to take a little time off then. Pity there’s no such thing as
paternity
leave.” And she gave her little tittering laugh.
I stared into my half-empty cup. Then I wiped Hugh’s nose. “Do have some more cake, Mother.”
“No, thank you, dear. I’m glad to hear the practice is thriving. But what about that girl Larine?”
By a superhuman effort I kept astonishment off my face, and resentment. It’s cheating when predictable people say something totally unpredictable.
“Why, she’s all right, I guess.” But my voice was high with surprise. Was it possible that good old Mother had resources of insight, or sheer, blind guts, that in these four years I hadn’t yet recognized?
“I did so feel,” she went on, smoothing a hand over her large bosom in the complacent, preening way she had, “and I still do, that Ross was taking a quite unnecessary risk, hiring a girl with that kind of …
background.
I mean drugs – a police record – in a law office? With all the …
decent
girls looking for work, I really can’t understand it.”
“Yes. Well,” I mumbled.
“After all, Ross is just at the beginning of his career. It’s not as if he could afford to take risks at this point, do you think?”
“Maybe not.”
“But perhaps he hasn’t asked what you think.”
My heart was pushing up into my throat. Did the bloody old trout know about the whole thing after all? If so, why was she sidling around the point like this? And if she didn’t know, what hell-sent hunch had made her start discussing Larine? My palms were damp with sweat and the table seemed to swing loosely under my elbow. But I kept my voice calm and level. Nothing like rage, terror, and hate, aimed like ray-guns in several different directions at once, to produce the old fighting spirit.
“Well, I think Ross felt a bit protective after he got her off that pushing charge. The drug laws are pretty silly, as you know. And the poor kid has a lurid history … did Ross ever tell you the story? Her mum was a lush and her dad a religious nut. Or was it the other way round? Anyhow, one of her uncles when she was twelve – um, I guess you get the picture. So Ross thought it was time somebody gave her a break. And so far she’s done the routine typing and filing at the office quite well, so he’s probably right.”
There was a brief silence. Then she said, “Ross’s father was a
very
difficult man, you know.”
I looked at her. “Was he?”
“Yes. He’d make a decision like that, on impulse, and then, right or wrong, he’d stick to it, stubborn as –” She shook her blue-rinsedhead. “He insisted my mother must come and live with us, when my father … Passed On. Before six months were over, he knew as well as I did that it was a
mistake.
She didn’t mean to interfere, but – well, he died at sixty-one, while she lived to be ninety. You see, he never would admit … never. Yes. A really …
difficult
man.”
I waited, hoping for more, but she only smoothed her bosom again as if to placate it. Then, after a long pause, she muttered, “Better say no more. I tend to say …
the wrong thing
so often.”
For the first time in our acquaintance, I caught sight of a life’s disappointment, frustration, bewilderment, in the pale blue of her foolish eyes. It amazed me to find she knew herself so well. Poor woman. What a fate, to be trapped like that for all those years, between two egos. It was a surprise – almost a shock – to find myself feeling real pity for her; even a flicker of genuine loving-kindness. But what a rathole life is, I thought angrily, if it can actually make you love an ass like Edwina Graham.
But like most moments of its kind, in our house at least, this one was promptly attacked by the forces of chaos. Our Siamese cat, who loved Ross, liked me, and tolerated the kids, had little or no use for the rest of the human race. He now decided that Mother had stayed quite long enough. With a lightning dart, he
paternity
leave.” And she gave her little tittering laugh.
I stared into my half-empty cup. Then I wiped Hugh’s nose. “Do have some more cake, Mother.”
“No, thank you, dear. I’m glad to hear the practice is thriving. But what about that girl Larine?”
By a superhuman effort I kept astonishment off my face, and resentment. It’s cheating when predictable people say something totally unpredictable.
“Why, she’s all right, I guess.” But my voice was high with surprise. Was it possible that good old Mother had resources of insight, or sheer, blind guts, that in these four years I hadn’t yet recognized?
“I did so feel,” she went on, smoothing a hand over her large bosom in the complacent, preening way she had, “and I still do, that Ross was taking a quite unnecessary risk, hiring a girl with that kind of …
background.
I mean drugs – a police record – in a law office? With all the …
decent
girls looking for work, I really can’t understand it.”
“Yes. Well,” I mumbled.
“After all, Ross is just at the beginning of his career. It’s not as if he could afford to take risks at this point, do you think?”
“Maybe not.”
“But perhaps he hasn’t asked what you think.”
My heart was pushing up into my throat. Did the bloody old trout know about the whole thing after all? If so, why was she sidling around the point like this? And if she didn’t know, what hell-sent hunch had made her start discussing Larine? My palms were damp with sweat and the table seemed to swing loosely under my elbow. But I kept my voice calm and level. Nothing like rage, terror, and hate, aimed like ray-guns in several different directions at once, to produce the old fighting spirit.
“Well, I think Ross felt a bit protective after he got her off that pushing charge. The drug laws are pretty silly, as you know. And the poor kid has a lurid history … did Ross ever tell you the story? Her mum was a lush and her dad a religious nut. Or was it the other way round? Anyhow, one of her uncles when she was twelve – um, I guess you get the picture. So Ross thought it was time somebody gave her a break. And so far she’s done the routine typing and filing at the office quite well, so he’s probably right.”
There was a brief silence. Then she said, “Ross’s father was a
very
difficult man, you know.”
I looked at her. “Was he?”
“Yes. He’d make a decision like that, on impulse, and then, right or wrong, he’d stick to it, stubborn as –” She shook her blue-rinsedhead. “He insisted my mother must come and live with us, when my father … Passed On. Before six months were over, he knew as well as I did that it was a
mistake.
She didn’t mean to interfere, but – well, he died at sixty-one, while she lived to be ninety. You see, he never would admit … never. Yes. A really …
difficult
man.”
I waited, hoping for more, but she only smoothed her bosom again as if to placate it. Then, after a long pause, she muttered, “Better say no more. I tend to say …
the wrong thing
so often.”
For the first time in our acquaintance, I caught sight of a life’s disappointment, frustration, bewilderment, in the pale blue of her foolish eyes. It amazed me to find she knew herself so well. Poor woman. What a fate, to be trapped like that for all those years, between two egos. It was a surprise – almost a shock – to find myself feeling real pity for her; even a flicker of genuine loving-kindness. But what a rathole life is, I thought angrily, if it can actually make you love an ass like Edwina Graham.
But like most moments of its kind, in our house at least, this one was promptly attacked by the forces of chaos. Our Siamese cat, who loved Ross, liked me, and tolerated the kids, had little or no use for the rest of the human race. He now decided that Mother had stayed quite long enough. With a lightning dart, he
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