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She withdraws her hand rather quickly and clasps it along with the other close to her chest.
‘You better come in,’ she says, and leads us into her living room. It is exactly as I expected it to be. As clean as two new pins with net curtains, family photos galore, and dainty china figurines on the windowsill.
‘Take a seat,’ she invites, and hovering uncertainly at the door asks if we would like something to drink.
‘No, you sit down and I’ll fix us all a drink. What will you have, Mother?’
I take the sofa and she perches on the end of a velour-covered Queen Anne chair. ‘I’ll have a sherry,’ she says. I notice that her hands are tightly clenched in her lap.
‘Lily?’ Jake looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
‘I’ll have whatever you’re having then.’
Jake walks to the carved armoire and opens it. One shelf holds an impressive selection of alcohol.
‘So how did the two of you meet?’ Mara probes.
I return my gaze to her. She is smiling politely, but her eyes are sharp. ‘Shane introduced us,’ I reply.
She frowns. ‘Shane?’
‘Yes, I was working as a dancer at Eden.’
‘Dancer?’
Ah! Malice disguised as moral outrage. She just about stopped herself from crossing herself.
‘She was,’ Jake interrupts smoothly. ‘She doesn’t dance anymore.’
His mother turns to him. There is a puzzled, curious expression on her face. ‘Oh!’
‘Now she works for me.’
‘Really?’ she says softly, taking her glass of sherry from her son.
I have the urge to down the entire contents of my glass, but I don’t. Instead I hold the glass in my hand and endure fifteen minutes of interrogation disguised as polite chat.
Finally, his mother stands. ‘Please excuse me. I think lunch might be ready.’ She disappears into the kitchen and I feel the tenseness in my shoulders go.
‘I think she likes you,’ Jake whispers.
‘I think she doesn’t,’ I whisper back.
‘I think she’ll come around,’ he consoles, and kisses me on the nose.
For some weird reason, his words touch me. I look into his eyes and he looks back and we are both so lost in each other’s gaze that we don’t hear his mother come back into the room.
She clears her throat and both of us turn to look at her. Her face is white and she seems shocked by something.
Even Jake notices. ‘What’s the matter, Mum?’ he asks, standing up and going to her. He puts his arm around her narrow shoulders, making her appear smaller and quite fragile.
She shakes her head and smiles weakly. ‘Someone walking over my grave.’
I stand, too, but I am conscious that she doesn’t want me near her. The truth is that she can barely bring herself to look at me.
‘Come on, lunch is ready,’ she says briskly.
‘Would you like some help?’ I ask, knowing what the answer will be.
