“Yes, I forget its name. Anyway, I can order all sorts online.” She laughed as she stood. “I was quite shocked at what one can find on the interweb.”
I opened my eyes wide and joined in. She linked arms and we walked back to her apartment.
“I don’t think you should leave the doors open, Mother,” I chastised.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, the folks here are so old even I would catch up with them if they decide to smash and run.” She placed her racket on the kitchen table.
“Smash and run?”
“Isn’t that what it’s called? Anyway, tea?”
I allowed her to make tea, there was absolutely no way she would ever accept a cup of tea made by anyone else. She set out her china, silver strainers and spoons. She carefully measured tealeaves into a matching pot and waited for the water to boil.
“This seems a rather rapid change, Mother. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She smiled brightly. “Of course. As I said, I was sick of being sick, so I decided not to be anymore.”
As if it was ever that easy to shed layers of grief and misery, I thought. I let it go, though. The woman making the tea with the precise number of stirs in a certain direction was my mother of old, and I welcomed seeing her.
She brought the tray to the outside table and we sat. “Now, tell me what’s happening with you?” she asked.
I told her all about the job offer and about meeting up with Veronica. Of course, I omitted the part about the sex workers.
“How utterly delightful. I’m thrilled for the girl; please pass that on, will you? She was a wild card, that one. I remember many a time your father and uncle traipsing London to find her after a call from her school to say she had skipped out again. They used to find her in the most undesirable places. Strip clubs, Alex. She’d be front row pushing money down panties, so I was told. God knows how your father found out about those places.” She gave me a wink and I laughed.
Mother sat and reminisced on days of old and she did so with a smile. There was a part of me that wanted to check her medicine cupboard; I didn’t believe she could have changed so dramatically in three weeks. It was lovely to hear how fond of Von she still was, though. I remember as a child, Veronica being the daughter my mother never had. They were very close.
“I should have said, I’ll have to leave early in the morning. This isn’t me skipping out, before you say. I have a date at the opera in the evening,” I said.
“Oh, Darling, do tell?”
I gave a very brief description of Gabriella. My mother would have wanted her over for tea and inspection in the old days. Any possible girlfriend had to be assessed for worthiness, and to ensure she wasn’t likely toswan off with the family jewels,my father used to say, mocking my mother’s belief that all my friends were from the criminal fraternity. I made a promise to bring her for a visit when the time was right.
“Let me put my bag in my room, and then I need to take a shower. Where would you like to eat this evening?” I asked. It was a done deal that Mother wouldn’t cook. There was a restaurant within the house, but we usually dined out together. Mother always had a new place that she’d read about and wanted to check out.
“I’ve booked us a table in a lovely little Italian. I love Italy, your father and I had plans to retire there one day.” She sighed wistfully at the memory, one I wasn’t aware of but also highly doubted since my father hated anything foreign.
I left her to rinse the cups—again, something she would never allow anyone else to do should they chip the china—and I took my holdall along the corridor to one of the four bedrooms. I placed the bag on the bed and moved my toiletries to the en suite. Although the family’s ancestral home had been sold, Mother had been able to keep many of the furnishings, all of which seemed to clutter the bedrooms. She had often wanted me to take some, but my apartment wouldn’t suit a fourteenth century masterpiece. I had told her time and time again to sell it all.
We had a pleasant evening and the restaurant she had found was rather nice. So much so that I took a card and made promises to return.
“How did you find this one, Mother?” I asked, expecting her to tell me it had been advertised in a local magazine.
“Duncan brought me here last week. Rather annoying that he’d forgotten his wallet, though.”
I stopped walking and stared at her. “Didyoupay?”
“Of course, I’m hardly the type to offer to wash the dishes and I really didn’t want the annoyance of the police arriving.”
Red flags sprang up in my mind. “How often have you been out on dates with him?” We started to walk towards the car again.
“On dates? Only the once, although we’ve played tennis nearly every day. We’re going todateagain next week,” she replied.
“Let me know how that goes, will you?”
“Alexander, is there anything wrong? Do you dislike Duncan?”
“I dislike anyone foolish enough to leave a wallet at home when entertaining a woman, especially one as classy as you, Mother.” I gave her a wink.
