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Our relationship had always been more on the volatile end of the spectrum. There had been bickering, door-slamming and ignoring each other for days on end when I was a teenager. Even now, she had the ability to wind me up within seconds, as though she knew exactly what my insecurities were and made a conscious (or perhaps, to give her the benefit of the doubt, unconscious) effort to go ahead and play on them anyway.
‘Tony!’ I heard her shriek. ‘Wake up. It’s Hannah, she’s got herself in a right mess.’
I closed my eyes for a second or two. I would have called Ellie if I’d known her number off by heart.
‘Mum, don’t panic. I’ll sort it out. I’ve got a ticket for the next train to Amsterdam. If it runs on time, I should just about make it in time for the ceremony. It’s not until 5.30.’
‘And Paris. Is it even safe? You’ve never even been to France before, Hannah!’
‘Hmmn.’
This was hardly the time to tell her about that one ill-fated trip.
Tony groaned in the background – he could sleep through anything, Tony – and I heard Mum telling him in a pitchy, garbled voice what had happened. She made it sound much worse than it was.
‘Tony said give us the number of the phone you’re using and we’ll ring you back. You need to save your money, Hannah. Have you had anything to eat? Are you warm enough?’
There she went, going off on one as usual, talking to me as though I had the common sense of a four-year-old. I gave her the number, replaced the receiver and waited. It rang a minute or so later.
‘Hannah?’
‘Non, pardon, you must ’ave the wrong number,’ I said, putting on a French accent in an attempt to lighten the mood and also because I knew it would piss her off.
‘Who is this, please? I’m looking for my daughter, Hannah.’
I laughed lightly. ‘It’s me, Mum. I’m joking.’
‘For God’s sake. I’m worried sick now and so is Tony.’
‘He hasn’t gone back to sleep, then?’
A pause. ‘Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean––’
‘Never mind.’
I imagined Tony with his rapidly receding hairline, the beige Bermuda shorts he insisted on wearing no matter the weather hanging neatly over the back of the chair next to his bed. He told me it was because he was a postman and he’d built up an immunity to the cold over the years. As stepfathers went, he was actually pretty cool. He liked The Rolling Stones and football and watching documentaries about real-life crime. And he’d never taken sides, even in the early days, when he and Mum had first met. I’d been fifteen then and had fallen out with a group of friends at school and hated Mum (and everyone else) and he’d been very patient with me, very gentle, and had let our relationship develop slowly, over time. He’d never been a replacement for Dad, I think we both knew that, but I suspected that if I ever needed him, he would be there in a heartbeat. Not that I’d ever really tested the theory, but still. It was nice to know.
‘Look, I’m guessing Si hasn’t been in touch yet, but if he calls, tell him I’m fine and that I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ I said to Mum.
I heard a sigh and a rustle of sheets. She’d be getting back into bed. Eight o’clock was when she got up and not a moment before.
‘Poor Si, he’ll be going up the wall,’ she said.
Of course Si would be the one she felt sorry for. He was like the son she’d never had. Lately, when she called the house phone, I’d noticed she sounded disappointed when it was me who answered and not him.
‘He’s lovely, Hannah,’ she’d said with a rare burst of excitement when I’d taken him home for the first time. We’d been out in the kitchen making tea for everyone.
‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ I’d said, reaching into the cupboard to get out four mugs. ‘He’s very good-looking,’ she whispered conspiratorially.
I laughed softly. ‘He is, isn’t he?’
Mum arranged four paper napkins on the tray in the shape of a fan. ‘I hate to say it, but I’d almost given up on you finding someone.’
I concentrated on rearranging the mugs, spacing them out evenly.
‘Really? Didn’t realise you’d written me off so quickly.’
Mum cleared her throat. ‘It’s not that. It’s just, well … when you think about the other boyfriends you’ve brought home.’
