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I let myself into the house a little after six in the evening. “Talia?” I called out.
Silence greeted me.
In the kitchen, I found a note from her.
Gone to George’s. Need to talk.
With George or me? I frowned. What did I tell her about Stefan’s offer? I could warn her I might move out or leave it until I was certain. I dug about in the cupboards and found a packet of dried pasta and sauce. Quite a comedown after Stefan’s cooking, but I couldn’t be bothered to go shopping. I poured boiling water onto the mixture, reconstituted the miserable meal, downed it quickly then trudged upstairs to my bedroom. Lying on my back on the bed, I sent a text to Stefan, informing him that I was back safely. He replied promptly.
Battle of wills here. Dad refusing to cooperate with Bianca. She’s made of tough stuff, though. Missing you. X
I guessed Bianca was the live-in caregiver. Young or old, I wondered. I imagined a stalwart kind of person, with brawny arms for lifting geriatrics, and stout legs.
Good luck! Missing you 2 x
I also sent a text to my mother.
A few seconds later, the telephone rang—not my mobile, but the landline. I groaned
, heaved off the bed and dashed downstairs to answer the archaic corded telephone.
“Callie,” snapped my mother.
“Mum,” I answered less than enthusiastically.
“Well?”
I imagined her eyebrows pinned to the top of her forehead. One word laced with so much curiosity.
I’d prepared a speech. Without mentioning the word boyfriend, I divulged scant details about my trip to Germany. I kept to the line about helping a friend out. As excuses went, it was pretty lame, and I stuttered my explanation, leaving out many facts, like sex and moving in with him, and instead stuck to sailing boats and swimming pools.
“Swimming? I thought you’d gone to help him. How does going for a swim help? Sailing? When have you ever shown any interest in boats?”
I slumped into a nearby chair and buried my head in a hand, phone glued to my ear. “It was less of a crisis than I thought.” Which wasn’t a lie. Stefan’s father could have been much worse.
The line went quiet for a few seconds before she spoke again. “You stopped bringing Micah to see me because… Well, you know mine and Charlene’s opinions of him. Is this going to be a repeat—ignoring me?”
“No!” My quick response took me by surprise. Stefan was nothing like Micah, which made me realize that I missed Stefan and needed his comforting arm embracing me.
“Then bring him for Sunday lunch. Yes?” It wasn’t a suggestion. Mother wanted to meet the man in my life and fobbing her off wouldn’t be an option.
“All right.” I resigned myself to the fate of parental interference. “Dad would have liked him,” I said impulsively.
“Darling, your father liked everyone. He was a generous man.”
She moved the conversation on to other things, rattled off inconsequential gossip about the neighbors, and I stifled several yawns before she finished the call.
My mobile beeped, my popularity unexpected. I’d ignored all the texts from Charlene, refusing to reply to her vulture-like inquisition, especially as she had sent her first text with the opening words—What have you gone and done now?
To my relief, it was Stefan with an update.
Blood pressure shot up this evening. Bianca very patient—Dad a bad patient. I played him Chopin Nocturnes until he calmed down.
Your BP or his?
LOL. His, mine too, probably. Sleep well x
Can’t without you. Xxxx
