Minding Frankie - Maeve Binchy [141]
She telephoned her mother immediately.
“Lunch? What’s the occasion?” her mother asked.
“There’s no law that says we can only meet on special occasions,” Lisa said. She could tell that her mother was confused.
“Let’s go to Ennio’s,” she suggested, and before her mother could find a reason not to go, it was all settled. “Ennio’s, tomorrow, one o’clock.”
Di Kelly looked well as she came into the restaurant. She wore a red belted coat with a white polo-necked collar underneath. She must be fifty-three but she didn’t look forty. Her hair showed that all that brushing had not been in vain, and all that walking had ensured that she was trim and fit.
She did not, however, look at ease.
“This is nice,” Lisa said brightly. “How have you been keeping?”
“Oh, fine. And you?”
“Fine also.”
“And have you any news for me?” her mother asked with an interested expression on her face.
“What kind of news, exactly?”
“Well, I wondered if you were going to tell me that you and this Anton were getting married or anything. You’ve had him out on approval for long enough.” She gave a tinkling laugh, showing she was nervous.
“Married? To Anton? Lord, no! I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Oh, sorry, I thought that that was what this was about. You were going to ask me to the wedding but not your father.”
“No, nothing as dramatic as that,” Lisa said.
“So why did you invite me, then?”
“Does there have to be a reason? You’re my mother and I’m your daughter. That’s reason enough for most people.”
“But we aren’t like most people,” her mother said simply.
“Why did you stay with him?” Lisa had not intended to ask this as baldly as it came out.
“We all have choices to make.…” Her mother was vague.
“But you couldn’t choose to live with him, not after you knew what he was doing.” Lisa was full of disgust.
“Life’s a compromise, Lisa. Sooner or later you’ll understand that. I had options: leave him and be by myself in a flat or stay and live in a house I liked.”
“But you can have no respect for him.”
“I was never very interested in sex. He was. That’s all. I didn’t enjoy it. You saw we had two separate beds …”
“I also saw him bringing that woman into what was your bedroom,” Lisa said.
“It was only a couple of times. He was very ashamed that you saw. Did you tell Katie?”
“Why does that matter?” Lisa asked.
“I just wondered. She hardly ever calls. He thinks it’s because you told her. I said she had stopped calling a long time ago.”
“And did it not upset you that both your daughters feel a million miles from you?”
“You are always very courteous—you’ve invited me to lunch to keep up the relationship.”
“What relationship? Do you think my asking you did the clematis grow over the garage and you asking me whether Anton’s is doing well is a relationship?”
Di shrugged. “It’s as good as most.”
“No, it’s not. It’s totally unnatural. I live with a little baby girl. She’s not yet one and she is loved by so many people you wouldn’t believe it. She will never be left alone, bewildered, like Katie and I were. It’s natural for people to love children. You were both so cold.… I just hoped you’d tell me why.”
Di was quite calm. “I didn’t like your father very much, even before we were married, but I hated my job more and I had no money to spend on clothes, on going to the cinema, on anything. So I have a part-time job which I like and I thought it was a fair exchange for marrying him. I didn’t realize the sex thing was going to be so important, but, well, if I didn’t want it, then it was only fair to let him go out and get it.”
“Or stay in and have it,” Lisa interrupted.
“I told you that was only two or three times.”
“How could you put up with it?”
“It was that or start out on my own again and, unlike you, I had no qualifications. I have a badly paid job in a dress shop. As it is, I have a nice house and food on the table.”
“So you’d prefer to share a man that you admit you don’t like very much with prostitutes?”
“I don’t think of it that way. I think of it as cooking and cleaning a fine