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‘Oh, has Benedict arrived?’ she asked, pinning a stray piece of hair at the nape of neck.
‘With suitcases,’ Audrey said, in a way that made suitcases sound like a dirty word. Vivien turned to her daughter, taking in her bewildered expression.
‘Brian isn’t coming back. You know I’m no good on my own. Benedict is going to keep me company for a few weeks. I thought you’d be pleased, not having to babysit me anymore.’
‘It’s not babysitting, I don’t mind. I love it when it’s just the two of us.’
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ said Vivien, looking anything but sorry.
‘Well, you could have checked with me first. I live here, too,’ Audrey said, pacing up and down the bedroom.
‘It is my house,’ said Vivien sharply. ‘You’re an adult now. You can go and live in the halls with all the other students if you don’t like my arrangements.’
‘Why can’t you just be on your own for a bit?’ Audrey changed tack, pleading now.
‘It’s not how I’m built, Audrey. You know it’s not how I’m built.’
Audrey felt the weight of this settle in her chest. Falling in love seemed like a dangerous thing. Every time it happened to her mother, Audrey lost her family, or her home. Love was not safe and warm; it was a wild wind that could rip your life apart.
