Right Number, Wrong Girl

“You loved it.”

“I did. It was still irritating, though. And the fact I loved it made it all the more irritating,” she explained. “Are you going to London today?”

“How do you know I plan to?”

“I overheard your brother speaking to your dad. They’re not nearly as quiet as they think they are.”

I could agree with that.

“I’m surprised you didn’t go last night.”

“I wanted to,” I admitted. “But Cait and Henry said they thought she needed space. I don’t know, Grandma. I stood there and let Mum berate and belittle her and everything she’s done, and I didn’t say a word in her defence. I should have stopped her.”

She nodded slowly. “She was very harsh, but you didn’t speak because you have a great deal of respect for your mother. It was difficult on her, too.”

“But it’s not the same.” I put the cup down. “I respect Mum greatly, but that’s not an excuse for not standing up to her. Sophie needed someone to do it, and I was too fucking pathetic to do it.”

“Oh, you’re not pathetic.” She set her mug down, too. “There are worse things in life than a young man respecting his mother. Heck, even I respect her, but you’re not to tell her that.”

My lips twitched.

“You were between a rock and a hard place, and no matter what you chose to do, you would have felt regret and done wrong. I think you did the right thing.”

“You do? Why?”

“Because if you are in love with this girl and she’s the one you can see your future with, you need to get your house in order.” She looked at me firmly. “This will all be yours one day. There’s a very good chance your mother will still be alive when that happens, and you need to ensure that your wife has a smooth transition.”

I sighed.

That was what Dad had said.

“What about you and Mum? You can’t get through ten minutes together without fighting.”

“Not now, but when your grandfather died, who do you think looked after me?” She raised her eyebrows. “Your father was busy taking over the estate and arranging the funeral, but I was so bereft I could barely get out of bed on a morning.”

I swallowed.

“Your mother brought me tea and toast on a morning. She made sure I had a good lunch every day with fresh fruit, and she pulled me out of bed for my favourite dinner every single night, even if it meant everyone ate the same thing for five days in a row. She ensured I got outside the house for fresh air, even if it was only opening a window or sitting on a step. There were fresh tulips on my bedside table every day because she brought them with her morning greeting.

“When we buried your grandpa, she was the one who stood by my side and held me up when my world collapsed around me.” Grandma glanced down for a moment, then she visibly straightened her spine and met my gaze again. “She’s a pain in my backside, but she’s a good woman. She’s also dealing with her own world of betrayal right now, so give her some grace. She’s not a bad person.”

“She acted like one.”

“Sometimes good people do bad things. Sometimes good people have emotions and reactions that make them seem like bad people. What good people don’t have is a bad heart. Your mother is a good person. It’s just wrapped under several layers of bullshit.”

“You know it’s bad when she’s speaking kindly of me.” Mum appeared in the doorway, hovering almost uncertainly. “Might I join you?”

Grandma looked at me.

I waved to the sofa she was sitting on. “Go ahead.”

Mum sat down gently next to Grandma. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“If you’re going to sit there and shit on Sophie, I’m not going to listen to it,” I warned her. “I should have told you to cut it out last night, and I didn’t. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

She nodded. “I know.”

I paused.