Читать книгу Being Lily - Qarnita Loxton - Страница 13

By Sunday afternoon, I’d fled to my mother – that’s how bad it was. After the punch-up, Courtney left for training at the restaurant, a double-edged sword that killed the paternity talk but spared me her company. Owen spent the day on the couch, hiding his smashed eye from the world and using the good one to watch Netflix with Chiara. When Buff Jeff arrived at nine this morning to make another apology, bringing steak and salad for lunch, I hatched an emergency afternoon escape. It was saying a lot that I needed my mother as an excuse. I’d see Dad after. That would be my light at the end of the tunnel of the weekend. He would have advice on what to say when we talked to Courtney tonight. But first, there was Mum.

“Lilian Rose. You look perfect, exactly like the daughter of Camilla,” my mother announced as I stepped out of the lift into her V&A Marina apartment. (She says the Camps Bay village got too small for her, but what she means is that it was too close to Dad and Violet in Clifton.) A little hug so as not to crush her peachy silk shirt; air kisses next to my cheek so as not to disturb either of our faces. “How lovely you look, my darling, Lucio truly is a magician. I’m going tomorrow morning.” I couldn’t see why she would need to – all the blonde hair piled artfully Zsa Zsa-style on her head was perfect. I regretted the news I’d passed on to Lucio; she would get it out of him without any struggle. “I love that nail colour on you! What’s it called, might get the girl to do mine too.” She peered at my hands as she handed over her welcome drink, always the perfect hostess, then jumped right in. “But it makes your engagement ring look a bit small. Should try softer colours so that you can see the diamond.”

“Don’t be such a cow, Mum, I can’t stay long and my ring is perfect. And it’s nice to see you too.” I felt the anxiety drain from my body. She couldn’t usually tell if something was up but sometimes, if it was very bad, like when I was depressed, she could tell from a hundred metres. Not that she would sympathise – she would pounce, rattle my cage until all the uglies came out. I was safe as long as she couldn’t tell.

“Sorry, darling, you know I’m only teasing.” She shifted her attention to my feet instead. “Are those sandals from that place in the Watershed where you can have them make what you want?” she asked. I nodded at her, settling into her couch, readying myself. I’d never been so happy for a Camilla de Angelo special G&T. Since Courtney and Chiara’s arrival less than forty-eight hours ago, I would no longer judge a G&T for breakfast; I don’t even know how I made it to three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon without one.

It came at a price. Mum might as well have pointed her beautiful new floor lamp straight into my eyes, so intense was the side of rapid-fire Q&A that she served with the G&T.

“How’s Dad? Have you heard anything about Violet? How are the twins doing?” Mum asked straight after I sat down, something about Dad always part of the interrogation. First time she was so direct about it, though.

“I’m going to see them for a coffee when I leave here. Why do you always ask about him – what about saying something about Camilla herself for a change? I think she is hiding a boyfriend,” I teased her. Daddy and Lucio were both right – it worked when I showed no fear. Did Mum look a bit nervous? I had some of Camilla de Angelo’s skills after all.

“Nonsense! I’m just being polite about your other parent,” she said, twisting the five-carat engagement ring from Dad that dominated her right-hand ring finger, “and I was going to ask how Owen is – can his feet reach the pedals on the Porsche yet? Or still a midget?”

I laughed at her. She can be a cow, but she’s a funny cow. And getting angry had never stopped her before.

“You know he is only two centimetres shorter than me. Is your boyfriend taller than me? Or younger than me?” I asked innocently, killing her next barb that would surely be about Owen being two years younger than me. “And does he have an Italian passport?” I didn’t want to talk to her about Owen or what was waiting for me at home. I had a few more hours free until Lucio filled her in.

“Nice trickery, Lilian Rose. Those are all important things to consider when you are going to have children with someone, you’ll see,” she huffed. “And there’s no one, thank you very much,” she added, straightening her back, puffing out her chest, smoothing her hands over the generous hips that I’d inherited. The top smaller and the bottom wider than we both liked. “I’m still on Tinder, if you must know, but just to see how ridiculous it is. Frankly, there is nothing for a woman of my age to swipe home about. Me, a cougar, imagine!” She was outraged. A bit too outraged. There was a boyfriend hiding somewhere, I was sure. I would find out next time when I could stay for more than one G&T. She needed at least two before she spilled anything.

“But your dad and Violet are fine?” She couldn’t help herself. Might as well have hashtagged “justchecking”. For his fiftieth birthday thirteen years ago, Dad got himself a midlife crisis, divorced Mum, and moved in with Violet, his Pilates instructor. Never mind heartbreak, Mum still loved Dad with an Olympic-sized torch in her hand. I would never let that happen to me.

I rolled my eyes. “They are the same, Mum. The twins are the same too – six, spoilt, and stupid naughty. All still carrying on in Camps Bay.”

“Okay, fine. Tell me, how is your practice going? Any new clients? When are you coming to do me? I was thinking it must be time for my next Botox?” I saw her frown; it clearly was time. “How is the wedding going? And Owen? Have you met any more of his family? Any of the men taller than him? Is he the shortest in his family? I mean, I can hope, can’t I?” I hadn’t told her much about Riccardo. Just that he was very charming and looked like a more tanned version of Owen. Nothing about him being an asshole.

We lobbed answers and questions at each other and made my drink last another forty-five minutes before I left, promising to do her Botox the next time I saw her.

Dad next – he would help me fix everything.