling a giggle. ‘Each to his own. I’ve been to quite a few themed weddings in my time, but none have stretched the concept quite that far.’
‘Mum and Maria love the theatricality of it all and Becky follows on wherever Maria leads. After this conversation, I’ve only just realised how much they miss their showbusiness life. Doesn’t excuse overriding the wishes of everyone else though.’
‘Particularly what the happy couple want.’
‘I completely agree. And, if anything, I think they’ve all got worse as they’ve got older.’
‘They make my family pale into insignificance.’
‘Enough about me. I’ve gone on far too long.’ Johnny broke the shortbread biscuit, which had come with his coffee, into two and gave her half.
‘Thank you,’ Callie said, as she accepted it.
‘So, Calliope. I remember you saying you had a difficult relationship with your family. Have you ever been able to see your parents as people in their own right?’
‘Ah.’ Callie stalled for time and ate the shortbread. It was sweet and gritty with sugar so she drank what seemed to be her millionth cup of tea that morning. Her story was dull and colourless in comparison. It made her feel inadequate. ‘My problem was I saw my parents forexactlywho they were. Deeply conservative, rigid in their thinking and view of the world, with a nice side order of racism.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Exactly.’ She paused and then went on. Might as well get the sorry truth out there. ‘My brother and I had a strict timetable. Same food for breakfast every day, same rota of dull meals each week, nourishing but like something from the fifties. “We’ll have no foreign muck like chilli or lasagne in this house,” my mother often said. Homework four to five, reading until tea, then bedand lights out at eight, without question and no matter how old we got.’
Johnny frowned. ‘No television?’
‘They didn’t own one. We had to read and that was limited to the classics. No comics, no felt pens to colour in or draw with. We were allowed Sunday School every week where we absorbed pictures of a blond blue-eyed Jesus welcoming little children onto his knee and who preached turn the other cheek and forgiveness.’
‘God,’ Johnny said, appalled.
‘Don’t think God had an awful lot to do with it. Neither did forgiveness. My brother conformed, let it all float over his head, married someone suitable when very young, I think to escape as soon as possible, and then provided them with grandchildren.’
