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I’m in reasonable spirits as I wander downstairs, although my stomach is growling with hunger. A long time has passed since my M&S sandwich, and James and I normally eat fairly early. Supper here isn’t served until eight o’clock, so I have another hour to wait.
‘Hello darling, Margot told me you’d come. What a lovely surprise! Are you staying for long?’ My mother gets up from the armchair where she was sitting reading one of the crime thriller novels that she loves and wraps her arms around me.
‘I don’t know,’ I tell her. ‘James cheated again. I’ve left him.’
Something about the finality of saying this to my mother hits a nerve, and I realise I’m crying. I’m not really sure why, I think it’s probably the release of tension and pent-up hurt, along with grief that the marriage I’d poured myself into wholeheartedly four years ago has come to this. My mother takes a very practical, matter-of-fact approach to things, so her response to my sudden weeping is simply to hand me a tissue.
‘Fix yourself a drink, darling. When you’re ready, you can tell me all about it.’ She settles herself back in her chair and picks up her book. I wander over to the drinks trolley and decide on a stiff gin and tonic. It’s been quite a day and I reckon I’ve earned it. I can feel Mum’s eyes on me as I slosh a generous measure of Tanqueray into the glass, but she doesn’t say anything.
‘You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, don’t you?’ she tells me, once I’ve had a couple of mouthfuls and the tears have stopped.
‘Thank you. I hoped you’d say that. Obviously, I need to decide what I’m going to do, but it all feels a bit overwhelming at the moment.’
‘Are you ready to tell me what happened?’
I nod and take her through the series of events from deciding to re-start our sex lives (my mother is pretty unshockable, so I’ve always been able to talk to her about things like that), through discovering that he’d sold my wedding necklace, to finding him naked in Becky’s wardrobe. I gloss over the worst bits of my confrontation with him and Rosalind this morning, as she does have strong views on bad language. She’ll listen to streams of invective from my father without batting an eyelid but, ever since she read some article inTatlerabout it, she’s held a firm opinion that swearing is unladylike and picks me up on every profanity. She listens intently, but doesn’t offer any opinions until I’ve finished.
‘Is this definitely it?’ she asks, when I’ve finished.
‘I can’t carry on, Mum. The first time, I was prepared to accept that maybe I’d played a part and it was worth trying to put things right. But for him to do it again just four weeks later, when he’s supposed to be trying to save his marriage? I think that tells me everything I need to know about how much I mean to him, don’t you?’
‘Mm. Wait until your father hears how much he got for the necklace and watch. If you hadn’t already left, I think he would have driven over to the West Country and dragged you away! If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you could have done any more than you did. I’m proud of you for trying to make it work, and I’m sorry that you married such an idiot. Your father and I were never completely convinced by him, you know. I’m afraid your father had a rather nasty nickname for him.’
I’m not surprised. Dad has nicknames for most of the people he doesn’t like. I just never knew James was on that list.
‘Go on.’
‘He calls him “Tim nice but dim”, after the Harry Enfield character.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me that you had reservations?’
‘Because you were in love with him!’ she exclaims. ‘It didn’t matter what we thought, as long as he was making you happy. If we’d said anything, it just would have escalated into a row. Anyway, besides coming across as a bit lacking in oomph, he was nice enough. And, stupidly, we thought he would take good care of you.’
My hackles rise, probably helped by the gin, which is making me feel a little light-headed. ‘Do I need taking care of, then? I seem to remember I was doing a pretty good job of taking care of myself before I got married,’ I reply, more harshly than I intended to.
‘Don’t be so touchy, you know I didn’t mean it like that. Of course you can take care of yourself, but you were also moving a long way from your friends and family to a place where you didn’t know anyone. In that circumstance, anyone who professes to love you would look out for you, wouldn’t they?’
I see her point and adopt a gentler tone. ‘He did, to begin with. He was always trying to get me to hang out with his mother, though, and I just never clicked with her.’
‘I never liked her either,’ Mum replies. ‘She always gave me the impression she was looking down her nose at me.’
‘Yeah, well that’s probably because she was,’ I tell her, and proceed to fill her in on some of Rosalind’s opinions. Now that I’ve left, I don’t feel any need to protect either of them. I’m expecting Mum to share my outrage, but her response surprises me.
‘What a very unhappy woman she must be,’ she muses. ‘She had no right to talk to you like that, and her views are at least a century out of date, but I suspect that she was jealous of you, deep down.’
‘Really? Why?’
Before Mum has a chance to answer, we’re called through for dinner. Our conversation is paused until we’ve been served our starters and Donald and Margot have retreated.
‘You were saying?’ I prompt her.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘About Rosalind being jealous of me?’
‘Oh yes. Sometimes I wonder whether I’m starting to lose my marbles. Think about it. She’s lost her husband and the only other man in her life has left her behind for you. I don’t know, obviously, but I’ve heard that there is a very strong bond between mothers and sons, just as strong as between fathers and daughters. So, at a time when she needs her son for emotional support, she can’t have him because you do. That might make her pretty resentful. Are you popular in the village?’
‘Yes, I think so. People seem to like me, and they’re always very friendly.’
