This Time Next Year(29)

Tara looked distressed all of a sudden. She felt behind her for the arm of the sofa, sinking down into it. Quinn sat down beside her and held one of her hands between the palms of his.

‘Don’t get upset, Mum,’ he said softly. ‘I did explain, but I thought you could tell her yourself.’

Quinn went to make a pot of Earl Grey tea and Minnie took a seat on the sofa next to Tara. She looked so frail and small against the giant white cushions, as though she might sink into the sofa’s folds and never be able to get out again. Minnie sat quietly, letting Tara talk.

The times Minnie had imagined meeting this woman, this villain from her childhood, the person who’d upset her own mother so much, she’d imagined all the things she would say. Now she was here, she didn’t want to say anything, she just wanted to listen.

Tara explained how much Connie’s help had meant to her, how alone she’d felt during labour, how close to breaking point she had been.

‘Connie told me the story of the name Quinn, and it was as if this light went on in the darkness. My body was being pulled in two and this name, Connie’s face – it was the only part of reality I could hold on to.’ Tara looked up at the ceiling, temporarily lost in thought. ‘When the baby was born, I couldn’t think of any other name that would do. I wanted to have a Quinn too – a tribute to your mother and the help she gave me. I didn’t even think about the stupid newspaper competition; it didn’t cross my mind she wouldn’t call you Quinn too.’

Now Tara was looking at her, waiting for some response.

‘You were all over the papers. Quinn’s not a common name. My dad thought they’d look silly if they chose the same name as the baby in the news.’

‘I tried to find Connie afterwards, I couldn’t remember her surname. I even looked at the birth announcements for another Quinn. The hospital wouldn’t give me her details. I thought maybe she’d get in touch with me.’

Quinn came back into the room and put a tray of tea things down on the large ottoman-style coffee table.

‘Don’t get too worked up,’ he said, pressing a hand gently onto his mother’s shoulder. She reached up to squeeze it and Minnie felt another pang for this closeness between them. She didn’t have that kind of relationship with her mother.

‘And now I hear all these years later that she despises me, that I’d stolen your name and you’ve been seething with resentment all these years. I can’t bear it,’ Tara let out a sniff and pressed the back of her hand to her nose, her eyes welling with tears.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say seething exactly.’ Minnie felt her cheeks go pink. She started biting the nail on her left thumb, then yanked it away from her mouth and sat on her hands.

‘I would love to see Connie again, to tell her how sorry I am. When I think what she must have thought of me.’

‘It’s only a name, I shouldn’t worry about it,’ Minnie said, reaching out to pat Tara’s hand.

Over Tara’s shoulder she saw Quinn mouthing ‘only a name?’ at her. Minnie narrowed her eyes at him; he was relishing this.

‘And then to be called Minnie Cooper instead,’ Tara shook her head, her lip puckering in distaste. ‘You poor thing.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ Minnie said, retracting her hand.

‘No, it could have been worse, Ford Fiesta or Vauxhall Corsa,’ said Quinn. Minnie felt a strong urge to throw the teapot at him.

She took Tara’s number and said she would get her mother to call her. She warned her that her mother could be a little prickly, but she was sure she would listen. Tara clutched her thin hands around Minnie’s and shook them gently. Then she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

‘Thank you,’ Quinn said quietly from across the room.

‘What for?’ Minnie asked.

‘For being kind to her.’

When Tara returned, she insisted Minnie stay for dinner. She said she never had visitors and wanted to hear all about Minnie’s life. Minnie felt as though she was having some kind of Sliding Doors moment. She was Gwyneth Paltrow with the short blonde hair, living in an alternate reality where her mother’s nemesis invited her to dinner at the blueberry ice-cream house. Perhaps another version of Minnie was currently finishing the deliveries with Alan in the van. Minnie made a mental note to suggest Sliding Doors for her next movie night with Leila.

As they moved through to the kitchen, Quinn told his mother all about No Hard Fillings, about the people he’d met that day and how great Minnie’s pies were.

‘You haven’t tried one yet,’ said Minnie.

It made her feel a little giddy hearing him talk about her business in such glowing terms.

‘Finally, I get to sample one,’ Quinn said, turning on the oven. ‘I only had to give up my day, chauffeur you around London, get mauled by a cat, fix a dodgy aerial and try to put right a decades-old wrong.’

Minnie smiled, wrinkling her nose at him. Quinn smiled back at her, their eyes connecting for a moment, and Minnie felt the room close in around her. Tara looked back and forth between them as though observing something for the first time. Minnie’s phone started to ring and it took her a moment to realise it was hers.

‘I, um, I’d better get this,’ she said, seeing from the screen it was Leila.

She stepped back into the living room, leaving Quinn and his mother talking in the kitchen.