‘Is it?’
‘Hmm. Yes. And – I don’t know. He just wasn’t quite what I had imagined in the flesh. And the whole thing about the business associates joining us – he never really clarified whatline of business he was in. It was clearly very lucrative but the way he described it, trading commodities, just sounded a bit shady. And in all honesty, I suppose there was still a little niggle of concern about being stood up the first time. The story never quite stacked up properly and I’d been ignoring the alarm bells, but he started to try and explain it again during the taxi ride and I just didn’t buy it. By the time we’d reached his villa I could tell it wasn’t going to work so I asked his driver to take me back to the airport.’ She folded her hands into her lap. ‘And here we are.’
‘Whoa!’ I said. ‘You just saidI’m not feeling it – see you later?’
‘I did. Well, except for thesee you later. I think it’s fairly evident that won’t be happening.’
‘And he was okay with that? Having forked out for your ticket and made all those plans?’ Suddenly I felt bad for poor old Roger.
‘It was his decision to do that without having met me first.Caveat emptor, etcetera. I mean, he wasn’t thrilled. But as I said to him, neither of us are getting any younger. There’s no point in wasting time on something that’s not going anywhere.’
‘True, Mum. But a bit brutal. Goodness me. Did you even get a chance to have a good old nose around the villa first?’
‘Sadly not. I didn’t feel it would have been appropriate, given the circumstances. We pulled up right outside. It looked delightful, bougainvillea everywhere, wrought-iron-gated entrance, right on the beach. And I just said, very politely, would it be possible to drive back to Malaga and if not, please point me in the direction of the nearest taxi rank. He was a little put out. Understandably. A few words were exchanged with the driver in Spanish. Sounded fairly heated but maybe that’s just the language. And then he got out of the car.’
‘Adios amigo,’ I said.
‘As I said to Lianne when she was telling me about her ex on the flight home, you’ve got to trust your gut instincts where menare concerned. To be honest, where anything’s concerned. That’s a lesson I’ve learned since your father died. Listen to that inner voice a little bit more.’
I was silent for a moment and then I reached out and grabbed her hand. ‘Do you know what, Mum,’ I said. ‘That was a brave thing to do. Brave and dignified. I’m really proud of you.’
She nodded quietly to herself and gave my fingers the slightest of squeezes before withdrawing.
‘Please put both hands on the wheel, darling,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to die because we’ve crashed into a wheelie bin somewhere in the suburbs of Luton. That would be extremely unchic.’
‘Of course,’ I said, sneaking a sideways glance at her. She seemed okay but it’s hard to tell with my mother. She must have been a bit shaken by the experience. ‘Do you want to stay at ours tonight?’ I said. ‘Spare bed’s made up and you’ve got all your luggage. We could watch a film with Layla. Might be nice?’
She agreed that this would be an excellent idea and then asked if we could have the radio on so she could catch up with the news, having been out of the country for all of two minutes. This put the kybosh on any further conversation until we reached home and Joe padded out across the drive in his socked feet, a weary look on his face.
‘Hello Meredith,’ he said as Mum gestured for him to take her suitcase. ‘Lucky you’re here actually.’ He nodded back in the direction of the house, his expression tight-lipped. ‘I’m hoping you can talk some sense into your granddaughter. She’s decided she’s not going back to university.’
Chapter Thirty-One
It’s been over a week since Layla was due to return to student life and so far there’s no shifting her. She maintains that she’s tried her best, she’s given it a term, but being back for Christmas made her realise how homesick she’s been, and how unsuited to university life she is. While there’s a small selfish part of me that’s gratified to hear how much she misses us all (I’m assuming she misses me more than anyone else, naturally), there’s also a big logical part of me that knows we need to make her explore this decision further. After all, I’m a responsible parent and this is my daughter’s entire future we’re talking about. And if I wasn’t aware of my role then it’s safe to say my husband has made it crystal clear that he holds me at least partially responsible for this particular wobble, and that I need to be the one to fix it.
‘To be honest, Hattie,’ he said today, halfway through yet another conversation regardingwhat to do(never a good sign when someone starts a sentence that way – you know something brutal is coming), ‘I just wonder whether the kind of conversations you and Layla have been having over the holidays might have persuaded her that she hates university, when in reality she doesn’t.’ He folded his arms decisively, as if a grossly unfair accusation of that nature was the real gamechanger here.
‘Uhm, I’m sorry?’ I said, bracing my own arms against the kitchen table like a military general about to move some tiny plastic tanks across a large map. ‘Are you seriously implying that I caused this?’
‘Not that you caused it exactly.’ His brow furrowed. ‘But you have been asking about her other friends from school and how they’re getting on, anddoes she think that the fact they’reat universities closer to home means they’ve settled in more easily.’
‘Well, yes but I didn’t mean it like…’
‘And you’ve also been talking a lot about Akil at work and how he’s looking at the University of Hertfordshire because he doesn’t want to be too far from home and that he might actually commute, and how much money that will save in the long run.’
‘Yes,’ I said, defensively. ‘And that’s all true. Heislooking at Hertfordshire. And theywillsave money on accommodation if he goes there.’
‘But they don’t even do Layla’s course at Hertfordshire, do they?’
‘Iknow! I wasn’ttalkingabout Layla applying there, was I?’
‘I’m not sure. Doessheknow that?’ He raised his eyebrows in a way that made me want to smack him in the mouth. ‘And your family don’t help either. Rich going on and on at her over Christmas about what a great time she must be having and how he’s sure she can’t wait to get back there, and how many clubs has she joined and how many nights is she out on the lash and bet she’s hardly had time to study but it’s okay because it’s all about making connections and rah rah rah.’
‘That’s Rich though, you can’t hold me responsible for him. That line of questioning pissed me off just as much as you. He’s just re-living his student days vicariously through his niece. In fact, I don’t even think he’s re-living them. More re-inventing. From what I remember, Rich was pretty miserable the first year of uni and didn’t have any friends beyond the badminton club.’
‘Either way.’ Joe sighed unhappily. ‘I’m just looking for answers here Hattie because I don’t understand it. I’m trying to make sense ofwhyshe’d do this. And…’ He took a deep breath. ‘And I just wonder whether the constant drawing of attention to the gap between everyone else’s perception of student life and our own daughter’s current experience of it, the barrage ofmessages and calls and FaceTiming between the two of you the whole of the last term… Whether it’s helped – or, or maybe, don’t take this the wrong way, made things a bit worse?’
There was an ominous pause.
