One Day in May - Catherine Alliott [13]
‘Has he improved? Luca?’ I asked tentatively. ‘Hugh says he comes to shoot. Has he gentrified miraculously? Head to toe in tweeds?’
‘Of course not. He shoots in an old airman’s jacket and ripped jeans, while Hugh looks pained and embarrassed but doesn’t dare say anything. He’s coming in a couple of weeks’ time. I might rope you in for moral support.’
I smiled. ‘Thanks.’
She sat hugging her pillow. Lay her face sideways on it. A beautiful, sculpted, sorrowful face. We were silent a moment.
She raised her head and went on in a low voice, ‘You might not believe me, Hatts, but I’m honestly not upset for me. I’m upset for the children. To move them in here, then suddenly move them out when Luca marries—’
‘Is that when it changes hands?’
‘Not necessarily. It’s at Hugh’s discretion. But that’s what he said the other day, apropos of nothing. “When Luca marries I’ll hand it over, won’t let him wait like I did.” Well, he’s twenty-two, Hattie. It could be a couple of years!’
‘Unlikely. Most people don’t get married till later, these days,’ I mumbled. Luca wasn’t most people.
‘OK, but still, say five years. It’s not so bad for the girls. They’re teenagers, they’ll be off in flats in London after university; home won’t be so important. But for Charlie, who’s only eight, to move out…’
‘Children move house all the time! He’ll understand. Look at us – sixteen houses in twenty years!’
‘Which is precisely what I didn’t want!’ She turned fierce eyes on me.
I sighed. I’d never thought it was so bad, our slightly nomadic lifestyle as Dad’s job took us from place to place, country to country sometimes. But siblings raised identically often have totally different takes on their childhood. What Kit and I had thought exciting, Laura had thought muddled, unsettling.
‘And the thing is, Hatts, years ago, we could have bought a perfectly nice house with Hugh’s salary, made it a home. A lovely country house with paddocks, pool, a court, but manageable – oh, listen to me! Paddocks, pools, a court, as if they were staples!’
‘It’s only natural. It’s what your friends have all got, so it becomes the norm.’
‘Yes, but you do… slightly lose touch with reality. Lose perspective. Money does that. And you also become… a bit isolated.’
Ah. I’d wondered. I’d never envied Laura’s life because I liked living in a road with lots of people. Loved London, loved waking up to its buzz, walking to my shop every morning, grabbing a cappuccino from Paulo’s, exchanging a cheery word with my neighbours, couldn’t imagine driving half an hour to see a friend, as Laura did. I knew Maggie was up the road, Sally round the corner, Ben and Steve in their art gallery, Mum and Dad a tube ride away. Dad.
‘What would Dad say?’ she said in a small voice, reading my mind.
‘He’d be hugely sympathetic.’
‘That I was upset, yes, but secretly appalled too. Troubled by a daughter who was seemingly so obsessed by wealth and status. He’d draw parallels with the American Dream, ask me gently if I’d ever read Gatsby. Quietly disapprove. Like he does with Mum. I am Mum,’ she said sadly. ‘I’ve turned into her.’
‘You are not Mum.’
She blinked rapidly down at the bedcover.
‘You’re panicking,’ I said firmly. ‘And that’s only natural. It’s a huge undertaking, this place, and I can quite see you’re nervous about pouring everything into it, only to have it taken from you—’
‘Exactly!’ She looked up quickly. ‘Like – like bringing up a child, knowing you’d got to give it back. Imagine if Seffy’s real parents hadn’t died, and they’d shown up one day saying, we want him back!’
‘Well, no, that would break my heart, Laura,’ I said slowly. ‘We’re talking about a house, here. A pile of bricks.’
‘Yes,’ she said quickly, breathily. She looked appalled. ‘You see?’ she whispered. ‘See what sort of a person I’ve become? How I’ve lost touch with reality? See?’
We were silent a moment. Both preoccupied with our thoughts. After a bit, Laura shifted on the bed. She brought her knees up to her chest and clasped