“It’s time you paid more care to your family than the other problems that the world is facing. They can wait. Olivia can’t.” He leaves me, shaking his head as he goes.
I return inside, feeling the weight of responsibility that I’ve never experienced before, and pick up my tea to take a gulp.
“Still here then?” She shifts in her chair, but her eyes are still closed.
“Yes. I wouldn’t leave without telling you. Besides, we’ve not really talked. You said you were ill.”
“Straight to it as always.”
“Well?” I won’t let her sharp tongue derail this.
“Cancer. It’s been a few years now. Not much left to be done.”
Anger and shock rush at me as her words sink in. I stand and pace the room, thinking of what I’m supposed to say to that news.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I force the words out through gritted teeth, but I don’t need to hear her answer. We’ve been over it on the call already, but some part of me hoped she was saying that out of spite.
“You wouldn’t have done anything. Ever since Amanda—”
“Don’t!” I turn back and stare her down. “Don’t bring her into it. You’re angry I left. You’re angry I put my career first. I know this.” My voice rises with my own anger and frustration. This isn’t a conversation I want.
“There’s too much time between us, Blake. Too much history.” Her voice is sorrowful, and I hate that I’m a big part of causing that.
I take a deep breath. This isn’t why I came here. “I’m sorry, Mum. Why don’t you start at the beginning?” I sit back down. “I’m back now. And I have no firm plans.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “Well, we’ll see how long that lasts.” She takes a sip of her tea that must be stone cold by now.
“Come on, Mum. I don’t want to spend all of today arguing. Let me fix you another cuppa, and we can try and have a civil conversation. And let me order you in some groceries.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“I disagree. But one step at a time. Tea.”
~
The journey back to London is busy. Despite what Mum said, I order her some groceries and set it on repeat order. Just the basics, but at least she won’t have to worry. Guilt claws at me for allowing this to happen, but I shut it away. There’s a lot to feel guilty for, but I can’t change the past.
I grab a coffee on the way back from the tube, and the thought of calling Ivy returns to mind. By the time I open up the studio apartment, I’ve weighed the decision and realise I don’t want any regrets when it comes to her. A thought that’s unsettling in itself, but I can deal with that later.
I hit the green button on the screen and wait for the call to go through.
“Hey, Saviour.”
Her greeting puts an instant smile on my face. “Hey, yourself.”
“I’ve got to say, I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”
“Well, honestly, I thought you could do with some help. Getting into trouble again, I see. At least according to the papers I’ve read.”
“Ah, you saw that. Although that particular mess isn’t my doing.”
“I thought you worked for Broderick Media?” I question.
“I choose who I work for. Mostly I’m freelance, although I am in the middle of a story for them. And let’s just say we’re looking into what’s been printed.” Her voice holds an edge, and I can tell she’s pissed off. I can’t blame her. “I’m surprised you get the broadsheets over in Afghanistan.” And that’s a leading question.
“I’m not in Afghanistan. I’m in London.”
“Really. What caused the change in plans?”
