Page 31 of The Mother-in-Law

‘I’m not going,’ Nettie says.

‘Oh. Why not?’

She sighs. ‘Money. Time.’

I nod. But it seems to me that a girls trip might be exactly what Nettie needs.

‘Have you seen Lucy and Archie?’ I ask her.

‘Not since the hospital.’

‘I’ve just been to visit them.’

‘Oh.’ Nettie turns the page of the newspaper, studiously uninterested. ‘How are they?’

‘I think Lucy’s had better days. But that’s what it’s like with a new baby.’ The clock on the oven catches my attention. It’s earlier than usual. Not even five o’clock. ‘Nettie, shouldn’t you be at work?’

‘I left early.’

‘Are you allowed to do that?’

‘I’m allowed to do anything I like.’

I look at her. She’s in a strange mood. Her posture is sullen, almost teenage.

‘Is something the matter, Nettie?’

She shakes her head, of course. My daughter, for all her softness and light, is fiercely private, at least with me. She’s actually one of only a handful of people who can make me uncertain of myself. I enjoy this about her, the juxtaposition of it. There was a time though when Nettie used to open up to me. When she was younger, I practically had to tell her tostoptelling me things. ‘Some things,’ I’d say, ‘are for sharing with your girlfriends, Antoinette.’ But somewhere along the line she’d stopped sharing so much. Started talking to Patrick, I assume.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask.

She’ll never divulge that she’d dearly love a baby. That she wished it washerholding a newborn instead of Lucy. I know it’s true just the same. The poor girl is so desperate for a baby it’s practically written on her skin. Her polycystic ovarian syndrome makes it tricky to conceive, but there must be things she can do to help. She’s probably already doingthings. But she won’t tell me and I won’t ask, instead we’ll just be together for a little while, not saying anything at all.

‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’ I ask as I put away the groceries.

‘No,’ she says. ‘I need to get home to Patrick.’

‘Patrick is welcome to join us too,’ I say dutifully.

In the early days, Nettie and Patrick would come to dinner often. They’d retire to the den after dinner and Patrick would mix drinks and smoke cigars with Tom. Patrick always seemed so comfortable that, for a while, I worried we’d never have a night to ourselves. But a year or two in, he stopped coming, save for Christmas and family occasions.

‘No,’ she says. ‘I’ll go home.’

‘You know, if something is bothering you, you can talk to me about it,’ I say. ‘I might not be the best conversationalist . . . but I’m not a bad listener.’

Nettie looks at me, and for a long moment I think she might cry. Nettie is not a crier, she hasn’t been since she was a very little girl. But a few seconds pass and Nettie regains her composure, sits straight. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ she says. ‘But everything is fine.’

16

LUCY

The past . . .

‘Are you feeling okay?’ Ollie asks.

I nod gloomily.

‘Not carsick?’