‘Thank you.’
‘And did you make the cushions with the leaves on them?’
‘I did.’
‘I thought that was your handiwork!’ Oh my goodness, I’d forgotten how excruciating it was to keep up a fake cheerful conversation when Mum was in victim mode. ‘Aunty Linda is a professional, but she can’t bring embroidery to life like you.’
‘Well.’ Mum sniffed again. ‘I have always considered myself to be the more talented sister when it comes to a needle and thread.’
‘Absolutely. Don’t tell Aunty Linda I said that, though,’ I added, knowing full well that she’d have heard before the end of the day, but also knowing that she’d understand the reason I’d said it.
‘Anyway, I mentioned the cushions because I was wondering if you’d have time to make some for me.’ I paused and tried to ignore the voice in my head telling me that this was the stupidest thing I’d ever say. ‘I’d be happy to pay you. Or… I was wondering if you’d like to give them to me as a birthday present?’
‘Oh, now I see!’ Mum cackled. ‘It’s your big special birthday, and you’ve realised that cutting me off means you won’t get a present. What, is Steph busy with her real family? Worried you’ll end up sitting home alone and thought you’d better wheel out Mother?’
‘No, Mum. Please listen to me.’ For the first time ever. ‘I’m having a birthday party, and if you wanted to come along you’d be very welcome. If you don’t want to make the cushions, I’d still like you to come.’
I counted about a thousand thundering heartbeats before she replied.
‘You’re having a party?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you want me to come?’
‘If you’d like to. Please don’t feel obliged.’ I dropped my head onto the closed laptop, resisting the urge to smack it against the cover a few times.
‘Why?’
‘Why do I want you to come?’
‘Yes.’
I straightened up. Mum’s tone had completely flipped again. I’d never heard her like this before. She sounded meek. Contrite. Almost grateful.
‘Because I don’t want to pass a major milestone like turning thirty without my mum being a part of it. I needed some space – I still need space – and I know you don’t understand why, and it hurts you, and I’m genuinely sorry about that. But I’ve missed you, Mum. I’ve never had a birthday without you; it would feel wrong if you weren’t there.’
Another silence.
‘Is it at the place you live now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to block me again once this call is over?’
I blew out as quiet a sigh as I could manage. ‘No. Not unless you start bombarding me with messages.’
‘When is the party?’
‘On my birthday.’
‘Remind me of the date again?’
Keep breathing, Ollie.
‘It’s Saturday nineteenth September. A month away. If you want to come then I’ll send you the details once I’ve sorted them. You’re the first person I’ve invited.’
‘Oh? You’ve not invited Steph?’
‘Not yet.’ Technically true.
‘I’ll check my diary. I’m very busy these days.’
And she was gone. It took longer to dispel the grey cloud now loitering over my head. I was already regretting inviting her. The problem was, I thought that in time I would regret not inviting her even more.
28
I decided to speak to Steph about Mum during our next Saturday breakfast, which meant I could put it to one side for now. Except that was easier said than done, mooching about the house by myself. I really needed some company to help distract me. I was far too nervous to message Sam – it was a Friday night; he surely had plans that didn’t include sitting about wanting to talk to me. Instead, I knocked on Ebenezer’s door.
This evening I was met with a pair of raised eyebrows in lieu of a greeting.
‘Joan’s out and I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go.’ This was true; I’d changed into my jumpsuit, hoping it might help persuade him to accept my offer, and had even put on some make-up and styled my hair into glossy curls. ‘I was wondering if you’d do me the honour of joining me for dinner?’
‘Again?’ He narrowed one eye. ‘Tongues’ll start wagging.’
I threw him a coy look. ‘And why would I care about that?’