Sweet Sorrow(19)

‘Dad says you’ve left home.’

‘Shall we go through here?’ She had taken me by the elbow and was marching me across the lobby – ‘Is it true?’

– like a security guard, as if I’d been caught shoplifting, and now opening doors to conference rooms and offices, looking for somewhere to hide me – ‘I left you a letter, Charlie. Did you read the letter, Charlie?’

‘No, I came straight here.’

‘Well, I did ask him to give it to you.’

– and finding each room occupied, she smiled her professional smile and crisply closed each door.

‘Mum, is it true?’ I wrenched my elbow from her grip. ‘Tell me!’

Her smile faltered. She took my hand and, holding it tightly, touched her forehead against mine for a moment, then looked sharply to left and right then to a door behind us, barging at it with her shoulder and spinning me into a hot muffled cage of a storage cupboard, sound-proofed with toilet rolls and hand towels. We stood amidst the mops and buckets.

‘Charlie, you can’t come here—’

‘Is it true, though, are you moving out?’

‘For the moment, yes.’

‘Where to? I don’t understand.’

‘It was all in the letter.’ She tutted. ‘I told him to give it to—’

‘Just tell me! Please!’

She sighed and, as if deflating, allowed herself to slide down the door, folding her legs beneath her.

‘Your dad’s not been easy to live with these last years—’

‘Really? ’Cause I’d not noticed that—’

‘—not easy for any of us. I’ve done my best, I think, to hold things together, and I do still love him, I love all of you. But …’ She paused, frowned, licked her lips and then selected the words one by one. ‘I’ve made another friend. Here. At work.’

‘Who?’

‘I put this in the letter, I don’t know why he didn’t give you the letter—’

‘Fine. I’ll go and get this famous letter …’ and I began to clamber over her, kicking at buckets, knocking mops to the ground.

‘Don’t do that, Charlie. Sit down. Sit down! I’ll tell you! Here!’ She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the floor so that our legs were tangled, jammed up against the bales of toilet roll. ‘His name is Jonathan.’

‘He works here?’

‘Yes, he runs corporate events.’

‘Have I met him?’

‘No. Billie has, when she’s come into work with me. And no, he’s not here today, so don’t get any ideas.’

‘And how long—?’

‘Couple of months.’

‘You’ve only been here since January!’

‘Yes, and since then we’ve become really good friends.’

I gave my best bitter laugh.

‘You’re not being very mature about this, Charlie.’

‘Really good friends. You sound like you’re nine—’

‘Okay, lovers then. Is that better?’

‘For Christ’s sake, Mum—’

‘Because I can treat you like a child if you want, if you’d prefer that?’

‘No, I just want—’

‘—me to explain what’s been going on, and that’s what I’m trying to do. I don’t mind you being angry, I expect you to be angry but I also expect you to be respectful and listen. Okay?’ She kicked out at a bucket with her toe. ‘Christ, I wish I had a cigarette!’

I patted at my pockets.

‘And that’s not funny either. Do you smoke?’

‘No!’

‘Because if you smoke, I will kill you—’

‘I don’t. Just tell me.’

‘I met Jonathan here. He’s a widower, two girls, twins. He’s a nice man, very nice and we used to talk a bit. I’d tell him about Dad and he was very understanding, because he’d been a bit down himself, so he knew what that was like, and we were friends and then we were … more than friends. Don’t look like that. These things happen, Charlie, you’ll know one day. Being married – it’s not as simple as loving one person all your life—’

‘But that’s exactly what it is! That’s what marriage is meant to be. Look –’ I grabbed at her hand, peeling her finger back to show the ring was still there, and she grabbed my hands and squeezed them tight.

‘Yes, yes, meant to be, yes, but it’s fuzzy, Charlie, it’s messy and painful and you can have strong feelings for different people, absolutely sincere and strong. You’ll understand when you’re older—’

Even as the phrase left her mouth I could see her try to suck it back, but too late. It enraged me even more than ‘best behaviour’ and I kicked out at the door, and she pressed her hand on my knee, placating. ‘Stop that! Stop! Charlie? Listen, I have no doubt that your dad’s the love of my life and you shouldn’t doubt that either. But I’m his nurse now, not his wife or partner, his nurse, and sometimes – sometimes you can really get to hate the people that you’re meant to care for, hate them because you’re meant to care for them—’