After You
Page 75
‘It must be strange, not going back,’ I said, then winced internally, wondering if I’d breached some invisible line.
But Mrs Traynor just gazed at the tablecloth in front of her. ‘It is,’ she agreed, and nodded, her smile a little tighter, then drank some more water.
The conversation carried on like this through our starters (smoked salmon for Lily, salad for Mrs Traynor and me), stalling and moving forward in fits and starts, like someone learning to drive a car. It was with some relief that I saw the waiter approach with our main courses. My smile disappeared as he placed my plate in front of me. It did not look like beef. It looked like soggy brown discs in a thick brown sauce.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said to the waiter. ‘I ordered the beef?’
He let his gaze hang on me for a moment. ‘This is the beef, Madame.’
We both stared at my plate.
‘Joues de boeuf?’ he said. ‘Beef cheeks?’
‘Beef cheeks?’
We both stared at my plate and my stomach did a little flip.
‘Oh, of course,’ I said. ‘I – yes. Beef cheeks. Thank you.’
Beef cheeks. I was too afraid to ask from which end they came. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. I smiled at Mrs Traynor, and set about nibbling my gnocchi.
We ate in near silence. Mrs Traynor and I were both running out of conversational options. Lily spoke little, and when she did say something it was spiky, as if she were testing her grandmother. She toyed with her food, a reluctant teen dragged along to a too-fancy lunch with the grown-ups. I ate mine in small forkfuls, trying not to listen to the little voice that kept squeaking in my ear: You’re eating cheeks! Actual cheeks!
Eventually we ordered coffee. When the waiter had gone, Mrs Traynor removed her napkin and put it on the table. ‘I can’t do this any longer.’
Lily’s head lifted. She looked at me and back at Mrs Traynor.
‘The food is very nice and it’s lovely hearing about your jobs and all, but this really isn’t going to move us forward, is it?’
I wondered if she was going to leave, whether Lily had pushed her too far. I saw the surprise in Lily’s face and realized she was thinking it too. But instead Mrs Traynor pushed away her cup and saucer, and leaned forward over the table. ‘Lily, I didn’t come to impress you with a fancy lunch. I came to say I’m sorry. It’s hard to explain how I was when you turned up that day, but that unfortunate meeting was not your fault, and I want to apologize that your introduction to this side of your family has been so … inadequate.’
The waiter approached with the coffee, and Mrs Traynor lifted her hand without turning. ‘Can you leave us for two minutes, please?’
He backed away swiftly with his tray. I sat very still. Mrs Traynor, her face taut and her voice urgent, took a breath. ‘Lily, I lost my son – your father – and in truth I probably lost him some time before he died. His death took away everything my life was built on: my role as a mother, my family, my career, even my faith. I have felt, frankly, as if I descended into a dark hole. But to discover that he had a daughter – that I have a granddaughter – has made me think all might not be lost.’
She swallowed.
‘I’m not going to say that you’ve returned part of him to me, because that wouldn’t be fair on you. You are, as I’ve already grasped, very much your own person. You’ve brought me a whole new person to care about. I hope you’ll give me a second chance, Lily. Because I would very much like – no, dammit – I would love for us to spend time together. Louisa tells me you’re a strong character. Well, you should know that it runs in your family. So we’ll probably butt heads a few times, just as I did with your father. But essentially, if nothing else comes of today, you must know this.’
She took Lily’s hand and gripped it. ‘I’m so very glad to know you. You’ve changed everything so much simply by existing. My daughter, your aunt Georgina, is flying over next month to meet you, and has already been asking if the two of us might go over to Sydney and stay with her at some point. I have a letter from her for you in my handbag.’
Her voice dropped. ‘I know we can never make up for your father not being here, and I know I’m not – well, I’m still climbing out of things rather – but … do you think … perhaps …. you could find some room for a rather difficult grandmother?’
Lily stared at her.
‘Might you at least … give it a go?’
Mrs Traynor’s voice cracked slightly on the last sentence. There was a long silence. I could hear the beating of my heart in my ears. Lily looked at me, and after what seemed like an eternity, she looked back at Mrs Traynor. ‘Would you … would you want me to come and stay with you?’
‘If you wanted to. Yes, I would like that very much.’
‘When?’
‘When can you come?’
I’d never seen Camilla Traynor anything less than composed, but at that moment her face crumpled. Her other hand crept across the table. After a second’s hesitation, Lily took it, and they gripped each other’s fingers tightly across the white linen, like survivors of a shipwreck, while the waiter stood holding his tray, unsure when he could safely move forward again.
‘I’ll bring her back tomorrow afternoon.’
I stood in the car park as Lily hung back by Mrs Traynor’s car. She had eaten two puddings – her chocolate molten pot and my own (I had completely lost my appetite by then) and was casually examining the waistband of her jeans. ‘You’re sure?’ I wasn’t sure which of them I was directing this to. I was conscious how fragile this new entente cordiale was, how easy it would be for it to flare up and go wrong.
‘We’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t have work tomorrow, Louisa,’ Lily called out. ‘Samir’s cousin does Sundays.’
It felt odd leaving them there, even if Lily was beaming. I wanted to say ‘no smoking’, and ‘no swearing’ and maybe even ‘How about we do this some other time?’ but Lily waved and climbed into the passenger seat of Mrs Traynor’s Golf with barely a backward glance.
It was done. Out of my hands.
Mrs Traynor turned to join her.
‘Mrs Traynor? Can I ask you something?’
She stopped. ‘Camilla. I think you and I are beyond formalities, don’t you?’
‘Camilla. Did you ever speak to Lily’s mother?’
‘Ah. Yes, I did.’ She stooped to pick some tiny weed out of a border. ‘I told her I was hoping to spend a lot of time with Lily in the future. And that I was quite conscious that in her eyes I was no kind of maternal role model, but that, frankly, none of us appeared to be ideal in that role, and it would behove her to think carefully, for once, about putting her child’s happiness before her own.’
My jaw might have dropped a little. ‘“Behove” is an excellent word,’ I said, when I could speak.
‘It is rather, isn’t it?’ She straightened. The faintest hint of mischief glinted in her eyes. ‘Yes. Well. The Tanya Houghton-Millers of this world hold no fears for me. I think we’ll rub along just fine, Lily and I.’
I made to move back to my car, but this time Mrs Traynor stopped me. ‘Thank you, Louisa.’
But Mrs Traynor just gazed at the tablecloth in front of her. ‘It is,’ she agreed, and nodded, her smile a little tighter, then drank some more water.
The conversation carried on like this through our starters (smoked salmon for Lily, salad for Mrs Traynor and me), stalling and moving forward in fits and starts, like someone learning to drive a car. It was with some relief that I saw the waiter approach with our main courses. My smile disappeared as he placed my plate in front of me. It did not look like beef. It looked like soggy brown discs in a thick brown sauce.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said to the waiter. ‘I ordered the beef?’
He let his gaze hang on me for a moment. ‘This is the beef, Madame.’
We both stared at my plate.
‘Joues de boeuf?’ he said. ‘Beef cheeks?’
‘Beef cheeks?’
We both stared at my plate and my stomach did a little flip.
‘Oh, of course,’ I said. ‘I – yes. Beef cheeks. Thank you.’
Beef cheeks. I was too afraid to ask from which end they came. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. I smiled at Mrs Traynor, and set about nibbling my gnocchi.
We ate in near silence. Mrs Traynor and I were both running out of conversational options. Lily spoke little, and when she did say something it was spiky, as if she were testing her grandmother. She toyed with her food, a reluctant teen dragged along to a too-fancy lunch with the grown-ups. I ate mine in small forkfuls, trying not to listen to the little voice that kept squeaking in my ear: You’re eating cheeks! Actual cheeks!
Eventually we ordered coffee. When the waiter had gone, Mrs Traynor removed her napkin and put it on the table. ‘I can’t do this any longer.’
Lily’s head lifted. She looked at me and back at Mrs Traynor.
‘The food is very nice and it’s lovely hearing about your jobs and all, but this really isn’t going to move us forward, is it?’
I wondered if she was going to leave, whether Lily had pushed her too far. I saw the surprise in Lily’s face and realized she was thinking it too. But instead Mrs Traynor pushed away her cup and saucer, and leaned forward over the table. ‘Lily, I didn’t come to impress you with a fancy lunch. I came to say I’m sorry. It’s hard to explain how I was when you turned up that day, but that unfortunate meeting was not your fault, and I want to apologize that your introduction to this side of your family has been so … inadequate.’
The waiter approached with the coffee, and Mrs Traynor lifted her hand without turning. ‘Can you leave us for two minutes, please?’
He backed away swiftly with his tray. I sat very still. Mrs Traynor, her face taut and her voice urgent, took a breath. ‘Lily, I lost my son – your father – and in truth I probably lost him some time before he died. His death took away everything my life was built on: my role as a mother, my family, my career, even my faith. I have felt, frankly, as if I descended into a dark hole. But to discover that he had a daughter – that I have a granddaughter – has made me think all might not be lost.’
She swallowed.
‘I’m not going to say that you’ve returned part of him to me, because that wouldn’t be fair on you. You are, as I’ve already grasped, very much your own person. You’ve brought me a whole new person to care about. I hope you’ll give me a second chance, Lily. Because I would very much like – no, dammit – I would love for us to spend time together. Louisa tells me you’re a strong character. Well, you should know that it runs in your family. So we’ll probably butt heads a few times, just as I did with your father. But essentially, if nothing else comes of today, you must know this.’
She took Lily’s hand and gripped it. ‘I’m so very glad to know you. You’ve changed everything so much simply by existing. My daughter, your aunt Georgina, is flying over next month to meet you, and has already been asking if the two of us might go over to Sydney and stay with her at some point. I have a letter from her for you in my handbag.’
Her voice dropped. ‘I know we can never make up for your father not being here, and I know I’m not – well, I’m still climbing out of things rather – but … do you think … perhaps …. you could find some room for a rather difficult grandmother?’
Lily stared at her.
‘Might you at least … give it a go?’
Mrs Traynor’s voice cracked slightly on the last sentence. There was a long silence. I could hear the beating of my heart in my ears. Lily looked at me, and after what seemed like an eternity, she looked back at Mrs Traynor. ‘Would you … would you want me to come and stay with you?’
‘If you wanted to. Yes, I would like that very much.’
‘When?’
‘When can you come?’
I’d never seen Camilla Traynor anything less than composed, but at that moment her face crumpled. Her other hand crept across the table. After a second’s hesitation, Lily took it, and they gripped each other’s fingers tightly across the white linen, like survivors of a shipwreck, while the waiter stood holding his tray, unsure when he could safely move forward again.
‘I’ll bring her back tomorrow afternoon.’
I stood in the car park as Lily hung back by Mrs Traynor’s car. She had eaten two puddings – her chocolate molten pot and my own (I had completely lost my appetite by then) and was casually examining the waistband of her jeans. ‘You’re sure?’ I wasn’t sure which of them I was directing this to. I was conscious how fragile this new entente cordiale was, how easy it would be for it to flare up and go wrong.
‘We’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t have work tomorrow, Louisa,’ Lily called out. ‘Samir’s cousin does Sundays.’
It felt odd leaving them there, even if Lily was beaming. I wanted to say ‘no smoking’, and ‘no swearing’ and maybe even ‘How about we do this some other time?’ but Lily waved and climbed into the passenger seat of Mrs Traynor’s Golf with barely a backward glance.
It was done. Out of my hands.
Mrs Traynor turned to join her.
‘Mrs Traynor? Can I ask you something?’
She stopped. ‘Camilla. I think you and I are beyond formalities, don’t you?’
‘Camilla. Did you ever speak to Lily’s mother?’
‘Ah. Yes, I did.’ She stooped to pick some tiny weed out of a border. ‘I told her I was hoping to spend a lot of time with Lily in the future. And that I was quite conscious that in her eyes I was no kind of maternal role model, but that, frankly, none of us appeared to be ideal in that role, and it would behove her to think carefully, for once, about putting her child’s happiness before her own.’
My jaw might have dropped a little. ‘“Behove” is an excellent word,’ I said, when I could speak.
‘It is rather, isn’t it?’ She straightened. The faintest hint of mischief glinted in her eyes. ‘Yes. Well. The Tanya Houghton-Millers of this world hold no fears for me. I think we’ll rub along just fine, Lily and I.’
I made to move back to my car, but this time Mrs Traynor stopped me. ‘Thank you, Louisa.’
