Lying in Wait(62)

Malcolm came to Avalon the next day to apologize. I didn’t let him past the hall, but I allowed him to think he might some day be forgiven, and fortunately Laurence came home and interrupted us. Malcolm made small talk and then left. Laurence’s mission had been successful. The letter had been safely posted.

In the evening, Laurence received a phone call and then reported that he had just broken off his relationship with Bridget. I knew it would never last. I was surprised it had gone on so long, but I assumed that seeing the drab little lives of others had opened his eyes. He must have realized that he could never be with someone like Bridget. Things would settle down now.

My mother-in-law, Eleanor, came for dinner. She was irritatingly punctual. If she was invited for seven, she would arrive early and hover on the porch outside until the grandfather clock in the hall chimed before she rang the doorbell. After Andrew died, she had insisted on coming once a month whether I invited her or not, so in the end I was forced to make the last Sunday of the month a regular fixture. I always made sure Laurence was there. After all, she hadn’t come to see me.

She was very pleased that Laurence had been able to keep weight off for over a year, as if he had achieved it on his own. I could see that she was fond of him, but he was still quite wary of her. He told me how she had treated him when I was in the clinic. He certainly did not love her as much as he loved me. I wasn’t going to tell her about Malcolm, obviously. Each time she visited, she stopped and looked at every single photograph of Andrew on the mantelpiece. After Laurence had ‘found out’ about Annie, he had wanted to put away all those photos, but I insisted they stay. Eleanor often made comments about the big old draughty house we lived in, implying that it was way too big for the two of us. She often talked about how lonely I must be and how boring it must be to spend days by myself. It was perfectly clear she wanted to move in. She had been increasingly frail recently, and I think she felt the cottage in Killiney was a little too remote.

‘And Laurence will be moving out sometime. Won’t you, dear?’

‘I hope so,’ said Laurence.

‘Maybe you will be planning a family of your own. When am I going to meet this Bridget girl?’

I could see Laurence squirming with embarrassment.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you like her, Lydia? Is she good enough for our handsome Laurence?’

‘Nobody’s good enough for our Laurence,’ I said, and changed the subject to spare his blushes.

I thought that the letter would be enough, that it would put a stop to things. It infuriated me that her family could not just leave things be. Laurence had done an excellent job of throwing the Doyle family off course. He pretended to help Annie’s sister, and took over the really crucial parts of her search. He told her that there was no record of Andrew’s car, that it must be a red herring. I told him that he should find photographs of people of note who wore trilby hats, but Laurence would not countenance putting anybody else in the frame of suspicion. The letter was supposed to put an end to all the subterfuge. But now, Annie Doyle’s sister was furious with her and wanted to track her down to confront her. How ridiculous.

And then Laurence announced out of the blue that he was going to Rome for a holiday in three days’ time. He had once been on a school rugby trip to Marseilles when he was in Carmichael Abbey but had never expressed a desire to leave the country before. I told him that it was a ridiculous idea and that we couldn’t afford it, but he sharply reminded me that he was earning our income. Laurence was by then in management in the dole office. The cream rises to the top. Still, his salary wasn’t even a third of what Andrew’s had been. I could not understand why he had made this sudden decision, and why Rome?

‘I just need a break.’

‘Are you going alone?’

A slight pause. ‘Yes.’

‘But why, and for how long?’

‘A week.’

‘A whole week.’ I was feeling quite hysterical now. I had never been on my own for a week before.

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘Mum, no, you hate travelling, you hate leaving the house. Why would you want to come to Rome?’

‘What will I do here on my own?’

‘What you always do.’

‘On my own?’ I couldn’t believe he was being so selfish.

‘Mum,’ he tried to use a soothing voice with me, ‘Mum … I think sometimes … that you have always lived a very sheltered life. You have always had someone to take care of you, but the world has moved on. Most women are out in the world now, holding down jobs and fighting for their rights, but it seems as if you don’t want any independence. You are not bad … or wrong at all, you’re just … unusual.’

‘Old-fashioned?’

‘A little. You don’t have to change if you don’t want to, but I live in the new reality and I like it.’ He paused. ‘You could ring your friend Malcolm. I’m sure he’d like to keep you company.’

I turned my face away.

‘It’s OK, Mum, for you to have a … friend. He seems like a very nice man.’

‘We … it’s not like that.’

‘Well, why don’t you ask Granny to come and stay for a few days? I’m sure she’d love to be invited. She’s always hinting at it.’