The Mother-in-Law(23)

“It’s a two-bedroom worker’s cottage in South Melbourne,” Ollie continues. “It’s pretty run-down, but we could renovate it. We’ve got a good deposit, just short of twenty percent.” He hesitates here, steals a quick glance at his mother. “Problem is, without a twenty-percent deposit we’d need to pay mortgage insurance, which is just throwing money down the drain. We hate to ask but—”

“South Melbourne, eh?” Tom says. “A good spot. Close to the city. Near the market, near Albert Park Lake. It’s not easy for you young folk, is it? Everything is so expensive. I read the other day that kids are not buying their first home until they are in their forties these days, can you believe that? What do you think, Di?”

Tom is the only one I’ve ever heard call Diana “Di.” Once, I heard him call her Lady Di. The strangest part was, Diana had actually smiled. Tom brought out an entirely different side to her. A softer side. Unfortunately, now, Diana doesn’t look soft. Her lips are pressed tightly together as though she’s trying to break something with her teeth.

“Life has never been easy,” she says finally, folding her hands primly in her lap. “Every generation has their challenges and I dare say, most have had to suffer through worse than unaffordable housing. You and Lucy both have good heads on your shoulders. If you want this house badly enough, I don’t doubt you’ll make it work. Otherwise you’ll find something else . . . something you can afford.”

Silence follows. Deafening silence. I stare at the swirls of the rug on the floor, unable to meet her gaze. After a moment or two, I steal a look at Ollie and Tom, who both look disappointed, though not surprised.

“Diana,” Tom starts, but Diana is already holding up a hand.

“You asked what I thought, that’s what I think. Now that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.” Diana uproots herself from the overstuffed couch. “Will you kids be staying for dinner?”

Ollie and I stare at her, blinking.

“I’ll take that as no,” she says, and disappears out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out,” Tom says.

“No, no,” I say hurriedly. “Don’t get up, please. We can see ourselves out.”

I expect Tom to insist but he just nods. “Rightio then. You kids take care.”

I am sick with mortification. What were we thinking asking Diana for money? Suddenly it seems so obvious. With what Ollie has told me about his upbringing—how Diana insisted he and Nettie be raised with part-time jobs and secondhand cars and an understanding that not everyone is as privileged as them—of course Diana wasn’t going to be in favor of giving them a handout. Sure, they’d gone to private schools and had some pretty amazing holidays (at Tom’s insistence), but they’d also spent weekends picking up donations for her charity, and serving at the local soup kitchen. The worst part is, as humiliated as I am, Diana had made some very good points when she’d turned us down. Other generations had had it harder. Ollie and I did have the ability to get a house within our means. Which means I can’t even hate her for what she’d said.

As we reach the foyer, Nettie and Patrick materialize, as if from nowhere.

“How’d it go?” Nettie whispers. Her face is apologetic, as if she already knows exactly how we went. “Did she give you the spiel about how every generation has its challenges?”

Ollie nods. “But if we want it badly enough—”

“—you’ll make it work?”

Nettie and Ollie all chuckle quietly.

“Commiserations,” Patrick says. He’s obviously been sampling some of Tom’s top-shelf drinks while we were being given the lay of the land because he smells of whisky.

“Thank goodness for Dad, eh?” Nettie says. “If it wasn’t for him, we’d all be left penniless on the street.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Oh, don’t look so worried, Lucy!” Nettie says, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Dad’s not going to let you miss on your house. He’s probably already written Ollie a check, am I right, Ol?”

Ollie pats his jeans pocket and grins.

“What?” I say.

“We all knew Mum wouldn’t go for it. She never does.” He glances at Nettie who nods, drugs. “We also knew Dad would.”

“So that,” I point toward the good room, “was . . . what exactly? A performance you put on for your mother’s benefit?”

Ollie, Nettie and Patrick all look mildly perplexed. It is like everyone is in on a joke I don’t understand.

Ollie gives a small, hapless grin. “I mean, I guess so. It’s no big deal, Luce. It’s just . . . the way the Goodwins do things.”

Now it’s my turn to look perplexed. I shake my head, sincerely stunned. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you that the Goodwins are going to do things differently from now on.”

“Can you pull over, please?” I ask as soon as we are out of Tom and Diana’s driveway.

Ollie glances at me then sighs and the car rolls to a stop.

“Please don’t ever involve me in these games with your parents again.”

Ollie pulls up the hand brake and shifts in his seat so his knees are angled toward me. He is attempting, I know, to be conciliatory. “I told you, Luce. This is just how it works in our family. You heard Nettie. It’s just the process.”