Sympathy for the Devil (23 page)

       My mother met me at the airport, shocking the hell out of me by jumping into my arms. “You look wonderful!” She sounded tearful. “How’ve you been?”

       “Good,” I replied, leaning back to see tears in her eyes. Oh, hell. I’d come to see her to set a few things straight, not for tears. The whole idea of Milan had emerged from the brain and unremitting reasoning of Carina Collins. She hadn’t mentioned tears. We did not account for tears. Christ. I couldn’t deal with tears.

       My mother cupped my face with both hands and gazed at me. “What’s happened? You look so different.”

      
Happy?
“Come on, let’s go. Standing here all day, talking about me after ten hours’ sleep.”

       She chatted all the way to her home in the centre of the city. About what, I lost the thread completely. Mainly because I focused on my phone, waiting for it to start sodding working, so I could hear from Cari. I’d wanted her to come with me to Italy, but it clashed with her nan’s birthday. That or she didn’t want to get in the middle of what was supposed to be my “special alone time” with my mother. My girlfriend knew how to lie...

       My phone bleeped and my mother stopped talking.
Whore-baby! Let me know when you get there. Don’t tell your mother I call you whore-baby. xxxxx

       I laughed and tapped out a reply as my mother enquired, “Who’s bringing that smile to your face? A girl?”

       “Yes, a girl,” I acknowledged, distracted in carefully constructing a reply that wouldn’t start an argument. For two intelligent people, we rubbed each other the wrong way far too often with a wrong word.
I’m here, Mother Superior. Bargaining material in the back pocket. Now who’s going to be quiet about “nuns”? Come with me next time. It’s weird being this far away from you. Not sure I like it. Xxx

       “A girlfriend? As in exclusive and serious and monogamous?”

       I blinked, looking up from the screen. “Yes. A girlfriend. That I do not share with anyone else. And I do not share my penis with anyone else.”

       My mother made a face of disgust. “Don’t talk about your penis.”

       “Bit late for that now,” I said with a simultaneous shrug, looking back down at my phone.

      
You’re not supposed to like it!
Cari’s text read.
Welcome to monogamy! How do you feel? Does it hurt? Are you crying because you miss me so much? Tell me. I want to taste your tears. Xxxxxx

Chuckling I added, “She’s hilarious. And beautiful. And incomparable. We’re here.”

My mother got out of the car and I sent another quick text message.
Tell me what you’re wearing. It’ll inspire tears of regret.

      
My mother’s home in the centre of Milan rose imposingly in the midst of a gated community. The driver carried my bag inside, even though I offered to carry it myself. My mother sat me down in the terrazzo in the rear of the house and had drinks brought for me.

       “This girlfriend, what’s her name?”

       “Carina.”

       “Italian name. I like. And how long have you known her?”

       “Not long. Met her in March. Serious since... March.” I had to be honest. I hadn’t waggled the Trojan at anyone since I’d met her. My body knew before I did.

       “Are you in love?”

       “Very much so. How are you, Mum?”

       She bent her head, blonde waves curling over one shoulder. “You haven’t called me Mum since you were eight. It was always Mother. Or Paula.”

       “I grew up fast,” I reminded her, taking a sip of lemonade as sharp as acid. “God, what the devil is this? Could cut glass with it.”

       “I keep forgetting how old you are now. Shall we open a bottle of wine?” She got to her feet and without waiting for a reply, she disappeared into the cellar. My phone bleeped and I quickly looked at the message my rather evil girlfriend had sent me.
Tears, Callun Xxxxx
. She captioned it. I wondered how rude it would be to get on the next flight back to London...

       “Here we are. Older than you. Just.” My mother handed me the glass and gasped. I followed her gaze and winced. Ah. Hadn’t quite closed the photograph quickly enough.

       “Oh, my. That stage already?”

       “You can’t even see nipple,” I protested. “Thank you.”

       She made a strange sound in the back of her throat and sighed. “I spoke to your father a few months ago.”

       “Why?”

       “When you went to Edinburgh to see him,” she revealed, biting on her bottom lip. “I mean, you’re happy now, but what went wrong?”

       I scratched my eyebrow distractedly. “I nearly fucked things up with Cari. Really badly. But she’s more understanding than me.”

       “That’s not true,” my mother defended me. “I know your father and I haven’t done our best by you. But you feel things so deeply. Not for yourself, for other people.”

       Oh, no. “I’m not talking about Sìle.”

       “I’m not saying you should. I just want to talk about your sister.”

       Hold on. She’d never referred to Rhona as my sister before. “What’s going on?”

       “When I spoke to your father, he said she mentioned coming to London to see you.”

       “Yeah, and Sìle put a stop to that. It wasn’t my idea, it was Rhona’s.”

       “And I think Rhona should.”

       I nearly dropped my wine. “What?”

       “I’ve met someone,” my mother began slowly. “And he has children. Who are all very nice to me. And it makes me realise what I’ve deprived you of. I want you to have a good relationship with your brothers and your sister. It’s only fair.”

       “You’ve... What?”

       “I’m very young and still very beautiful, Pierce. Did you think I’d stay on my own forever?” Vanity clearly runs in the family.

       “Look, Mum, as nice is the sentiment is, I didn’t say no to Rhona. Her mum did.”

       “We’ll get that sorted. I’m just going to call your father, and we’ll set up a call with Sìle. Make things clear for everyone. She shouldn’t be interfering with Rhona. We barely brought you up and you’ve turned out fine. Sìle couldn’t hope for a better influence on her child.”

       My mother’s naïveté knew no bounds... “It’s a waste of time, but thank you for trying.”

       She looked up from her mobile. “I’m not trying. It’s going to happen. Watch.”

       Within a few minutes she was connected to my dad. “Pierce?” he bellowed as if we were on the other side of the planet. “Can you hear me?”

       “Lower the tone,” my mother insisted. “Where’s substitute wife?”

       “Paula,” my father started, warningly. “None of that. We’re having a decent conversation.”

       “Bring her in then.”

       A moment later, I heard Sìle muster a broad, “Hello?”

       “Good evening, Sìle,” my mother introduced herself. “I think we need to have a little talk.”

       “If this is about my child, then I have nothing to talk to any of you about.”

       I shrugged, as if to say
told you so.
My mother waved me away. “This is where we differ. Our children share a father. They share blood. One day when you are gone, when their father is gone, all they will have left is each other. And they’ll wonder why you wanted that to not be the case.”

       “Why are we talking about this now?” Sìle demanded. “Why didn’t we talk about this when you found out about me and my children?”

       “Oh, my dear, I fully admit how much I despised the very idea of you. Even so, the children have found each other. Pierce isn’t going to set your daughter up for sex trafficking.”

       “Jesus, Mum,” I swore in disgust.

       “So, there’s no problem with her staying with him for a few days.”

       “Why don’t you understand? I don’t want her going to London.”

       “Sìle,” my father interrupted. “Nothing’s going to happen to her. And if you carry on like this, she’s going to resent you. If she goes, she has a look, there’s no guarantee she’ll even like London.”

       “There we are, then.” My mother clapped in conclusion. “Rhona will call Pierce, arrange a flight down. She can also do us all a favour and meet this girlfriend of Pierce’s.”

       Silence ruled the line. “You’ve got a girlfriend?” My father sounded incredulous.

       “Yes.”

       “Really?” Sìle sounded confused. “A real, live, functioning female?”

       My mother’s nostrils flared. “You don’t know my son well enough to make that assessment. In fact, you don’t know him at all. You understand the only reason why any of your children can even think about attending university is because Pierce asked me? Because he told me his brothers and sister shouldn’t have to struggle? So when you make statements - inaccurate, disparaging, irritating statements - about
my
son, remember that.”

       Sìle didn’t say a word. My father cleared his throat and said, “Well. I’m sure Rhona will be pleased to spend some time with Pierce. She talks about you all the time.”

       “Does she?” I felt rather delighted. Nice to be spoken about with consideration rather than condemnation. “She’s a sweet girl. Smart for a Callun.”

       “She’s smart full stop,” Sìle said decisively. “Three days only. And I want to see prospectuses from the open days.”

       I lost my patience. “It’s not up to me to do that. I’ve already looked around my sodding university. Go and lay down the rules to Rhona. She’s getting a free place to stay, food, drink, and my short-lived attention. Just say,
Thank you, have a nice time, I’ll let you know when she comes back.
Don’t fancy doing that instead?”

       Sìle again found wisdom in silence.
No apology forthcoming
, I thought.
Fuck you too, then
. My mother clapped her hands together, bringing the attention back to her.

       “On that note, I will say goodnight to you both. My son and I are going to get just a little bit drunk.”

       “Are we?” I said, bemused. We weren’t that type of family.

       “Oh, yes, indeed. My treat,” she said with such a brilliant smile, I had to chuckle.

       “Have a good time, Pierce.” My father’s voice, filled with kindness, boomed across the room, obviously forgoing the volume control once more. “Perhaps we can do the same when you get back.”

       “Didn’t we do that already?”

       “You got in with the drinking before I could even hope to join you.”

       “All right, Dad. No whisky though.”

       “Received and understood.”

       “Goodnight, Sìle,” my mother called out.

       “Bye, then. And Pierce, I am grateful. Rhona adores you.”

       As she should. “Thanks.”

       We ended the call and my mother gave a stretch. “Do you want a shower and then we’ll go?”

       Hold on. “You’re serious about the drinking thing?”